Dark Illumination

Chapter Ten

What should have been three days hard riding in armor where no one got off their saddles actually stretched into a solid week. Even the healthiest men found a brisk pace punishing after a day. And no matter how tough his men pretended to be, Dillan refused to push the limits of the injured. The jostle of being on a horse wasn’t the friend of cracked ribs and bruised limbs.

Bandages were checked often. Sutures redressed. Salve applied to shallow cuts. They had to keep moving, sure. But that didn’t mean they had to punish themselves for Dillan’s mistakes. He had to live with the consequences of his hesitations. He would rather die than drag down anyone else with him for having made poor decisions. Were he a better man, he would have traveled to the Onyx Palace the moment word reached him of the High King’s passing.

So despite their insistence that they could keep going, he argued that he hadn’t saved them from a minion attack just to have them keel over once they got to the border. He even refused to listen to Kyle. His cousin’s persuasive powers wouldn’t sway him. They still made good time even if he set a careful pace.

Setting up camp was no longer an option if they wanted to make it into Teare in the least amount of time possible. Although he did insist on rest every four hours. So when they finally reach the crystal bridge with its polished pillars in the shape of gryphons, Dillan couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The structure connected both their kingdoms. Beyond it lay his new life, one he would gladly accept if it meant returning peace to their lands.

“Stop beating yourself up,” Kyle said from his side as if reading his mind.

“Who says I’m beating myself up?” Dillan asked back, resettling onto Ambrose’s saddle. His backside will be bruised for a month. He doubted if he would be able to sit properly without a cushion beneath him during all the ceremonies and rituals needed to complete the union. He sent a silent prayer to The Light for strength and fortitude.

“That crease on your brow that hasn’t let up since we left the Gilt Wood.”

He brought a finger to the valley created by his eyebrows coming together and drew soothing circles. “How are the men?”

Kyle shifted in his saddle to look back at their men. “Dead on their saddles but hanging in there.”

“Don’t joke.” Dillan looked over his shoulder as well. Battle-hardened men could barely sit upright on their mounts. He bit down on the inside of his cheek. He had pushed them too hard.

“They are good men. Don’t belittle their strength by coddling them.”

He aimed a scowl at his cousin. “Don’t think that I wouldn’t run you through just because we’re family.”

The Knight of Morningstar merely grinned at the threat. “I’d like to see you try.”

Breathing through his nose in an attempt not to make good on his promise, he scanned the velvety night sky. The moon shone bright above them, providing much needed illumination during their journey. He had refused torches as to not attract unwanted attention. He doubted any more minions would be in the area, but he’d also been wrong in assuming there wouldn’t be any minions so deep into Lumeria.

“Break’s over,” he said.

Kyle whistled and raised his hand, giving the signal to advance.

Dillan led the way. The hooves of his Barbaro Colt clomped nosily over the polished crystal bridge. So much for keeping a low profile. He had a sinking suspicion what they used to believe no longer applied. That their kingdoms remained safe. That the wards were enough. What happened at the Gilt Wood may happen again anytime, anywhere. His stomach curdled at the thought. Something must be done.

“Holy Mother of The Light,” Kyle breathed they reached the top of the hill they climbed after crossing the bridge.

Pulled away from troubling thoughts, Dillan focused his gaze on what caused his riding companion to curse. His blood ran cold at the sight.

“There must be…” his cousin’s words trailed off.

“At least a hundred of them,” he finished for him. The muscle along his jaw ticked from clenching his teeth too hard. Behind him more curses filled the air. The others have seen what Dillan wished he could shield them from.

In the distance, right at the band of land considered a neutral zone between kingdoms gathered the largest group of fully formed minions he had ever seen. Ogres of different shapes, sizes, and color—all deadly. Ready to kill anything that came close. He couldn’t fathom how this was possible.

What was even more confusing was their stillness. As if the horde was waiting for something. From his years hunting minions, their goal had been clear: breach the border and attack. So having them just stand there in a large group wasn’t in their nature. At least so he thought. But considering the attack at the Gilt Wood? He no longer knew if what he thought was correct.

One thing was abundantly clear.

“There’s no getting around that,” he said. The horde blocked the fastest way into Teare. Going around would waste valuable time they had very little off because of Dillan’s insistence of staying at base camp longer.

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how they got here in the first place,” Kyle said, almost with a reverent awe in his tone. “Have you seen anything like it?”

The grunts of disbelief confirmed Dillan’s suspicions. This gathering was highly unusual for a horde of minions. He wondered if Garret had any answers for this occurrence, being one of the oldest Knights in his Legion. But the great berserker wasn’t with them, no matter how much he wished it were different.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” said one of the men who had his arm in a sling from having his shoulder dislocated. “We fight.”

Murmurs of agreement followed.

“No,” Dillan said, shaking his head.

