His men, reacting to what he did, followed his lead, falling back to the scorpios to reinforce them. The battle boiled fiercest around the drays. Steadily, the Erastonians pressed on, fighting in small pockets, killing all before them.
Surrounded by one such group, Garrick roared as he chopped down one man after another. Then the black armored wave swept him under, stabbing and hacking. Stefan tried to head toward his friend, but Erastonians blocked the way.
Again, a trumpet blared.
Stefan peered down the pass. Another enemy wave appeared with more armored men. Behind them came cavalry. Among those on horseback were many dressed in black robes.
He was sure they had to be Matii-the ones responsible for the earlier shield.
“Retreat,” yelled. “Cross behind the scorpios.”
A few heard and tried to comply. He continued to fight on stabbing and slashing any enemy within reach as he tried to shepherd his forces across the threshold formed by the scorpio line. Locked in their many battles they couldn’t move fast enough. Desperate he took a quick glance to where he’d hidden the Alzari cohort to their flanks above the pass. For a moment, he considered sending the signal that would have them bring the rocky walls crashing down, but too many of his remaining soldiers would be caught in the avalanche.
A small prickle of hope edged through him as he noticed now how his men rallied, not only around him, but ahead, fighting desperately. A Setian infantry wedge and cavalry formed and managed to hold the Erastonians at bay. The resistance would be short lived. Once those Matii gained a range where they could Forge again, the battle already lost, would become a complete massacre. They would leave none alive.
The earth heaved in a sudden lurch, almost knocking him from his mount. Whinnying, the horse reared up on its hind legs. A rumble and a tearing sound followed.
A chasm opened less than a hundred feet from where he stood fighting off a few white-faced Erastonians. The rift split the pass from one cliff line to the other. Animals, drays, Setian and Erastonians disappeared into the hole. Screams followed their plunge.
Dear Ilumni, what have they done. I didn’t give the signal.
Throes wracked the earth again, but this time the accompanying rumble came from the surrounding slopes several thousand feet ahead. Boulders tumbled, and then the sheer rock faces on each side crumbled. The rubble filled the pass, cutting off Stefan’s sight of the Erastonian army beyond.
Horns started a serenade behind him. A soft patter of rain began as the clouds above finally broke. He recognized the tune. Whirling, he could not believe what he saw as the horns continued to play.
Surrounded by several hundred of his Royal Guard and garbed in golden armor, cape flapping, was King Nerian.
A cheer went up from the remaining soldiers. The Knight Commander’s shoulders slumped even as disbelief, quickly replaced by anger at the sacrifice of his men, swept through him. He turned back to the ragged gash in earth ahead where nothing but silence greeted him. Here and there, his men finished off the few Erastonians left on this side of the barrier of rubble and the chasm.
If they were lucky, eight to ten thousand of his original forty thousand had survived. Today, they were no longer the Unvanquished.
CHAPTER 18
“You sacrificed nearly thirty thousand men,” Stefan said quietly. Rage should have burned inside him, but somehow, it had sputtered out. A hollow formed in the pit of his stomach with the words. “My men. Men who trusted me to bring them home alive. Men I promised peace to, a chance to be with their families. You cost me a friend today.” A growing sense of despair trickled through him. His hands shook.
At the table in the pavilion, not even bothering to look up from the map of Everland, Nerian shrugged. “The Disciplines warned you against making certain promises, did it not, General Dorn?”
Knight Commander Dorn, Stefan itched to say, but instead he bit his tongue and nodded. He’d failed to keep the one promise that meant so much to him and his men. The blame fell on his shoulders for his misplaced honor and arrogance in thinking he knew Nerian better than the man did himself.
“Anyway,” the King continued, “the menders managed to save Garrick. He may yet be able to rejoin us if he recovers fully. It was a necessary sacrifice. The men believe in me now. They trust I will lead them to victory.”
Stefan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pictured the wounds hacked into Garrick’s armor. He no longer recognized his friend when they removed the armor. When the Alzari were attempting to heal him, they said if he managed to live, Garrick would limp for the remainder of his life and have scars across his body and face. “All of those lives wasted for a ploy?” Stefan whispered.
“No, not wasted, used to attain the men’s belief. They know now that they can rely on Matii to help them win battles the same as the Erastonians. They needed to experience the horror of an Erastonian attack and then see it turned back. You have been naA?ve in this, Stefan, surprisingly so.”
Eyes narrowing, Stefan said, “You knew how the Erastonians fought along. Why-”
“Of course I did. They defeated my Scout parties and other incursions.”
“What? But you said no Scouts reported-.”
“None did,” Nerian interrupted.
The King was splitting hairs. “So how did you …”
“I watched when Renaida and Senden suffered defeat months ago.”
Stefan frowned. Then you had them killed before they revealed the Erastonian strategy. You are mad, aren’t you? “Why would you withhold that from me and cost us so many men.”
“They were my men, to be used as I thought best. The same as I used you. Nothing must stand in the way of my triumph.”
Stefan’s hands clenched and unclenched. “Why? Why did you do this? Do their lives, their families, mean nothing to you?”
“Victory is everything, Stefan. I will use what I must, even fighting darkness with darkness if I have to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
A slow smile spread across Nerian’s face. “What pushed you over the edge to fight, to lead these men here, and to decide the Erastonians must be eradicated?”
Stefan tilted his head to one side, thinking for a moment. No. He doesn’t mean … does he? “The shadeling and Erastonian Matus’ attack in Benez.”
“Exactly,” Nerian confirmed.
“She wasn’t an Erastonian, was she?”
“No, of course not.” Nerian chuckled. “She was one of our own Alzari.”
Stefan understood, now. For me to commit, you gave me something I feared more than anything … a threat to my family from the supposed enemy. But that also means … “The shadelings were yours.” He gave an incredulous stare.
“Like I said, sometimes you must fight darkness with darkness.”
“What have you done?” Stefan’s words came out in a hoarse whisper.
“What I needed to ensure the Setian rise above the Tribunal to rule all of Granadia as we should,” Nerian said.
Something else dawned on Stefan. He made an involuntary reach for his sword. Nerian’s smug expression stopped him.
“Do not bother. I’m aware of the sword, but according to Kahar, it bonded to you. I can do nothing but wait to see if you possess the strength it needs. Afterward, you can pass its power onto me once you learn how to do so.”
An onset of weakness almost overcame Stefan. If there was a chair nearby, he would have found a seat. “Power to do what?”
“Defeat the Tribunal. Undo whatever imprisons the shadelings within the Great Divide.”
A gasp escaped Stefan’s lips. “You would release their plague onto the world?”
Nerian smiled crookedly. “With their power and numbers added to mine, none can stop me.”