CHAPTER 70 Torj
Torj
‘Soldiers are taught to accept their fate as they would accept the weight of their armour’
– The Warsword’s Way
WREN WAS AIRBORNE, hurtling through the maelstrom of corrupted alchemy and storm magic, the wind whipping around her. With her hair coming unbound in the sudden leap, and her armour gleaming in the flashes of lightning, she looked like one of the Furies incarnate.
Her own power guided her leap into the chaos, and sparks flew as she landed in a crouch, forks of brilliant white crackling all over her body. Elwren Embervale stood, a vision of rage and retribution, a dark promise of justice to come.
Alchemist. Storm wielder. Queen.
She took a step towards the usurper, a tempest gathering at her silent call. She was growing stronger by the second; Torj could feel it through the bond, and in the charged air vibrating around him.
Silas had stolen his strength and power from his own people, but Wren . . . Her power was freely given by the land itself.
This is it, Torj realized. With a trembling hand, he reached for the two vials around his neck. He had already taken Dessa’s iruseed capsules, but now, in this moment, it was time for his final strike.
The Bear Slayer removed the corks from the vials with his teeth and tipped the contents one after the other down his throat.
The bitter taste burned twice as much, but the effect was immediate.
All of his Furies-given strength rushed back to him in a colossal wave, and he raised his hammer, a war cry breaking from his lips as he charged across the wreckage.
He knew he shouldn’t relish the violence, that it was an ugly balm to the wounds within, but his hammer sang as it carved through air and man alike, a melody like no other, accented by the screams that sounded in its wake.
Torj, no!
Wren’s panic was sharp down the bond, but he was resolute. He knew his purpose. It was the same as it had always been. Protect her. Love her. Help her rise to her own potential.
And so, when he reached Silas and swung his hammer, he knew it wouldn’t find its mark. But it would buy her time. Time to take the power her kingdom offered her. Time to gather the strength she needed to bring the usurper bastard to his knees.
Enemy soldiers surrounded Torj before he could hit his mark, and he struck them down, over and over, while Silas watched. Blood sprayed by his hand, flesh and bone caving beneath his iron. For her, he would kill them all. For her he would raze the whole fucking force to the ground.
Dripping with gore, Torj looked up from the sea of bodies at his feet to see Silas holding a vial of shadow alchemy.
Silas looked from the onyx ribbons drifting within the confines of the bottle back to Torj. He flicked his hand in a signal.
A volley of enemy arrows blocked out the sun, and Torj couldn’t stop them.
In the distance, someone screamed as each arrow punctured the flesh of his torso. One. Two. Three. Four.
Dazed, he looked down to see them protruding from his body, hot blood gushing from each wound.
Torj closed his eyes, and knew then what he had been saving himself for. He thought of nothing but Wren as he sent his power down the bond. As his strength left him, his knees weakened, and he fell to them in the mud, using his remaining energy for one last thing.
Silas’s voice was laced with mock apprehension. ‘Do you truly think you’re enough to stop me?’
‘No,’ Torj answered, holding the grip of his hammer upright, as he smiled with bloody teeth. ‘But I’m just the calm before the storm.’
A cry of fury sounded behind him, and a bolt of fiery lightning shot past him, kissing his shoulder as it hurtled towards Silas.