But they were almost swallowed up before the main body of the Cenarian line hit the Khalidorans. The shock of it rippled through the entire Khalidoran line, pushing them back a good ten feet.
On their horses, the meisters laid about themselves with fire and lightning, but far behind the Cenarian front lines, archers on horseback were hunting them, riding back and forth, stopping, shooting arrows from short bows and moving on. The shots seemed impossible—a short bow killing from two or three hundred paces? Caedan checked the archers again, but they weren’t Talented, he was sure of it. To Caedan, it was like watching candles being snuffed one at a time as meisters toppled from their saddles.
The lines heaved back and forth and disintegrated into a thousand clumps of individual combat. Horses wheeled and stamped and kicked and bit. Meisters burned holes in men, set fire to others, laid about themselves with cudgels or swords of pure magic, and sometimes fell dead, pierced by arrows.
In five minutes, seventeen of the twenty meisters were riddled with arrows and the Khalidoran line was stretching at the middle. The giant Cenarian who’d led the first charge seemed to be a beacon of hope. Wherever he went, the Cenarians pushed to go there, too. And now, he was pushing to cut all the way through the Khalidoran line.
Caedan muttered an oath. “Where did they come from?” he asked. The magi followed his eyes. Rank upon rank of Khalidoran highlanders were forming up to each side of the battlefield.
“The caves,” Wervel said. “What are they doing?”
The highlanders spread out and jogged toward the flanks and back of the battle. There were at least five hundred of them, but they didn’t charge into the battle. They didn’t seem at all disturbed that they were losing the advantage of surprise. They spread their line thinner and thinner, as if to cup the entire rear of the battle.
“Sir,” Caedan said. “I thought you only tried to surround an enemy if you outnumbered him.”
Lord Lucius looked disturbed. He was looking to the back of the Khalidoran line where the Vürdmeisters were gathered. “What is that chained between the Vürdmeisters?”
“That isn’t a—” one magus said.
“Surely not. They’re just legend and superstition.”
“May the God have mercy,” Wervel said. “It is.”
67
No,” Vi said. “I can’t.”
Kylar turned the face of judgment on her.
“You—you don’t know what he’s like. You’ve never looked into his eyes. When you see yourself in his eyes, you look in the face of your own wretchedness. Please, Kylar.”
Kylar gnashed his teeth. He looked away. It seemed like it took conscious effort, but slowly that terrifying mask melted away and his own face emerged—his eyes still icy cold.
“You know, my master was wrong about you. He was there when Hu Gibbet presented you to the Sa’kagé. He told me how you trashed those other wetboys. He told me that if I didn’t watch out, you’d be the best wetboy of our generation. He called you a prodigy. He said that there wouldn’t be five men in the kingdom who could beat you. But they don’t have to. You’ve beaten yourself. Durzo was wrong. You aren’t even in the same class as me.”
“Fuck you! You don’t know—”
“Vi, this is what matters. If you’re not with me now, it’s all horseshit.”
As his eyes bored into her, she felt herself changing. She was angry at herself, and at him, and at herself again. She couldn’t let Kylar down. She had never let anything be more important than herself. And now, in the blind stupidity of infatuation, it was more important that she have this man’s respect than that she live.
The infuriating thing was that it wasn’t even a contest. And yet her weakness for Kylar was propelling her toward strength against the one she really should fear—Nysos! This was all too confusing.
“Fine!” she practically spat. “Turn your back!”
“Got a dagger?” Kylar asked as he turned.
“Shut up, you smug sonuvabitch.” Oh, brilliant, Vi. You realize you like him, so you insult him—for helping you find your guts. She pulled off the dress and pulled on her wetboy tunic. She was being a real wench. AAAHHH! She’d just had eight emotions in the space of three seconds.
“Fine,” she said. “You can turn back around. I’m sorry for …before. I was hoping to—” What had she been hoping? To impress him? Entice him? To see the heat of desire in those cool eyes? “—to shock you,” she said.
“You, uh, succeeded.”
“I know.” She couldn’t help but smile. “You’re not like any man I’ve ever known, Kylar. You’ve got this, this, innocence about you.”
He scowled.
“When you’ve been where I’ve been, it’s really …cute. I mean, I didn’t know guys could be like you.” Why was she running off at the mouth all of the sudden?
“You barely know me,” Kylar said.
“I …shit, it’s not just like it’s a list of facts that prove you’re different, Kylar. You feel different.” She was flustered. Was he being deliberately dense?
“Ah, fuck it,” she said. “Do you think we could ever work out?”
“What?” Kylar asked. The tone of his voice should have shut her up.
“You know. You and me. Together.”
Incredulity spread across his face, and the expression confirmed every damning thought she’d ever had about herself.
“No,” Kylar said. “No, I don’t think so.”
No, she could tell he meant, you’re damaged goods.
She shut down. “Right,” she said. Once a whore, forever a whore. “Right. Well, we’ve got work to do. I’ve got a plan.”
Kylar looked poised on the verge of saying something. She’d caught him totally off guard. Shit, what did she expect?
Nysos, so he looked at your tits. So he’s nice to you. You’re still the one who killed his best friend, kidnapped his daughter, and split up his family. Shit, Vi, what were you thinking?
“All right,” she said before he could say anything. “If we go in the side here, they’ll know it’s an attack. We have no idea what their strength is or how many of them there are. But if I walk right in to report on your, well, your death, they won’t suspect a thing. If you go in the side door, you can decide when to strike. As soon as I see palies go down—preferably starting with the king—I’ll fight too, all right?”
“Sounds pretty weak,” Kylar said. “But it also sounds better than anything I’ve got. But one thing …” He trailed off.
“What?” She was eager to go now, to stop talking, stop messing up.
“If he kills me, Vi …Get my body out of there. You can’t let them have it.”
“What do you care?”
“Just do it.”
“Why!” Now she was taking her frustration out on him. Beautiful.
“Because I come back. I don’t stay dead.”
“You’re mad.”
He held up a black shiny ball. It melted and wrapped around his hand like a glove. His hand disappeared. A moment later, it was a ball again. “If Ursuul takes this, he takes my powers. All of them.”