Kings of Euphoria (Euphoria Duology Book Two) Read online

  "Form up and hold them back," Nadir ordered, reminding Leith of why they were there.

  The Elevated didn't give time for the ranks to close, rushing forward with the speed and force of a ramming log. The cacophony of metal and flesh slamming into each other was loud enough to drown out Leith's heart thumping in his ears.

  Cornelius moved forward like a tidal wave, unstoppable and unconcerned about anyone but who he had his sights on, which looked to be Lysander. Leith moved forward, but again Jonathan was there to hold him back.

  "I must help my brother," Leith insisted, moving the older man's hand from his arm.

  "Risking your own life for his won't do any of us any good. Let your men do what they're supposed to. You lead from here."

  Jonathan didn't wait for an answer. He ordered some of his men forward to protect Lysander. Leith didn't have time to object. The first ranks of the Gaeth troops had pushed through toward them and he was in a fight of his own.

  The woman that headed for him was tall. She had him by at least six inches, with broad shoulders and muscled arms to match. Her hair was a red too bright to be natural, and she had three rings in her ears. As she got closer, Leith noticed a dark burn scar that marred her left cheek.

  She took a leaping step at Leith, forcing him to dig in and block higher than he was comfortable with. Then proving to be agile the moment they separated, the scarred woman twisted, attacking Leith's side. He scrambled to block again, the force of her scythe almost ripping the blades from Leith's hands. He was starting to regret having passed on Lysander's offer to learn how to use a sword. He really could have used some more distance between him, the woman, and her very sharp scythe.

  Leith pushed her back with all he had. He was used to moving fast and agile and she wasn't going to beat him at his own game. Leith pushed harder, his legs burning, trying to find grip in the wet sand. The second he let up, she went on the offensive just as Leith wanted.

  As she had before, the scarred woman reared back for a cross-body swipe down and to the right. Leith was quicker, sidestepping and ducking low, getting under her guard, and letting her over extend herself. Leith rammed his shoulders up into her ribs, lifting her off the ground and slamming her to the sand.

  The scarred woman snapped her knees up and kicked him with both feet. He landed on his backside, kicking clumps of sand up over his chest and into his field of vision. He lost one of the new daggers. He pulled another from his vest before rolling over to avoid a boot to his face. Instead, he caught a weapon handle to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him.

  Leith rolled with the extra push, taking a handful of sand with him and throwing it at the scarred woman's face. He didn't pause to see if it landed. Leith was on his feet and rushing forward. As long as he stayed close, the effectiveness of her weapon was diminished.

  Leading with a dagger flat against his arm, a technique he'd picked up from watching Oleana with her sais, Leith blocked with his right and punched her in the jaw with his left. Pain exploded across his hand, but adrenaline dulled it to a background ache. The scarred woman stepped back, reaching up to protect her face.

  Leith risked losing another blade to get his hands around her scythe and pull it free from her distracted grasp. He tossed the weapon wildly hoping it wouldn't hit anyone he knew.

  The scarred woman's offense to his disarming her was to grab him around the neck, squeezing so hard Leith's vision went spotty and he felt like he was floating. Leith grabbed her wrists and pulled, scraping her nails across his skin, but freeing himself enough to breathe. The woman reacted by leaping to wrap her legs around his waist, arching and twisting her back to throw them both back to the sand.

  Before Leith knew what had happened she had one of his daggers free from his vest. Leith deflected her wild slash with the heel of his hand, taking a nick across his palm for his efforts. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. She tried to punch him in the face, but he dodged.

  Leith twisted them around until she was flat on her belly and he straddled her back. She tried to get her legs under her and buck him off, but Leith got his arm around her neck and squeezed. She resisted with tooth and nail but as moments ticked by, she eventually fell still. Leith gave it another count of ten before he felt comfortable releasing her. Her head lulled to the side in the sand which gave Leith a second to regroup. He'd fared better fighting the yeti so many months before.

