The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 39

"Sam." Lillian shook his shoulder, not bothering to be gentle. Fear coursed through her bloodstream, fire in her veins. "Sam, get up."

Groggily, he jerked awake and blinked at her, a hand in the air, his brows drawing together. "What happened? What is it?"

"The Serpentine." Lillian could hear them now, the shouts and the crack of whips as they approached, twining with the howling wind like ropes. "They're coming."

A minute later, Sam stumbled out of the tent behind her, Crynia and Chad in tow. The stirrings of panic showed on his face as he watched the clouds and what came with them. Sandy hair blew around his head. Chad had gone pale, and his jaw was clenched. Crynia stared out at the oncoming storm like she could take on hell itself and survive.

Lillian hoped she was right.

"Arm yourselves," Nyle said gravely, tossing a sword to Lillian. She caught it by the hilt, swinging it once to test its balance and bulk. The weight in her palm was a steady reassurance. Helplessness wasn't a language she knew well, but the thought of going against armed savages on horseback without a weapon had hot fear singing in her bones. At least now, she could defend herself.

A gasp made her turn. Her heart went into her throat.

The clouds were churning, boiling, taking shape. At least a mile out, they formed a funnel and sank to the ground, curling into a lightning-bound leg the size of a castle. Another settled and shook the sand. Clawed, writhing hands constructed of rain and fog tore at the cloud cover. Lillian trembled as a stormy torso emerged, capped with a head of lighting and thunderheads, bearded and fierce. Eyes as bright as stars peered out into the land as the giant bent its knee and took a step, making the dunes shudder and shift. Lillian almost lost her balance.

Other cloud giants sank to the earth, following the Serpentine with massive strides. Lillian caught flashes of white cloth stained with red light fluttering around a rider when lightning splintered out from a giant's fingers, striking the ground not twenty feet away.

Lillian covered her ears and fought the urge to sink to her knees as a deafening crack of thunder shook the sky. Steel flashed in the riders' hands. Their faces were hidden by white robes that shrouded their bodies. All she could see were their eyes, cold and cruel.

"Form a circle around the camels!" Nyle had to shout to be heard over the wind and the thundering hooves. He was backing towards the camels, sword poised in front of him, his clothing plastered against his body by the wind. "We lose our supplies, we die!"

Lillian turned and sprinted for the camels, stumbling as a giant took another step. She and Sam ended up nearly back-to-back, breathing hard, watching the wave of riders as they swarmed up the last dune with high-pitched whoops and cries. Dawn was forgotten in the twilight of the storm and the rush of battle.

Lillian shifted her feet into stance as the riders converged on them, sweeping around their campsite in a surge of dark horseflesh. With them came the rain, hitting the sand with a hiss. Drops rolled off Lillian's forehead. She swiped at them and fought to see through the water clouding her vision.

Without slowing their mounts, several riders tumbled gracefully to the ground and came up on their feet. In their hands were strange weapons, long poles with curved blades at the ends, wickedly sharp. Pale robes fluttered around them as they stalked forward, closing in, crunching the wet sand beneath their knee-high boots.

One shouted something in a language Lillian didn't understand, brandishing his weapon expertly. Though Lillian couldn't understand the words, the meaning was clear enough.

Surrender or be killed.

The other riders, at least a hundred strong, had cantered to a stop after forming a full ring, holding their mounts steady as they watched. The giants marched on, coming closer all the while.

"If we die today," Nyle said, gritting his teeth and adjusting his grip on his weapon as water plastered his hair to his forehead, "we go down fighting."

And he struck.

Lillian clashed blades with a Serpentine rider a second later as the cloaked man darted toward her. Her sword shaved a stripe off the handle of his weapon. He jumped back, studying her, narrowing his dark eyes. Lillian caught a flash of dark skin as he moved his arms, shifting his weapon.

They stalked around each other as the rider's companions looked on. Lillian didn't dare look at the others to see how they were faring; if she lost focus for even a second, it could mean death.

"Lay down your weapons, and you shall not be harmed," her opponent said, his voice deep and heavy with a strange accent. His use of the common tongue was broken and difficult to understand. As if he thought she hadn't comprehended what he'd said, he rephrased himself, "We will leave you with your lives. Lay down your weapons."

"And what will you take?" Lillian asked cautiously, eyeing the sea of men and horses fidgeting around her.

The man's eyes flicked to the camels. Lillian narrowed her gaze and struck again.

A little improvisation was all she needed to make it a fair fight. The weapon he used doubled as both a dagger and a quarterstaff; she had to defend herself from both ends. It became a deadly dance of strike and parry, feint and block, warrior to warrior.

A cry of pain snapped her from her focus. Her eyes darted to Chad. He was on his knees, clutching a deep, bleeding cut down his arm. Another desert rider had him by the shirt, pointing his blade at Chad's neck, preparing to drive it home.

"Chad!" Lillian whipped around and sprinted at him.

No one was going to die today.

Leveling her sword at the rider holding Chad, she readied herself, angling her body for a powerful blow.

She never made it.

Someone clutched at her sleeve with an iron grip, yanking her back around. White-hot pain fractured through her as the rider drove his blade through her torso.

Someone screamed her name. Nyle. He sounded stricken and desperate, fuzzy through the ringing in her ears. Face contorting, she bent over the blade, coughing out a strangled cry.

Every inch of cold steel slid back through her as the rider withdrew his weapon. Hands trembling at the gaping wound in her stomach, Lillian sank to her knees. Her vision kaleidoscoped. She couldn't think past the pain rippling through every muscle. Every blood vessel. Every cell.

She didn't realize she'd collapsed until Nyle's face appeared above her, frantic, panicked. His hands shook worse than hers as he pressed them to her wound beside her own. Something dark and warm coated her hands. Blood. Her blood.

When she tried to blink, it was slow. Everything was slow. Her heartbeat in her ears, her breaths. All she could hear was her heartbeat. One thump. Then another. A third. Something left a metallic taste on her tongue.

Sam's face swam in her periphery. Then Crynia's. Then Chad's.

Chad. He was alive. He was safe.

A pillar of clouds shaped like muscles, bound in lightning, stepped over them in a massive stride. Lillian focussed on that, fighting for consciousness. Nyle was trying to say something to her. His hands were on her face, his fingers coated in red, smoothing her hair back.

A strangled sob ripped through her as the pain overpowered the adrenaline.

Then everything went black.