“And how do you suppose we’ll make it to the Onyx Palace?” Kyle pointed at the minions. “It’s not like they will let us pass if we ask them nicely.”

“None of you are in any shape to fight a hundred strong,” he insisted.

“Your Highness, we’re ready to die if it means you’ll make it to your princess,” declared a soldier with his head wrapped in white gauze from a rather nasty cut Dillan himself stitched up.

“You must complete the union,” another added. This was met by more murmurs of agreement.

Dillan’s throat closed from the unfailing loyalty and bravery his men showed. But he had already put all their lives in danger. He wouldn’t willingly risk losing more men. Not this night. He slanted a glance to Kyle.

“Send a hawk to Sebastian calling for reinforcements,” he said, stone-faced.

“So we fight.” The statement was a confirmation.

He shook his head at the Knight. “You and the men will stay here.”

Kyle’s eyes bulged then narrowed when he realized what Dillan was telling him. “You can’t fight them alone. Are you insane? You’re the package.”

“Nice to know I’m an object that needs to be delivered.” He couldn’t stop the smirk from stretching across his lips.

“Your Highness,” Kyle barked. “I can’t let you do this.”

“There’s only one way we’re getting rid of that many minion.” He pointed at the horde.

“Yes, but it also means you will be incapacitated for no one knows how long.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Don’t be foolish, Dillan.”

The begging in Kyle’s eyes wasn’t enough to dissuade him from his decision. The last time he had used Light Detonation he had been bedridden for a week. It channeled more power than his body could contain. Pure light was potent. It was the flames that coated Lightseeker’s blade when he fought. The technique called for him to use his body as a conduit for The Light while his sword was the anchor that dispersed the energy into one concentrated explosion. He had taken out fifty minions. Tonight called for the use of twice the amount.

Nothing was a sure thing in this world they lived in. But he had trained hard. Had prepared himself for this sort of event. Why would The Light grant him this ability if not to use it when they needed it the most? And considering their current situation? They needed it.

“Send a hawk to Sebastian for reinforcements,” he repeated. When Kyle opened his mouth to argue, he added, “That is an order, Knight.”

Anger blazed in his cousin’s storm cloud irises. Dillan had never pulled rank before. He never needed to until now. If they all made it out of this alive, Kyle was welcome to hate him for however long it took.

“I have no intention of dying this day,” he said loud enough for all those with him to hear. “I want all of you to be ready to kill any stragglers that I will miss. Are you ready?”

Knights and soldiers alike drew their swords in silent ascent.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of Kyle’s breastplate and pulled him forward. “I’m leaving you in charge. Take care of my men.”

“Don’t die,” came the hissed reply.

“I always make good on my promises.” He let go and summoned Lightseeker. Then he squeezed his thighs, giving Ambrose leave to move forward. The war horse eagerly complied. At a yard away, he said over his shoulder, “Now send that damn hawk.”

Trusting that Kyle would comply, Dillan closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He reached for The Light inside him. It was a single, pulsing flame that burned bright at his core. He reached out and tapped into the power it provided.

Unlike the time he had summoned the berserker, gathering The Light infused his cells with so much power that a part of his thought he would explode into a million tiny pieces. All his molecules seemed to burn, yet his focus remains true. No pain. Just a sensation of fullness waiting to burst. He likened it to a rubbed bag filling with water until it could hold no more.

When he reached the point where something had to give, he opened his eyes. Ambrose was a few yards away from the minions now and the first group of creatures had spotted him and began snarling his way.

Trusting that his steed would keep going, he unhooked his feet from the stirrups and pulled his legs up until he could push up and stand on the saddle. He spread his arms wide to maintain his balance. To fall now would detonate the power he gathered at the wrong time.

Ambrose charged, neighing as he barreled through the horde. Claws reached for them. Teeth snapped in their direction. Dillan swung his sword to clear the way, not truly engaging. For what he had planned he needed to reach the center of the roiling mass of beast. Howls and growls chased after them.

An orange-skinned ogre, bigger than the rest, blocked their path. Behind it was Dillan’s goal. Unwilling to be stopped, he leapt over the head of the creature. Razor-sharp nails sliced into his skin as he descended. He gritted his teeth through the burning pain, using all his will to contain the energy that had reached peak capacity inside him.

In the distance, a hawk soared above, screaming a hoarse kee-eeeee-arr.

For the split second before he landed, hope filled Dillan’s chest. Help would arrive. The injured wouldn’t have to face the stragglers alone. They would survive this. They had to.

He landed on steady feet, ready to unleash hell.

As the horde converged upon where he stood, he upended Lightseeker and plunged its flaming blade into the ground. He shut his eyes against the mighty flash that blinded all the ogres around him. The earth rippled outward. Then like a geyser, great white flames burst from the ground. They formed pillars of light that burned each and every minion they touched.

Horrible, guttural screams filled the still night air.