  When Leith went to stand, a sharp pain cut through his side, folding him in half as he clutched his middle. He feared the scarred woman had done him in after all, but when his hands came away free of blood and the pain felt like it was both there and not there, he realized the source was outside of himself.

  Looking through the chaos, Leith craned his neck to get a look at Lorn, fearing the boy may have taken a deadly tumble off the cliff. Pain was written in the tightness around the boy's eyes, but his attention was focused not on himself but out toward the beach. Leith followed his sight line, but his vision was obscured by the mass of people colliding in the small space.

  Through the shouting and clashing of metal, Leith spotted Cornelius who had a spear of ice in his hand, ready to hurl it. Leith moved forward to get a view of the ice god's target when he was bumped by a Gaeth man backing away from a Ranger. Leith cracked the man across his head, ignoring the snapping noise that was followed by the man’s sudden drop. The Ranger nodded his thanks, but Leith continued without another thought.

  When he turned back to Cornelius, the spear was gone, and the ice god had gained ground. The pain in Leith's side grew and he still couldn’t spot Lysander. Leith pushed past two other fighting men without bothering to look at who's side either was on.

  The melee parted, and Leith saw Lysander on the ground, knocked from his horse, a frozen spear broken at his side, with shards of it lodged in his dragon scale armor. One Ranger, Leith remembered her name as Arrissa, cradled Lysander's head while three others stood between him and further danger.

  Leith pushed forward and nearly got his head lobbed off by one of the Rangers, his axe swinging wide. "Sorry sire," the Ranger apologized. Leith waved him off.

  "I'm fine," Lysander said. He tried to sit up but Arrissa pushed him back down.

  Leith knelt at his brother's side. "Must get you out of here."

  "Not you too," Lysander complained.

  "Cornelius knocked you down. Want to wait till he moves in for the kill?"

  "I'm not going to let others fight him while I run away." Lysander pushed Arrissa and Leith aside.

  "He's not looking to kill anyone else but us."

  "But he will if they get in his way." Lysander got his feet under him and the pain in his side flared, although Lysander continued as if it weren't there.

  Before Leith could say more, a frozen spear came flying at him. He dove out of the way, but Arrissa wasn't as fortunate. It cut into her shoulder where the two sections of her armor came together. She sank to her knees.

  Lysander turned, rushing to Arrissa's side much as she had for him moments before. "I'm fi...," she started but pain clenched her jaw swallowing her words.

  "You're targets out here," the ax wielding Ranger said, his gray eyes pleading. "Take her and go."

  Lysander visibly balked at being ordered, but his eyes fell on Arrissa's pained faced and he caved. Leith sighed with relief. The further away he was from Cornelius, the longer his life would be. Lysander took the lead while Leith helped Arrissa walk and the talkative Ranger protected their flank.

  Lysander knocked down a few more Gaeth warriors as they made it back to the valley line where Jonathan was keeping things in order. Leith hazarded a glance back to find Cornelius was too busy protecting himself from an onslaught of arrows to come after them. Nadir, on the other hand, was coming up on them fast.

  "She needs the medics," Lysander said as Jonathan and Nadir converged on them from opposite sides.

  "So do you." Nadir slid off his horse, giving his son a thorough look-over as he did. "You
two get on," Nadir said patting his saddle.

  Leith hoisted Arrissa up as gently as possible, although she still grunted with the pain.

  "Father I'm ...," Lysander started.

  "You can rejoin after you've been looked over. Can't fight him handicapped."

  Nadir's Sand Squad surrounded Cornelius, with Mason leading the attack. With his extra-long reach, quick reflexes, and shower of razor-sharp ice daggers Cornelius kept them all at bay. Leith tried to summon enough courage to go back out into the fight, but he found himself lacking.

  "Go," he urged, faking bravery for the sake of his brother. "We'll keep 'em warm for you."

  Leith didn’t have time to watch them leave, the battle surged forward, forcing him to dodge out of the way of a group of retreating soldiers. While most of the attention was focused on Cornelius a slew of Elevated troops had cut down their share of Rangers.

