Rise of the Vanquished (Tales of the Misplaced Book 6)

Book summary

Nora’s quest to return the Heartpiece of the goddess A’iwanea plunges her into the heart of Félbahlag’s political chaos, while Kartahn Zeg’s army threatens the realm. Mira must aid in the defense of Danu and locate Nora to stop Zeg from resurrecting dead gods and conquering the worlds.

RISE OF THE VANQUISHED is an epic fantasy adventure and the sixth book in the Tales Of The Misplaced series by Adam K. Watts.

Excerpt from Rise of the Vanquished (Tales of the Misplaced Book 6)

The huge Wyl-Dunn camp I’d visited before was gone; there was nothing left but destruction. And the dead. My first instinct was to look for familiar faces among the fallen, not that I had known many of them. There were too many bodies to be able to easily tell who was here, but there weren’t anywhere near enough to account for the entire camp. Somewhere, there were a lot of survivors. I also saw a number of bahrantu, those giant scorpions, or sometimes just pieces of them. I saw a gajhanti corpse not far off; one enormous tusk pointed at the sky.

“This isn’t all of them,” I said. “They must have gone somewhere.”

“And they’d just leave their dead like this?” Luci asked.

“They may not have had a lot of options at the time,” I pointed out. “Do you think you can track any survivors? The ones who were on foot, anyway?” She wouldn’t be able to track those who flew off on gurpahn-back. The griffins.

“I have no idea,” she frowned. “With armies coming in and out, trampling tracks far and wide…” She shrugged.

“I know where they went,” a voice said.

I spun to face the speaker. It was a Wyl-Dunn woman. Her hair was ragged and filthy. There was a bloody gash on her head, and she seemed to be favoring one leg as she stood leaning on a staff that she gripped with both hands. She was familiar.

“Usoa?” I asked.

She gave a nod. “I don’t see the child. Was your mission not successful?”

“We found her,” I said. “She’s safe. What happened here?”

“Kartahn Zeg,” she said simply.

“He attacked you?”

“He sent a message to parley,” she explained. “His army was somehow… cloaked. We couldn’t see them until they attacked. We were overrun almost immediately. Most of the kaganesh escaped to the air. The fallen here bought them time to retreat. The Bahréth were far too vast in numbers to stand and fight them. Our kagana have taken our people to Solaian to support the Ande Dannu against Zeg’s army.”

“What about Jack?” I asked her. “Did they take him with them? And the sword?”

She shook her head and winced at the motion. “Jack and many of our wounded were taken with Képa, our healer, north into the hills. I saw them as they were leaving; Zoriaa and some others were with them.”

Usoa seemed to swoon for a moment and caught her balance. I dismounted quickly and rushed to her side.

“Why didn’t you go with Képa?” I asked as I helped her from her feet. “You need a healer, too!”

“I was buried under a fallen tent,” she said. “When I came to, they were already leaving. Besides, my duty was here.”

“Why? What’s here?”

“I knew you would come back,” she answered. “Kaganum Iratzé assigned your care to me. You would need answers when you returned.”

“But you clearly need medical attention,” I scowled. “You can’t very well give me answers if you die.”

“Then it is fortunate I did not die,” she said, smiling.

Luci was already getting out what first aid supplies we had and we washed and bandaged Usoa’s head wound.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I never managed to learn healing magic.”

She gave another wan smile. “Few have the calling. It would have made my parents happy, but it was not my path.”

“Is something wrong with your leg?”

“A bahrantu sting,” she answered. “I managed to find some of the antidote, but I don’t know if it was enough.”

“We should probably get you to Képa as soon as possible. You need a real healer.”

“I would not object.”

“You can ride with me,” I told her. “I’m sure Anazhari can carry us both easily.”

“You even had to wonder if I could manage a couple snippets like you two?”

It was nice to hear Anazhari joking, but I got the idea she was doing it for Usoa’s benefit. Anazhari knelt and I climbed into the saddle, putting Usoa in front of me sitting sideways to keep from putting too much pressure on her injured leg.

I had long since stopped judging age by height. The Wyl-Dunn were Loiala Fé by another name and their average height was about four and a half feet. As Usoa directed us where to go, I realized she was much younger than I’d originally assumed. She’d always been so serious and formal.

“How old are you?” I asked her.

She stiffened slightly before answering. “I am sixteen as of last month when I was taken into the kaganum’s service,” she said sternly. “I am fully adult.”

“I was only curious,” I assured her. “I’m younger than I look. Not much older than you now. I’m eighteen.”

She gaped at me. “Why do you look so old?”

It was the first thing she’d said to me that didn’t sound formal. Maybe the fact that we were so close in age let her feel like she could be more herself.

“There was a spell,” I explained. “It sped up time. When I dismantled it, it aged my body.”

“Well,” she said after a moment, “I suppose you don’t look that old.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“At least no one questions your ability because of your age,” she said.

I had to laugh at that. “People will always question your ability. If it’s not because of your age they’ll find some other reason.”

