Chapter 38
Savangrad
Alianna blinked to try to clear her hazy vision, as the silhouette of a large, stone palace loomed in the distance to the left of them.
She could hear the shouts of men, the rushing of footsteps past her.
One particular voice – she recognised it. It was familiar.
Thallax’s voice, she realised. Thallax was commanding the armies of Western Xanthia, ordering them to push through the grounds of Savangrad, to defend all entry points to the palace. To defend the Well Courtyard.
To defend their Lord.
Alianna rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision.
The rallying cries of Rionan’s army rang out as they stormed through the darkness, towards the distant flashes of red that were appearing amongst the shadows in the distance, between trees.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Alianna stopped trying to count. She couldn’t keep up. When she realised what was happening, she felt the blood drain from her face.
Those were Rannirr’s armies, making the jump, now that they had felt Rionan’s power flowing from Savangrad and knew that he was back here.
How many Xanthians had he just transported here?
Twenty-five thousand. Korva said he commanded twenty-five thousand.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
She looked to her feet, trying to steady her trembling legs as she tried to turn and find Ulreah. He had been right beside her.
The ground on which she stood – on which the warriors ran – was dark, hard soil, with cracks running through it like it had been void of life and water for some time.
No lush green grass, no flowers. As she looked up, she noticed that the silhouette of the trees here looked to be lifeless.
There were no leaves, no foliage. Just spiny, desolate branches.
Suddenly, from the forest, a bolt of red light shot for them, spearing through the night air.
Alianna watched in horror as it sailed towards a group of charging Xanthians, who ran towards what could only mean sudden death, with no hesitation.
No fear. She felt herself going to cry out, to shout for them to stop, to look up, to move out of the way – when the bolt of light, such a deep red that it reminded her of ruby red blood, met an invisible barrier.
There was a loud boom as it hit this shield, which rippled through the air, a yellow pulse that surrounded the oncoming Xanthian host.
She felt her heart flutter when she realised who was protecting his men as they charged, despite knowing they were vastly outnumbered.
Rionan.
“Come on,” came a voice behind her. Somebody grabbed her arm and whirled her around, catching her fist as it instinctively sailed towards the air towards the unseen person. “What are you doing? We need to get to the high ground, now.”
Ulreah stood before her. Lightning crackled through his eyes, and a wind that Alianna could not feel whipped through his hair, like he was being blessed by the god of storms himself.
Alianna nodded, casting a final look back at the soldiers, wishing she had spent more time getting to know them. Who they were, what their stories were. These men, so willing to run to their deaths, to defend their land and their Lord.
Further bolts of light cut through the air, slamming against Rionan’s barrier. Huge blasts of red, purple, and blue. She noticed the faintest crack splinter its way through his shield. That is when she remembered this crucial detail.
Rannirr had the power of two Lords of Xanthia, because he had already killed one of them and taken over his power.
Rionan only had the power of one.
She could not watch. She could not see what happened. They were trusting her – all of them – to move.
Rionan’s forces started shooting their own magic through the air at the oncoming enemy war band, and the sound of feet hitting the ground as each army ran towards one another filled her ears.
The rallying cries of warriors, of generals, all blending into a horrific crescendo.
Alianna remembered exactly what was supposed to be happening.
A distraction, while she got into Savangrad, and got close enough to the Well to throw the stone in.
She grabbed Ulreah’s hand, and they ran for the palace that awaited them.
Storm clouds whirled overhead, swirling above the palace as they drew near.
In any other circumstance, Alianna would have baulked from this and wanted to be nowhere near those clouds when they opened up on the world below them.
But she knew that this was of Ulreah’s doing, and that he was a mighty warrior, capable of striking down such intense lightning bolts that he could wipe out vast amounts of enemies in a single blow. She just needed to stay with him.
They got to an entry door, and Ulreah slammed his shoulder into it, hissing when it didn’t budge. He motioned to her, his motions not frantic, but urgent. “You,” he said. “Open the door.”
“What?” she asked, and he grabbed her hand, pressing her palm flat to it.