  Jonathan yanked Leith out of the way as a spear sailed past his head. Before he could say thanks, two Elevated men crashed into them. Leith was knocked over. He quickly rolled to keep from getting his face stomped on.

  The Elevated didn’t stick around to fight, they kept running. Leith righted himself quick enough to send a dagger flying, catching one man in the back, but the other got away clean, disappearing back into the chaos.

  “We’re fighting a losing battle here,” Jonathan remarked as he yanked Leith to his feet.

  One quick look and Leith could see that all lines of division were broken. They were losing ground and fast. Because of the close quarters the effectiveness of the archers was diminished significantly.

  “Pull back to the valley and be letting the archers hold ‘em off,” Leith suggested.

  Before Jonathan could make the call a Ranger in Darten blue ran up to him. Leith recognized the young man as one of those responsible for keeping an eye on the border so Failsea troops couldn’t sneak in.

  “Ivar’s here,” the young man wheezed, sweat pouring off him from the mad dash he made through the city.

  The look of panic that washed over Jonathan’s face scared Leith to the core. If the seasoned warrior was worried, then Leith knew they were in bad shape.

  Jonathan recovered quickly. His stoic mask settled back in place. “We have to send somebody.” He glanced up at Lorn and his archers.

  Leith shook his head. “No. Get Nadir and Lysander. They know forest best.”

  “Agreed,” Jonathan said.

  The Darten man ran after Nadir, Jonathan made the call to pull back, and Leith braced himself for a painful fight ahead.

  CHAPTER FOUR: NADIR

  Lysander took Arrissa to the makeshift hospital the locals created out of the Ranger station in Caledonia. The location was perfectly situated at the heart of the city and still close enough to the battle to make it an easy trip for the wounded. The small building had one large main room that served as the main operating theater and three other rooms including a large cell. The bare stone walls were hard and uninviting made all the worse by the stark beds just waiting for the injured. The battle hadn't taken its toll yet, so only a few beds were occupied, but tension made the air thick and stale.

  The doctor said Arrissa would be all right, but would be down for at least a week. Lysander reluctantly submitted to an exam himself. Doc said he should take himself out of the fight, but Lysander didn't have time for that. He needed patched up so he could go after Cornelius. Leith and Lorn couldn't fight the Ice Ultra by themselves.

  Lysander took the stitches without any painkiller, sword still clutched in his hand, waiting for danger to burst in on them. He needed his head clear. He wanted to return to battle as soon as possible.

  Nadir came in with a rattle of armor and sword, startling Lysander and his two bodyguards, Henry and Paul, to their feet. Doctor Fallon didn't even bother looking up. He pushed Lysander back down on the bench to continue wrapping his wound.

  "Are you going to live?" his father asked, his face wrinkled in concern, eyes darting back and forth over his son.

  "Just a nick," Lysander said in a hurry before the doc could say otherwise. Fallon gave him a dark look but said nothing. He was a field medic, used to soldiers fighting through the pain.

  "We have incoming from the border," Nadir explained. "Leith wants us to go keep them at bay."

  Lysander suppressed a groan. They were having a hard-enough time keeping the troops of Gaeth under control. The last thing they needed was new players with fresh legs. He liked even less being forced away from the main conflict and his fellow kings. "Can't wait." Lysander forced a smile hoping his father would believe the lie.

  Nadir sighed, worry etched into the deep lines around his eyes. "I don't like it either, but we can't just ignore them."

  "You're patched as good as you're going to get," Fallon said. "Your armor took a beating so you're going to take mine if you insist on going back out there." He stripped off his chest piece.

  "No. I can't." Lysander objected, reaching for his own on the table beside him.

  "Doctors orders." Fallon shoved the dragon scale vest into Lysander's arms. There was no give in the look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do to protect my king."

  Lysander took it with a resigned nod. He had to loosen the straps to get it to fit right, the rich foods and intense training schedule at Evermore had packed muscle onto his once lean frame. After making sure everything was in place and his wound wasn't too stiff, Lysander slid off the bench and stood at the ready. "Lead the way.'

