A New Reign

by Bryan Gifford

  Silas instinctively moved into a defensive stance and reached for Sitare. He was suddenly all too aware of the weight missing in his sling. He grasped at the air, stifling a curse.

  Isroc drew his messer sword. “Who are you?”

  The man gave a smirk. “Some call me the White Wolf. Others, Death. To many, I’m the Black Arrow.” He swept an arm forward and bowed. “To you, my friends, I am Ada Arillius, right hand of Lord Iscarius.”

  Silas nearly leapt at the man. The Black Arrow. He didn’t have to find him after all, the man had come to him. Here was his chance to avenge his brother, and he didn’t even have his bloody weapon!

  Isroc’s eyes darkened. “So you’re a spy.”

  Ada laughed. “Such a simple mind you have, Isroc Braygon. I’ve watched the four of Andaurel since their departure from Charun. I’ve watched your every move and learned everything about the six of you. Well, five now.

  “You may have once called me an assassin, but now my skills are put to better use. Lord Iscarius wants your friend. Where can I find Cain Taran?”

  “You’re not getting your sick hands on him!” Isroc spat. “Your life is forfeit, assassin.”

  The four Acedens jumped forward. Ada raised a hand to stop them. He turned to Isroc, his one eye searching. “Is it? You would never have known I were here had I not presented myself to you. Now tell me, where is Taran?”

  “You’re joking, right?” Isroc turned to Silas and laughed. “He has to be joking?” Silas sneered back. This was no time for laughter.

  Ada stroked his graying goatee. “You can tell me, or I will use you as bait. Either way, I don’t have time for this. Tell me where he is.”

  “Iscarius needs Cain?” Silas asked. “Why?”

  “He has something invaluable.”

  “Let me guess. Ceerocai? You’ll have to pry it from his dead hands before he’ll surrender it to any of you.”

  “You must be the smart one,” Ada tapped his skull. “No, that’s not the only thing we require from him. I tire of this. Come with me or die.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Silas answered.

  “Very well, I didn’t want to do this.” He flicked his cloak and let the furs drape loose.

  “I followed your group through Tarsha. I watched you grow and falter. I watched as Malecai joined your ranks and fell beneath the Alar.” He turned that unnerving eye on Isroc. “I watched the light leave your father’s eyes.” He smiled a yellow, toothy smile. “I read your letters that were in his pocket. Touching, I might add.”

  Isroc lurched forward. “You bastard,” he screamed as Silas barely managed to pull him back. “I’ll gut you open. You’ll pay for this!”

  “Yes, there’s the anger I want to see. Just like in your eyes.” He turned to Silas. “I must say, your brother was the largest man I’ve ever killed. It’s a shame I had to waste so many arrows.”

  Silas cursed at the man, hand reaching for Sitare again. Here was his chance for vengeance, and he didn’t even have a bloody weapon. He’d strangle the man then, squeeze until his eyes popped out. He would kill this man.

  Ada rushed the two Warriors, the four Acedens charging after him. Isroc jumped in front of Silas and the three swords rang violently. “Get out of here!” Isroc ordered.

  In response, Silas pulled the spear from the sling on Isroc’s back and hurled it at one of the incoming Acedens. The spear took him through the face and sent him reeling.

  A second soldier rushed toward him with sword raised. Silas ducked and kicked him in the leg. He grabbed the man’s arms and jerked him sideways, yanking his sword free and cutting a third Aceden’s stomach open.

  Silas twisted the man in his arms and grabbed him by the throat, pulling as he pinned a leg against his back. Snap. The man’s neck popped with a twist and the body sagged in Silas’ hands.

  Silas barely jumped back as the fourth Aceden swung at him, but he lost his footing in the mud and fell. The Aceden dove over him and Silas rolled, sword stabbing into the ground inches from his face.

  He rolled the other way as his attacker pulled his sword free. Silas reached for a nearby discarded sword and struck at the man’s greaves, throwing him off balance. He then kicked the Aceden’s legs out and tackled him, tossing them both into the mud. Silas beat back the man’s blocks and drove his sword into the man’s throat. Blood bubbled as the man spasmed and gurgled.

