War Of The Wildlands(83)

Reylin could see that the battle was in his favor, so he decided it was time to use his last few runed arrows. Knocking one to his bowstring, he aimed for the center of the army where no maidens had yet invaded. Loosing the arrow, he watched with pride as it struck the ground, sending flames and sparks into the enemy ranks. Men scattered and horses reared in fright, throwing their riders. Nat and Sal followed suit, releasing the last of their runed arrows as well.

Aelryk managed to avoid the flames and keep his balance on his horse. Mi’tal sat on his mount, ever-faithful at his prince’s side.

“Can you see the king?” Aelryk cried.

Mi’tal craned his neck to see over the fighting. As he did so, a sword maiden charged him, swinging her sword wildly. Without a moment to spare, he maneuvered his horse out of the way, sending the maiden crashing into another soldier. He caught a glimpse of a shield wall that still protected the king. “He’s up ahead, my lord,” he called to the prince. “He is still protected.”

The prince’s horse was struck with an arrow, sending the poor creature into a panic. It threw Aelryk violently to the ground as it attempted to outrun the pain. Mi’tal immediately dismounted to help the prince to his feet. Grabbing Aelryk’s hand, he pulled him upright. The men barely had time to draw their weapons before two sword maidens rushed in on their position.

Mi’tal swung his hammer with great force, coming down hard on the maiden’s arm. The bone cracked audibly, and she dropped her sword to the ground. Her fighting spirit was not quelled, however, and she grabbed a dagger from her leather bodice. Once again she advanced on Mi’tal. With another swing of his hammer, he landed a fatal blow to her skull.

Mi’tal searched the crowd to find that the prince had managed to fight off his attacker as well. The mages’ shield was no longer glowing in the distance, and Aelryk was pushing his way through the crowd in an effort to reach his father. Mi’tal saw an opening to the side and took it. If he could reach the king before Aelryk, he might have a chance to end the war. He had no intention of fighting the prince, should he choose to defend his father.

The few mages who were left continued to bombard the trees with energy blasts. None of them had the strength left to produce fire, but they could still dislodge a few elves from the trees. Three of them concentrated their blasts at what they believed to be the most aggressive archers. They were firing more rapidly than the others, and the mages were determined to take them out. With their powers combined, they fired an enormous bolt of lightning at the tree. As it fell, its massive roots were ripped from the earth, and elves came tumbling from the limbs. Reylin was among them, his right leg shattering as he hit the ground.

With every ounce of his strength, Reylin pulled himself back to his feet. The fallen tree would provide some cover, allowing him to continue to fight. His broken leg was bleeding heavily, and he could barely breathe through the pain. As he moved a hand over his chest, he could feel that several ribs had been broken when he came crashing out of the tree. Steadying himself as best he could, he knocked an arrow and searched the crowd for any sign of Domren.





Chapter 49




Managing to avoid the raging battle, Mi’tal moved quickly toward the king. He had been dismounted and was swinging away at a sword maiden. His guards were focusing on the elves as well and would never suspect Mi’tal’s true intent. Tightening his grip on his hammer, he made his way behind the king. His heart raced as he lifted the hammer high into the air, intending to kill with a single blow. For Na’zora, he thought. He was certain the king’s guards would immediately strike him down, but his life was a small price to pay to free his kingdom from tyranny. He hoped that Aelryk would forgive his treason one day and remember him as the friend he had always been.

Out of nowhere, an arrow struck the king through the neck just as Mi’tal’s hammer was about to come crashing down. The king toppled to the ground with the arrow still sticking out of him. Blood gushed from the wound, staining his bright armor a crimson red.

“Save the king!” a guard shouted as soldiers rushed in to lend aid.

Aelryk, who had not managed to make it to the king’s side, looked to the tree line where the arrow had originated. A lone red-haired archer stood, leaning to one side. It was obvious he was wounded, but the prince felt no pity. He plowed through the fighting, knocking soldiers and sword maidens alike out of his path. Reylin looked up as the prince approached, but made no effort to defend himself. He was far too weak from blood loss, and his broken ribs prevented him from taking in a full breath. With a single stroke of his sword, Aelryk slashed Reylin’s chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he fell to his knees, collapsing onto the soft earth.