  Nadir led them back out into the street of Caledonia. It was a prosperous fishing and trading city with wide, paved streets. There were shops as far as the eye could see, signs advertising everything from live bait to fine silks in no particular order. It felt wrong for the place to be so empty and boarded up, with only the wounded making their way in and out.

  Lysander cradled his side as his father offered a hand up onto his horse while Henry and Paul found mounts of their own. Looking at the others gathering around them, Lysander evaluated what abilities he had to work with. Most of the troops following them through the winding roads of the city were Rangers. At least half of them Lysander had worked with, or at least had seen in action before. The others were either foreign Rangers from Arismas and Darten, or Realm guards from Darten.

  Lysander appreciated the added power in his ranks, but he had no idea what capabilities these men had. Despite urgings from Tycho and Daycia to cross-train, Lysander had never found the time to make it work back in Evermore. Now he was facing the toughest battle of his career with no connection to half the men and women tasked with keeping him safe and executing his orders. All because he'd tried to hide from his responsibilities as king, feeling himself unqualified without Oleana's guidance.

  All that talk back at the beach before building the wall was for Jonathan's ears. Lysander feared the seasoned fighter would see right through to his cowardice. So, he overcompensated by assuring them the wall would hold, that he knew what he was doing. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Nadir pulled back on the reins as they left the city behind and entered the pastureland that was between civilization and wild forest. Lysander slid off the back of the horse meeting up with the scout that had been tasked with keeping an eye out on their backsides.

  It was Wade, from good old Fire Squad. His familiar face was a welcomed sight after the sea of unknowns. "Now, how did you get this crap detail?" Lysander asked with a relieved grin, giving him a handshake.

  "Well, sire, I do as the king orders."

  Lysander nodded. "About time you started respecting authority. So, what's the situation?"

  Wade's smile disappeared. "Spotted at least two platoons incoming, Yeti and Failsea warriors."

  Lysander's heart sank. He had maybe thirty soldiers around him with the enemy calling upon at least twice that. And each yeti counted for two men. Even at his most confident, Lysander hated those odds.

  They were lined up on the east side of Caledonia just outside the woods t
hat separated Caledon from Failsea. The Alignment River came out of the Wild Zone to the north and skirted the pastureland just outside of Caledonia's west side. In front of them was a thick line of deciduous trees whose leaves had already started to change colors, peppering the landscape with yellows and reds.

  Lysander understood why Leith would ask him to go. The forest was his playground, but building that wall had taken a lot out of him. The fight afterward taxed his body even more. Lysander didn't think he could summon enough energy to make a flower blossom, much less do any kind of tricks that would keep Ivar's men from slamming into the rear ranks of the allied troops.

  Lysander sighed and rubbed at the scruff on top of his head. "Well we don't have to defeat them, we just have to keep them from slamming into the rear ranks of the main group."

  Nadir snorted. "I love how you think that makes a difference."

  Lysander glanced up at his father. He was more than happy to take the advice of the more experienced man, "Well, what's your idea?"

  Nadir looked out over the forest, his thick brow wrinkled. He sat atop his horse with squared shoulders and a straight back, only the graying hair betrayed his age. "I think an ambush is our only chance. If we keep them disoriented and on the move, they won't have time to worry about joining the forward line," he said.

  Lysander tried to picture it in his head. The dense terrain of the forest would make it hard for any large group to move together. That would give smaller, more agile groups the advantage so they could pick off the enemy one by one using the trees as cover and protection. "Sounds like a plan to me." He turned back to the rest of the troops gathered. He raised his sword to make sure all eyes were on him, but even that small movement sent a sharp pain across his middle. He hoped he kept his face under control and no one noticed. "Hide and ambush," he ordered. "Groups of four. With twenty square foot territories starting three yards in." He pointed toward the tree line.

  "Yes sir," came the shouted response down the line.