Ella's eyes widened with fear as she saw enemy swordsmen and axemen closing in on her left, the grey warriors wielding huge two-handed swords, battle-axes, and some even with two smaller axes held in both hands. Around her every rider was becoming embroiled, preventing all further movement, and the whinnies of horses, jangles of armour, and clashes of weapons were deafening.
Nearby, a Hazaran warrior slashed down with his scimitar at a huge man wielding a silver broadsword with both hands. The desert warrior's sabre bounced off the grey warrior's armour, and the Hazaran quickly raised his sword to block his enemy's two-handed stroke. The clang of steel rang through the air and the Hazaran grimaced at the numbing strength of the grey warrior's blow. Then the broadsword came swinging down again, not at the rider, instead at his horse. With a single blow the horse's head came off at the neck, blood spurting in a fountain as the animal collapsed and rolled, trapping its rider underneath. Ella turned her horse in the stricken man's direction to help, but the swordsman in grey thrust down at the Hazaran, opening up his throat.
"Ella, look out!" she heard Shani's scream.
A warrior held Ella's leg by the stirrup as he copied the swordsman's manoeuvre, swinging his axe at Afiri's neck. Ella couldn't believe how utterly fearless these men were; the Petryans had found confronting skilled warriors on horseback terrifying, yet these soldiers simply attacked horses and men alike.
Ella kicked out with her leg and reared Afiri out of the way, one hand clinging to the reins, the other hand reaching for her pocket. She spoke a rapid series of activations, calling forth the blinding light and protective power of her enchantress's dress.
The warrior holding Ella's stirrup looked up and snarled silently, the man's lips curled to bare his teeth. His skin was white as snow, his long hair loose and as grey as the withered-tree tabard he wore on his chest. A chill ran up Ella's spine as she saw that his eyes were entirely white, and the flesh was rotting away from the edges of his eyes, his nostrils, and his mouth.
He was dead.
Ella had heard of revenants, sometimes referred to in the stories as draugar. Now that she was confronting one in the flesh, on the field of battle; she was stricken by terror at the realisation that they weren't just the creations of stories. Revenants existed.
One was trying to kill her.
Ella now realised what she was seeing. A Hazaran sliced at the neck of a warrior, creating a deep gash, yet no blood came out, and the warrior simply kept fighting. One revenant crawled on the ground, an arm and a leg had been removed, yet he kept moving. Underneath their armour Ella could see the eerie blue glow of runes seeping through the cracks.
Raj Hazara's lore relied on illusions to strike terror into their enemies. Ella now wondered whether the tough desert men would be able to keep their own terror at bay, as they fought an enemy that wouldn't be killed, didn't bleed, felt no fear, and fought with incredible savagery and discipline.
Ella's fingers found what she was looking for. She took the wand out of her pocket, hoping it would work against the revenants.
After the liberation of Tlaxor, Ella had realised she needed a weapon to take into battle. She didn't want to ever again be in another situation like she had when Bartolo had rescued her and Shani at the Poltoi Palace.
It had been a long time since enchanters had themselves fought in battle. Unlike animators and elementalists, who were both the rune-makers and the users of their magic, enchanters created a much wider range of items, but typically preferred to stay clear of battle.
Yet there had been a time when enchanters fought; before bladesingers, zenblades and armoursilk. In the time of Maya Pallandor, the greatest enchantress who ever lived and the woman who invented armoursilk, there were objects that were common in those times but had since fallen out of use.
Wands.
The prince wouldn't give Ella any more essence, even after her success at Tlaxor, so she had simply lied, telling Jehral that rather than saying no to her request for more essence, Prince Ilathor had agreed whole-heartedly.
Jehral hadn't been too pleased with Ella when he'd discovered the deception, and the prince had been furious. Ella ignored them both and finished her work.
The wand Ella now held in her hand was as long as her forearm and tipped with a prism of gold-flecked quartz. It was made of dark hazel wood, with three facets rising to the tip, and was strangely warm to the touch. Tiny symbols covered its length, so small that Ella had needed a lens to draw the runes with the finest of scrills.
Ella fought to control the quail in her voice as she began to chant. The revenant thrust its sword up at her head, but she turned and it instead hit her dress with a blow that would have skewered her through. Ella chanted the runes without pausing, still muttering under her breath as she pointed the wand at the soldier's rotting face.