Sacrifice (Book 4) by Brian Fuller Page A

her, the Basher made no move as the sword edge drove into its neck, blood spurting onto her dress as she retreated a step in preparation for its retaliation.
    It reeled and turned, horrible line of gray eyes fixing on her from the depths of its helmet. The Chalaine brought her sword up instinctively. Dason still hadn’t finished his opponent, and three more Bashers that had broken through the front line now marched toward their position. The wounded Basher charged unsteadily, its hammer swinging wide. The Chalaine struck quickly, chopping into the neck from the opposite side and severing the head. The Basher fell hard at her feet. At that moment, an arrow took Dason’s opponent down, and with a yell Gerand, Volney, Maewen, and two Tolnorian soldiers broke into the fray and dispatched the remaining Bashers quickly. Blood covered everyone.
    “Volney and I will stay with the Chalaine, now,” Gerand said, eyes hard. “You four return to patrolling the flank.”
    “I’ll stay, too,” Maewen said. “We may need to flee into the wood if the tide doesn’t turn soon.”
    The Chalaine ran to Kimdan. Gerand, noticing his sword mate, joined her. Kimdan barely breathed, eyes vacant and blood running from his mouth and nose. With every ounce of will and desire she had, she tried to heal him, but as with Volney, nothing would come. Her gift had truly gone. In despair she watched as Kimdan exhaled for the last time, face slackening. Shaking, she stood and went into the lean-to he had built for her. The sudden energy that had come upon her was gone, and she curled up on the ground and wept for the blood spilled for one as useless as she.
    The sun dropped fully as her Protectors formed a solid perimeter around her, the darkness becoming ever more impenetrable. A change in the thumping brought them all on alert, but gradually the sounds of fighting ceased, replaced with the moans and cries of the injured and dying.
    “I’m going to scout to make sure they haven’t secreted any force inside the wood that could come upon us,” Maewen said.
    “How can you see anything?” Dason asked.
    “Eleven eyes aren’t defeated by the dark, and the Uyumaak aren’t as blind as you are, either. Stay close to the Chalaine. And start no fire! If I cannot return, find Falael and do as he says.”
    “We need to bury Kimdan,” Volney said sadly. “He deserves a better resting place than this cursed wood.”
    “We need sharp swords and eyes right now,” Gerand returned. “Let’s pull him back a space and arrange his body with what dignity we can. Dason, stay with the Chalaine.”
    “As you wish, little brother,” Dason said with a firm tone of dominance. Once Gerand had left, he turned to the Chalaine. “I think someone is getting a little carried away with showing off for my father. I think he’s always resented that I am the elder son. Curse this miserable darkness. At least the Uyumaak can have cook fires.”
    The Chalaine, tears falling silently now, said nothing. The movement around the forest was slow. Men flung curses into the night at scrapes and trips that could hardly be avoided. But stumbling about was better than light that would provide targets for the Uyumaak Archers. The moons again shone brightly on the plain, though stray clouds would drift overhead and shroud patches of the ocean of grass. The Chalaine drifted in and out of consciousness, for how long, she didn’t know, but when she woke, everything was unnaturally still.
    “What is it?” she asked weakly.
    “The drums have stopped, Milady,” Gerand said. “The Uyumaak have gone completely silent. I can’t imagine what this portends. Be at the ready. We may have to move.”
    “Fall back! Run!” came the cry from the front line. As dissolute as she was, fear struck her heart as she realized that Ethris had raised the call. The Chalaine bolted upright as a curtain of fire rose on the plain, the light sending shadows wavering through the forest. At first she thought