Nyori cried out something, but in his turmoil Marcellus could not hear her words.
The Night Mare screamed her challenge as she reared and snorted flame from her nostrils. The Reaver's ebony blade unsheathed with a sound like iron grazed across a grinding stone. Marcellus faded as the Reaver burst free. His last conscious thought was of his crushing failure.
The Reaver smothered everything else in darkness.
Chapter 58: Rhanu
Rhanu dashed in front of Ayna, wakiza in hand. They fell into a circle with Han and Meshella as the phantom figures swarmed from the mists. They were gaunt and terrible to behold, twisted monstrosities with too many limbs and eyes that glimmered from sunken sockets. They split the air with their terrifying shrieks and fell on the soldiers with the berserk fury of rabid beasts.
His blade passed right through one of the creatures as if its flesh was smoke. It continued forward, passing other panicked soldiers as they vainly tried to combat the figures. Every one of the phantoms appeared to have only one foe in mind, and they closed in on the Reaver with a swell of screaming voices.
The Night Mare answered with a scream of her own. Fire bloomed from the midst of the swarm, painting the phantoms in shades of crimson and orange.
They melted away like fog in the morning sun.
The Reaver's head swiveled as it searched the terrain. The soldiers shakily recovered from their initial shock, but there was nothing left to fight. Alaric and his escorts had vanished. The misty figures had just been a distraction, an illusion created by Alaric to cover his tracks as he fled. Rhanu sheathed his sword with a frustrated grimace.
Then he realized that things were even worse than they seemed.
"Nyori!" Ayna's eyes were wide as she searched the misty surroundings. "They have taken her!"
Rhanu's frantic scan of the field only confirmed Ayna's words. Nyori's horse was nearby, but the Shama herself had vanished. Alaric had gotten what he came for, and escaped without a finger laid on him.
Fregeror slammed a meaty fist into his palm as he paced back and forth with a murderous frown. "Stones and bloody bones! The Aelon did make us all look like freezing fools. We should have taken the king's noble head when we had the chance."
"Marcellus respected the flag of truce," Rhanu said. "How was he to know what would happen?"
"Aye, and now look at what the man did become." Fregeror gestured to the Reaver, who sat atop the Night Mare like an onyx statue. Steam wafted from its helmet in vaporous clouds as it stared into the mists as if tracking the enemy.
"The men will think ill of this," Fregeror continued. "The Shama was seen as a symbol of good fortune to them. And these men came this far to follow the Champion of Kaerleon, not this knight of darkness. Without Marcellus, they are no more than straw men. Lowlander soldiers do love to retreat almost as much as polishing their bloody armor."
"There has to be a way to salvage this." The words were tasteless in Rhanu's mouth. His glance at the nearby captains confirmed Fregeror's assumptions. The men were grizzled veterans, but their eyes were wide with fear. Rhanu could hardly blame them in light of what had just transpired.
"How now?" The roaring shout nearly bowled Rhanu over when a massive Norlander with a battered face leaped from his shaggy, towering steed. "What's this I behold? A troupe of green children shivering when the wind blows? A band of knock-kneed pheasants waiting for their feathers to be plucked?" He folded his massive arms and sneered. "My aged mother looks more a soldier than the lot of you spineless curs."
He seized the nearest captain by the collar, blowing the other man's mustaches back with his deafening yell. "Listen closely, you gutless craven. Do you know why Alaric risked such a move? Because he be fearful. He fears this army. He fears mighty Theron and the fury of Norland. And most of all he fears the Reaver." The Norlander pointed at the ominous figure, which had pulled rein at the very edge of the fog.
"That silver-haired pike fish of an Aelon knows we have the means to destroy him, and in his desperation he did take the Shama to try to dispirit us. Would you turn back and leave her behind?"
The Parandian captain shook his head. "Leave the Shama? Of…of course not, your Majesty. Who of us would turn back now?" The other captains asserted the same, spirit returning to their faces.
"Tell your men those words." The hulking Norlander spread his scowl across the lines of commanders. "Put some spirit in their gutless spines. Marcellus did know the Reaver would lead us into battle. His sacrifice was for us so that we might have a chance against those Wortan-cursed soul-suckers. We came to paint our blades red, and my axe still shines brightly. So into the fog we go. Get your bloody soldiers ready."
The men saluted and jogged over to their companies, shouting orders. The soldiers formed their ranks, once again assuming an orderly fashion.
The Norlander grunted as he turned to Rhanu. "I'd call them a sorry lot of piss-hearted lasses, but that would be an insult to many a lass. I be Theron the Mighty, king of Norland. Marcellus put faith in you for leadership. The army is in your hands."
Rhanu nearly choked. "I've only been in charge of a small band of men. I know nothing of leading armies."
Theron barked a laugh. "Aye. But I have not the stomach to lead lowlanders, and they do not love me. They do not know you, but they did see the respect Marcellus gave you. The voice of a stranger is more respected than that of a foe. They will follow, if only because they have no other freezing choice."
He looked at the Reaver, which sat atop the Night Mare at the edge of the fog line. Horse and Reaver stared into the mists but had not moved to enter. "What do you think it waits for?"
Rhanu followed his gaze. "Us, probably." The Reaver was a faceless, phantom rider the last time Rhanu had seen it. He had been unconscious when Marcellus transformed in the battle with Yanus, so finding out the two were one and the same was a bitter draught to swallow.
Rhanu gave the armored specter a wary glance. Runic symbols engraved the heavy plate, and onyx mail was visible in between the gaps in the armor. Its ragged tabard was black, the raven emblazoned across the chest even darker. The great helm was a monstrous thing, concealing any view of the Reaver's face, and fitted with sweeping horns lacquered in black.
Han joined them as they gazed at the Reaver. "Do you think anything of Marcellus is still in that thing?"
Rhanu shook his head. "I doubt it. But some intelligence directs it. It waits for us to advance, I believe. Somehow it knows our aid is necessary."
"Then we should advance before these frozen cowards lose whatever nerve they do have." Theron turned to look behind them. "The traitor be still with us. Do you want the honor of his head, or should I?"
They approached Dradyn. He still knelt, his stare vacant as tears trickled unheeded. Shiru and Meshella stood on either side of him, their faces grim. Fregeror sat on an old stump a few paces a way, sharpening his axe blade. From the murderous glances he shot at Dradyn, he looked eager to use it.
Rhanu unsheathed his wakiza. "You have much to explain, kemsa. All this time you've known Alaric was using you. How could you betray us?"
Dradyn raised his haunted face. "I…I was forbidden. You don't understand what they can do. No matter how I have longed to resist, it was impossible for me to reveal what I am."
"And what exactly are you? A spy? An assassin?"
Dradyn slumped, withering before their eyes. "I am…a Thrall." His voice broke, but the words spilled out as if eager to leave his mouth. "I became one long ago when I was in the sorest of straits. Discharged from the army, living by my sword. One disaster after another occurred until I was so poor and hungry I took to robbing on the roadside. Even that didn't work out. I was imprisoned for my misdeeds, rotting in a cell when a stranger came to me in the darkness. The offer was more than I could hope for. I accepted without thinking about the why of it."