Chapter Eight
Pel
Tor swore. It didn’t look like he was going to get his wish that the guards were found before an attack began.
When they were all clustered together, Tor said, “Stay close. We don’t know what we’re going to find. Pel, your quiver.”
Confused, Pel nevertheless held out his quiver, and a moment later, all his arrows glowed with Tor’s magic. He felt a brief pang of affection for the archery tournament, even with its huge misunderstanding. He’d definitely rather be back there than here.
But he readied his bow anyway, and they headed onward cautiously.
The path twisted several times… and then spilled them out into an open area, the widest they’d seen since they’d started climbing the treacherous mountain path.
Pel had a vague memory that there was a clearing where traders from Filon and Tond met so that neither group had to go all the way through the mountains. Was this that place?
The mountain continued to loom on their right-hand side, and Pel assumed there was a sheer drop somewhere on their left. In that direction, all he saw was impenetrable darkness, even when the lightning struck.
And between the bulk of the mountain and the drop over the edge was a seething mass of people locked in combat.
It was impossible to tell what was going on, though it looked like the fighting was concentrated further ahead of them, suggesting the exiles had been making for Filon and not Tond.
Pel didn’t know this area terribly well.
He’d only been to Filon a handful of times, and his family had traveled either via the Great River or the Great Road that went through Bessar before crossing into Filon.
Pel could see now why no one had suggested the mountain pass.
The proximity must have made it worthwhile for those who lived here in the southwest of Tond, but Pel couldn’t really fathom it right now.
Rain was sheeting down and obscuring all the details of the scene.
The boom of thunder sounded as though it was right over their head before the lightning crackled, practically blinding them and casting everything in stark relief for a second before it went dark again.
Ahead of them, there was the occasional glow of magic that showed that an Illustrious had Mantled a weapon or shield.
Pel knocked an arrow, his heart sinking.
He was sure they were still in Tond, since the mountain still rose to the right of them, which meant the guards were within their right to fight the exiles here.
Pel was certain his father had ordered Sir Cloril to pursue them wherever they were—but that didn’t matter if they’d been found here. Goddess help them.
Staring into the chaos, he felt like he could barely comprehend it.
The lightning was disorienting, the thunder astonishingly loud, and the violence and sudden movements of the fighters made them even harder to track.
But slowly, he acknowledged that the sheer mass of humanity in front of him meant this was a huge force.
It had to be hundreds, perhaps even nearing a thousand people, and it was impossible to tell from this vantage point if one side was winning. There was shouting, screams, and an inordinate amount of mud and rain that obscured everything.
Why were so many exiles here? Were they planning to invade Filon?
As far as Pel knew, there hadn’t been any hint of trouble with the exiles in Filon in several years—probably, he realized suddenly, since Tor had led the High King’s guards to stop them and had then erroneously ordered a dozen of those guards over the mountain after the exiles.
So if they were heading to Filon now, why foment such upset in Tond with their savage attack? Had they thought they could get away with it because they were leaving? If so, they’d made a possibly fatal error.
The thunder and lightning were happening almost simultaneously now, telling Pel that the storm was right overheard. The dazzling light followed by the plunge into darkness was lending everything an unreal, nightmarish quality.
There was no chance that Tor could stop the fighting, but now that they were here, there was no way they could just stand by and watch Tondians die, either.
Pel could see the same bleak realization on Tor’s face. “I can’t separate them. I can barely tell them apart.” He swore. “Goddess help us.”
Pel couldn’t even stay back and shoot people because it was too hard to see what he was doing. He really didn’t want to crown this disaster by shooting his own people. Many of them were wearing helmets, but he couldn’t be sure that was only the Tondian guards. He unsheathed his sword instead.
“Your Highness,” Beluna protested. “I feel it’s my duty to point out that if you and Prince Pelun die here, there’s every chance this really will start a war.”
Pel and Tor exchanged glances. She was likely right. But these were his people. He might not agree with what they were doing, but most of them were following orders in good faith.
