James West - Shadow and Steel

“And if they do?” Nola asked, the strain beginning to crack some of her fierce confidence.

“We fight free, and then make for the wall,” Ulmek said. He set off, sword in hand, casting about for any sign of ambush.

Adham shot Leitos a sidelong look. “Until our last breath, and our last drop of blood.” Leitos nodded, and his father added, “For the sake of gods good and wise, be careful, my son.” Before Leitos could answer, Adham ran after Ulmek.

Leitos made to follow, but Belina turned him with a touch. “Heed him,” she admonished. Not waiting for his reply she, Nola, and Damoc, raced after Adham and Ulmek.

“If she has anything to do with it,” Daris quipped, “I foresee children in your future.”

Leitos’s face reddened at the thought, and he spun away to chase after the others. Sumahn and Daris, chuckling amongst themselves, took up the rear.

The small company made it all the way to the wall without seeing the sea-wolves, or any lingering Fauthian archers. The ramparts were empty, and the broad gates stood closed and barred. A postern, set in one gate, hung ajar, creaking in the breeze.

“We were to draw our enemies away from the city,” Damoc reminded everyone. “Having failed that, we must attract their attention-”

Sudden shouts cut him off.

Leitos looked back the way they had come, as a Kelren foursome sprinted up the street, sounding the chase with urgent cries. More demon-possessed sea-wolves joined them, spilling from buildings and alleys and cross streets.

“I think that accounts for all of them,” Ulmek said dryly. “Come. We must keep them after us, but we cannot allow them to get too close.”

They squeezed one at a time through the postern. Daris, the last through, slammed the narrow door and jammed a rock under the bottom edge to wedge it shut. “Won’t hold but a moment,” he laughed crazily. “Run!”

By the time they climbed the mountain and reached the glowing entrance to the Throat of Balaam, even Sumahn and Daris had abandoned their banter in favor of filling their lungs with enough breath to keep the blistering pace through the stifling green forest. Far behind them, the possessed Kelrens crashed heedlessly through the forest, bawling obscenities in a demonic tongue.

Damoc dropped to one knee, and his daughters joined his side. “A moment,” the elder gasped.

Leitos moved between Sumahn and Daris to watch their back trail. The sea-wolves had come closer, but were still lost to sight.

“There is no time for rest,” Ulmek warned, his granite features sheened with sweat. “You must take cover, while my Brothers and I go after Adu’lin. Once the sea-wolves follow, seal us all in.”

Sumahn traded glances with Daris, then peered hard at Ulmek. “Are you mad?”

Ulmek threw up his hands in exasperation. “That we have lived so long has been a gift. We will repay that gift with our lives, here, this day. In doing so, we grant the Yatoans a chance, slim as it may be, to build again the lives stolen from them. For those who come with me into the Faceless One’s lair, this is our last fight.”

“I did not come here to die,” Leitos said. “Nor did I come for Adu’lin, but to defeat the Faceless One.”

Belina gave him a stricken look, but for once did not say a word about him needing to stay alive for the fate of the world.

Ulmek smiled wanly. “Then you are a fool, little brother. A brave fool, but a fool nonetheless.” He took a deep breath and stood tall. “Be that as it may, I am honored to have you at my side. The rest of you must-”

“Where my son goes, I go,” Adham interrupted. The look in his eye brooked no argument.

“Very well,” Ulmek allowed, and glance back to Damoc. “You can seal the Throat, yes?”

Damoc stood with Nola’s help. “I cannot seal the Throat of Balaam with you in it, not unless there is no chance that you will return. Give the rest of us your arrows,” he said, eyes running over Sumahn and Daris, Belina and Nola. “My daughters and I will lead the sea-wolves into the Throat after you, thinning their ranks as we go. Sumahn and Daris will wait until they are sure the last of them have entered, and attack from the rear. Between us, we will crush them.”

“This is a dangerous game you play,” Ulmek said, having to raise his voice over the shouts of the closing Kelrens. “Even the smallest failure will mean the Throat of Balaam remains open, and your people will have gained nothing for your loss.”

“Such is the price we all accepted when we vowed to break the hold of the Fauthians,” Damoc said. “Besides, even if we fail, there are those among my people who will destroy the Throat-without Adu’lin and his forces to hinder them, theirs will be an easier task than ours.”

There was nothing left to say after that.

With a sense of unreality, Leitos handed over his arrows without looking at anyone, especially Belina. In his mind, he was already racing headlong through the blue radiance, on his way to meet the Faceless One. How he would strike down the Bane of Creation from his obsidian throne was a matter for which he had no plan.

“Are you ready?” Ulmek asked intently, and Leitos realized it was not the first time he had spoken.

With that same sense of apartness, he nodded. Ulmek did not bother questioning Adham, who had strode deeper into the brightness of the corridor.

Without a word of farewell or a backward glance, the trio set out at a trot, passing under the grim face carved into the cliff above the archway.

As before, Leitos could not gauge how far they had traveled by any landmark, only by the length of time. Ulmek and Adham stayed at his side, keeping their thoughts trapped behind tight lips.

Sooner than he expected, they came to a part of the corridor that was brighter, blindingly so.

“We are near the veil,” Leitos said, his tongue as dry as a bit of old leather. They gave him curious looks, but kept silent. Leitos wondered if they felt the same oddness of being that he did.

Soon after, they halted before the barrier of solid light. When before he had come to the veil, it had looked a curtain of made from frosty mist. Now it roiled like blue-white vapor, as if it possessed a mind, and was aware of those who had come to destroy its maker.

“We must pass through,” Leitos said, suddenly uneasy. Beyond this point, a tyrannical entity sat upon a ebon throne, the Faceless One, who wielded the powers of fallen gods, and who had ruled the world with iron control for near on two hundred years. Who am I to face such power?

Instead of finding an answer for that question, Leitos’s mind went blank, and his feet carried him through the veil.

They came in a braying rush, the corridor wide enough for four men to run abreast.

Belina took an involuntary step backward, caught herself, and drew the fletching of an arrow to her cheek. The bowstring rolled off her fingertips. The string snapped, speeding the shaft into the teeming horde of once-men. Where that arrow went, or if it struck true, she could not tell. She did not wait to find out, before firing another arrow, and another.

To either side, her father and sister mirrored her actions. Arrow after arrow flashed into their foes. A Kelren stumbled and went down. Those at his back trampled him without pause.

More arrows flew. More sea-wolves fell. But as a whole, the attackers closed swiftly. After another volley brought down two more Kelrens, Damoc raised his voice above that of the bellowing slavers. “Fall back!”

They wheeled and ran deeper into the harsh blue light of the Throat of Balaam.

After a hundred paces, Damoc ordered a halt, and he and his daughters whirled. The Kelrens had narrowed the distance. More arrows thinned their numbers, but not enough. There was no telling if Sumahn and Daris were faring any better behind the sea-wolves.