“You are soul-bonded to the Lord of the West. This is his ancestral home. It will open for you.”
She nodded, willing whatever part of Rionan lived inside of her to come forth now and allow her entry to Savangrad. Alianna had no idea how this magic worked. But she focused on the feeling in her chest, which was currently a mix of concern, of steely focus – but mostly, of hot, fiery rage.
Alianna felt the door warm beneath her hand, and she pushed it.
The door swung open for her, revealing a long entryway.
The floor was made of polished granite. Grey pillars decorated with leaves and whirls of stone beckoned them forward down the path.
The walls were adorned with paintings; some portraits, some landscapes, that Alianna did not have time to inspect now.
She took off into a run with Ulreah, following him to the second level. There were so many stairs to run up that Alianna felt herself struggling for breath, but she had to keep running.
The leather bag at her side bounced and heaved with each step. She pulled it tight towards her, wrapping an arm around the stone to ensure it would not come loose from the bag and fall out.
After making their way through five other floors, with Ali barely having any time to stop and take in the décor in the gloomy night, Ulreah pushed a final door. It did not budge.
“Open it!” He shouted to her, and for a moment, Alianna thought she saw electricity skittering along his skin.
She wondered if he was holding back with his lightning strikes this whole time, the force of the impending overhead explosions pushing against his internal restraints, to the point where the awaiting storm danced across his skin.
Alianna opened the door, as she did the first. When it swung open, they were hit with cool night air and met with flashes across the night sky.
Amongst the red, the purple, the blue, she picked out several bolts of yellow energy meeting with groups of Eastern Warriors. The energy seemed to burn through them, encasing their bodies in a golden-yellow light that burned brighter and brighter, until the warriors collapsed within.
Rionan. That was Rionan’s power that she recognised.
Ulreah raced ahead of her, moving toward one of the walls of the rampart that they now stood on, scanning the battlefield below. As he looked down, lightning began to crack in the clouds overhead, illuminating the sky around them for heartbeats at a time.
That is when Alianna saw them, moving on the distant horizon.
The Amassa.
Flying in from the direction that she knew would be the mountains, the Amassa were coming. She did not know if they were coming to aid their cause or push against it.
“Ulreah!” she shouted, “Above!”
Ulreah looked into the distance, acknowledging the Amassa with a nod. They were not beneath his storm clouds, yet. Not in the firing line. Ulreah raised his hands slowly, his hair standing on end as he did so, and he flicked his wrists down with an effortless grace.
There was a huge, world-cleaving crack, and lightning shot from the sky, forking down towards the Xanthians below. It hit the ground beneath them with an incredible boom. She knew that whoever was beneath that lightning strike would have been blasted to smithereens.
Again. Ulreah sent another bolt of lightning shooting down from the sky, slightly further away this time, the same world-shattering crack clanging through the night around them as the ground beneath it burst open with the force of the blow.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Ulreah seemed to be moving his strikes, slowly, in some sort of line.
Alianna realised what he was doing. He was clearing a path through the enemies for the Western forces to push through.
“Ali, you need to keep moving. I’ll be right behind you!” he cried through the wind that whipped over his shoulder. He pushed down another lightning strike before pausing, looking up overhead.
Alianna began running along the rampart ahead of them, following its curve.
The Amassa soared overhead, swooping down from the skies above them.
They were enormous beasts, with bodies of large, clawed lizards.
Forked tongues shot out beneath their razor-sharp teeth, and their huge, colourful, feathered wings boomed through the air as they flew back up into the sky.
They were picking up Xanthians, she realised, watching the bodies writhing in their talons.
Some Xanthians managed to get their hands free and shot bolts of power up at the Amassa.
Some hit their targets, and the large creatures fell from the air, their bodies limp.
Seeing this, other Amassa began to whirl through their air, to somersault, to throw the Xanthians they carried up, before catching them again and flying to greater height…
…and letting go.
The Xanthians careened towards the earth. Alianna couldn’t hear their sickening thuds as they hit the floor, but as she peered over the rampart wall at their lifeless bodies, she could see that they were not getting up.