Tor nodded. “The alternative is worse. Stay close. Try not to die?”
She swore and tightened her grip on her own sword, Cavun nodded firmly, and they moved forward as one and joined the chaos.
Getting closer didn’t make it any easier to figure out what was going on. There were a lot of wild swings, and Pel parried anything that came at him, genuinely not sure if it was friend or foe. It looked a bit like that’s what everyone was doing, to be honest.
Something slammed into the back of Pel’s leg, and he went down, twisting to see that someone had been sent sprawling, and their attacker was even now swinging at Pel.
He tried to get his sword up in time—and something large and glowing practically exploded in front of him, sending his attacker flying.
Tor was suddenly there, offering Pel a hand. He grinned fiercely.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Pel could only smile back at the man. And then their attention snapped away from one another as they fended off the next attack.
Was there even someone who could call a retreat at this point? Pel couldn’t imagine anyone hearing anything in this. Did they just keep fighting until everyone was dead?
Another bright fork of lightning temporarily blinded them all, slashing out of the sky, but this time, it hit the mountain with a tremendous “boom,” making everything shake.
There were even more screams. Pel nearly lost his footing, and several people around him went down. The rumbling thunder seemed to go on and on… and then with a deafening crash, a huge boulder slammed into the middle of the battlefield.
And then another. And another.
Goddess help them.
It was a rockslide.
A rock came sailing out of the darkness and thudded into the ground near Pel’s feet. The ominous rumbling and crashing sounds grew louder and louder, more rocks thundering by, smashing into people, and—
The world lit up as though it was suddenly midday. Pel blinked, stunned. There was an instant where it felt like everything had gone eerily silent and calm—probably because everyone had stopped fighting. They were all staring upward in amazement. Because the sun hadn’t burst upon them.
It was Tor.
He’d thrown up a huge shield that stretched above them all, translucent and glowing with magic.
Even as Pel watched, something massive crashed into the shield, making many people scream again.
The shield held, and the boulder continued to crash down the mountain.
But there was another rock and then another, all sorts of debris battering against the shield.
They were clearly right in the path of the rockslide.
Everyone had stopped fighting because they were stunned, but if they started again, if they attacked one another while trapped under this shield together—
There was another scream, louder than the falling rocks or the thunder or the milling people. It was loud and high and piercing, and Pel froze, because that sounded like—
It sounded like a child.
“Where are they?” Tor demanded, whirling on the mass of stunned people. “Which direction? Tell me now!”
There was stunned silence for a moment, and then one of the soaked, bedraggled exiles—they weren’t wearing the castle leathers, they had to be an exile—spoke. He was still breathing hard, and he looked haunted.
“It’s children. Our elderly and injured. Those who can’t fight.”
Tor didn’t look away from him. “I will protect them with my life. I need to know where to put my shield. I can’t see them.”
The man stared at him for a long, taut moment, and then he said, “The south end of the clearing. A little closer to the pass.”
“How many? Give me an idea of size.”
He hesitated, but the piercing wail got louder, and he flinched visibly. “A little over fifteen hundred.”
Goddess.
Tor just nodded and closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration on his face.
Was that even possible? Pel thought of those defense lessons with Larexa, how Tor had told her that he could maintain the shield even when he couldn’t see it.
But they hadn’t even tested that out, and that wasn’t the same as erecting a shield over people you couldn’t see, was it? How could someone possibly do that?
The wailing cut off abruptly, and Pel prayed it was because Tor had got the shield up.
The rocks kept coming, bashing into the shield with what had to be tremendous force.
There were still periodic shrieks and yells as it happened, and Pel could see the strain on Tor’s face, his flinches at the blows.
Hit a shield in the same place too many times and it could be overcome. Wasn’t that what Tor had taught them during Larexa’s defense lessons? Pel could only imagine the force these rocks were exerting—and the size of the shields that Tor was powering.
And they were still in trouble if anyone decided to start fighting again. Pel needed to give them something else to do, and he needed to help Tor.