From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [121]
Duchess Amal floated up beside Achan. Good day to you, Prince Oren. How would you like to proceed?
What say I start on the far left, you start on the right, and Achan takes the middle? Do not let the green light touch you, Nephew. It can harm your physical body.
How can their magic touch me in the Veil?
Because they wield dark magic, Prince Oren said. Sir Gavin is ready for us. On my command. He floated off the end of the drawbridge and down the left of the enemy line.
Duchess Amal also floated away. Achan let himself drift down over the center of the line of black knights. He sought out Silvo Hamartano’s slicked-back hair but didn’t see it.
The sight of all those black knights and soldiers twisted Achan’s stomach. He recalled Duchess Amal’s words about storming. Combine your push with the element of surprise. Combine your push with the element of—
Now! Prince Oren yelled.
Achan dove toward the nearest black knight, focused on the shields around his mind, and pushed. His hands made contact as he soared past. He twisted around to see the black knight’s physical body crumple to the dirt road. The vague image of the black knight’s mind soared back and vanished through the drawbridge.
Achan glanced down at the end of the line in time to see Prince Oren—without even moving—send the mind from a black knight up into the sky as if tossing a pebble.
Pig snout. Achan had forgotten to throw his man. Should he chase him down and fling him as Prince Oren had done? And how did Prince Oren do such a thing without even making contact? This man was a true Veil warrior.
A green fireball shot past Achan’s shoulder. He glanced down in time to see a black knight staring up at him.
How does he see me?
Move, Your Highness, Duchess Amal yelled. Now!
Achan zipped toward the drawbridge, hoping to pass through it and hide, but the moment he did, he came face to face with his first foe, hovering over the water.
The black knight punched Achan, sending him right back through the drawbridge. He flew backwards, passed through a person’s body, and slowed just above the ground right in front of the physical black knight who could see him.
Râbah yârad! The knight opened his mouth. A green spear shot out like an arrow and grazed Achan’s right ear. Fire blazed on the side of his head, and he cried out.
Your Highness? Prince Oren called. What is happening?
Achan fled. He flew through the stone walls of the garrison house. Light vanished as he entered the musty interior, until another green ball of fire shot over his head. He zipped through the building and out the other side. The green fire burned my ear. Now he is chasing me somehow.
Wake, Your Highness, the duchess said. It is the fastest way to escape. Return in another location and try again.
Achan tensed. Wake? But he had failed to—
Another green ball of fire shot toward his torso. Just before it hit, a shake of his arm brought him back to his body. He opened his eyes to see Shung standing over him. The right side of Achan’s head smarted. Something stank. Bitter, like burned wool.
“Little Cham listens too slow to please Shung. Duchess Amal said wake. Yet Little Cham waits to be killed.”
“Thank you for keeping close watch.” Achan touched his tender ear. His hair felt crusty and short. His fingers came away bloody. He sat up and swung his legs to the ground in one motion. “Is my ear bad?”
Shung grunted. “Part gone. Hair too.”
Achan stared at his bloody fingers. “Gone?”
Shung walked to the end of the wagon and withdrew a length of linen from a basket. “Green fire ate it, no doubt. Let’s wrap head before Little Cham returns to battle.”
“Hurry.” Achan gritted his teeth as Shung worked. His ear throbbed, and pressing it against his head didn’t ease the discomfort. When Shung finished, Achan lay back and returned to the Veil.
He found himself in the spot where Sir Gavin had been. Only Sir Gavin was no longer in the same location.
Achan shot into the sky to get a better view. Black and red capes swirled below in a mêlée. Achan was pleased to see a great deal more red moving