“Xantif is also eighteen,” she said. “He’s not too much older than I am.”

“Xantif?”

“He was the one who saw to your Rorujhen when you first arrived at the kaganesh,” she looked at me. “You must remember him. You even talked to him.”

“Right.” I vaguely recalled the conversation.

We were a good hour out from the ruined camp when Luci pulled up.

“We have a problem,” she said. “The footprints of the Wyl-Dunn here are trampled by some others. We’re not the only ones tracking them.”

“Bahréth?” I asked her.

“Looks like it.”

“Can you tell how many?”

She shrugged. “It’s not a huge group. Less than a half dozen, anyway. The tracks are pretty fresh.”

“That’s plenty to be a problem for healers and injured people,” I frowned. “Let’s pick up the pace. Hopefully, they haven’t caught up to them yet.”

“You do realize we’ll probably be outnumbered, right?”

I nodded. “Too bad I don’t have a bow. I trained with one. I’m no expert, but I can definitely hit something as big as a Bahréth.”

“I’ll stick to my Hellcats.” Luci patted one of her pistols.

Right, I thought. Those will definitely come in handy.

“You trained with a bow?” Usoa asked. “You trained to be a hunter?”

“Not a hunter,” I shook my head. “It was part of my martial arts training from the Ulané Jhinura.”

“Martial arts?”

“Yeah. You know… Military. Fighting. I learned how to use a lot of different weapons. Everyone had to have at least basic competence in pretty much everything.”

“My parents didn’t let me train for fighting,” Usoa’s eyes were downcast. “Now that I am an adult, I can choose for myself.” Then she looked at me hopefully, “Maybe you could teach me!”

“Um,” she had caught me by surprise. I’d never thought about teaching. “I guess I can show you some of the forms. But I’m not an instructor. And you need to heal first, anyway.”

We were nearing the top of a small rise and Luci held her hand up for silence.

I let Anazhari slowly advance until I could just see over the top of the rise. About fifty yards from us, four Bahréth were arrayed in a semi-circle facing a rocky overhang near the base of a steep slope. The four Bahréth were just common soldiers, shakahr, rather than the elite Anointed.

Old soot stains on the rock told me that the overhang had seen repeated use as a shelter. A shallow stream flowed on a diagonal across the area in front of the slope and I could see several people in the recessed area. I could tell that the ones standing were the size of Wyl-Dunn.

I eased Usoa to the ground as she slid down Anazhari’s side.

Most Bahréth soldiers carried an oversized falchion-type sword and a war hammer. They could wield the sword in one hand and the hammer in the other. The head of a Bahréth war hammer was roughly two or three times the size of what you’d expect on a normal construction hammer, but instead of a claw on the back for pulling nails, it had a six-inch long spike. It would be a bit heavy for me, being normal, human-sized. The handle was about four feet long and the whole thing could pack an incredible punch in the hands of the huge Bahréth.

The only thing I’d seen that could go one-on-one against a Bahréth, muscle for muscle, was an Ogaré, and they lived on Daoine. The Ogaré were taller, but the Bahréth had tails that were spiked like a stegosaurus.

I’d gotten lucky with Médard when I’d knocked him out. I’d caught him by surprise. Plus, he’d been a mage and not a warrior. The staff he’d carried had a decorative headpiece and was more a symbol of his position; it was not intended to be used for fighting like mine was.

As the Bahréth drew their weapons, I was reminded of that day so long ago, my first day on Daoine, when several Urgaban had me cornered. That’s when I met Neelu. She’d saved me. I remembered how she’d handled it. I glanced at Luci and saw that she held one of her pistols in her hands.

I slid to the ground myself after Usoa. Then I connected to the Ralahin and used it to project my voice.

“What kind of shakahr attacks healers and injured people?”

The four Bahréth paused and looked around. Because of how I’d projected my voice, they couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from. Only my eyes and the top of my head were above the level of the hill, so they couldn’t see me.

“Leave now or the shame of cowardice will stain you for the rest of your miserable lives,” I told them. “Short as that may be.”

“Easy to speak of cowardice from the shadows,” one of them growled.

The first time I’d done this it had almost killed me, but I’d long since mastered the flit. I leaned into the Ralahin, and in an instant, I had traveled the distance and stood with my knife against his belly.

“Is this better?” I asked him.

At first he was stunned that I seemed to appear out of nowhere, but then he looked down at me and felt less threatened.

“Little thing, aren’t you?” he smirked.

I pushed lightly with the knife to get his attention.

“This blade is big enough to gut you right here,” I told him. “Do you want to try me?”

“You made your point, little one.”

“My name is Mira,” I told him. “What’s yours?”

“I am called Radomér.”

One of the other shakahr raised his war hammer and stepped toward me.

“Ah!” I pressed harder with my knife.

“Hold!” Radomér ordered the others. “I can sense you would not hesitate to plunge the blade to the hilt,” he said to me. “Why not just kill me and have done? With your speed, you could probably cut us all down.”