  Silas grimaced and tossed his sword aside in disgust. He climbed over the now still body and retrieved Isroc’s spear from its victim. He charged toward Ada as the two men dueled across the glade.

  Silas thrust the spear at Ada’s back. The assassin spun and knocked the spear tip to the ground. He leapt onto its haft and kicked Silas in the face before ricocheting off and swinging at Isroc.

  Silas wiped his bleeding mouth and leapt back into the fray. The assassin blocked with one sword and lashed out with the other, turning every block and parry into calculated swipes. It proved difficult to defend against and even harder to find an opening. Isroc backed down beneath the flurry of swords and Ada turned, using the reprieve to move out of their pincher. Silas thrust his spear and Ada ducked swinging, but Silas rounded his weapon back and hammered his foe in the chest.

  Ada stumbled back from the blow and Isroc seized the opportunity. He leapt forward and unleashed a fierce barrage of steel over the assassin. Ada barely deflected each attack, every swing forcing him gradually backward.

  Silas struck again and Ada spun out of the way. As the spear thrust at him again, he shot to the side and struck it as it blazed by. The assassin swung, and Silas barely blocked, sword thumping into the spear’s shaft.

  The other sword!

  Silas twisted out of the way, blade meeting his pauldron. The sword ricocheted off and grazed his neck. He knocked away a stab, a swing, another stab, but the close quarters proved difficult for him to maneuver his spear. He lurched away from an attack, but Ada lunged, and a yatagan bit into Silas’ armpit. Blood seeped from beneath his pauldron. He fell back, just barely blocking another swing before his legs gave out and sent him crumpling to the mud.

  Ada’s smile faded as Isroc crashed down on him.

  The two began another maelstrom. Isroc threw blow after blow at the assassin, each strike pounding like a vengeful hammer against his unprepared opponent.

  Ada deflected a strike, ducked under another, and swung. Isroc jumped back, sword hissing across his armor. Isroc deflected the backswing and punched Ada in the face. The assassin stumbled and Isroc kicked, driving a boot into his chest. Ada fell over the side of the hill and rolled to a stop at the base of a tree.

  Isroc yanked a knife from his belt and let it fly. The blade tumbled over itself and planted in the tree trunk where the assassin had been. The man slipped away in a flurry of mud.

  Isroc skidded to a stop, cursing. He made for his foe but paused, and instead turned back to Silas. “Are you alright?”

  Silas rolled to his side and spit blood over the mud. “Never better.” He crawled out of the rain and leaned against the base of a tree. He grimaced at the gash under his arm. He’d had worse, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bloody hurt.

  “An inch over and it would have hit your heart,” Isroc examined.

  “Help me up, mate.” Isroc pulled him to his feet and Silas picked up his spear. Blood oozed between his fingers as he felt at his wound.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Isroc frowned at the gash. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Did you see where he went?”

  Isroc sighed. “He got away.”

  “Not yet.” He glanced at their camp, then made for the trees. Isroc smiled and chased after him.

  The two slid down the hillside and continued through the thick bands of evergreens. They soon spotted their target in the distance through occasional blotches of starlight.

  Ada turned, eyes wide. He turned and raised his recurve, and in a flash, loosed a broadhead. The projectile roared past Silas, its shockwave r
ippling air across his face. The man stumbled but kept running, trailing blood from his arm.

  The assassin slid down a hill and the Warriors dove after him. They skidded to a stop at the bottom where they came to the edge of a clearing. Ada slipped into the hundreds of gray tents just beyond.

  The Warriors dove into the camp, indifferent to the danger that lay in wait. Ada snaked through the maze of tents, screaming to his soldiers. “Get up, get up. Capture these men!” The rain dampened his cries and only a few soldiers around him heard. They drew their weapons and leapt before the intruders.

  Isroc and Silas charged through the soldiers, hacking through the stunned Acedens. Ada sprinted through the camp, shouting to his soldiers and knocking over tents and carts to slow his pursuers.

  The two Warriors slipped through the small groups of attacking men and weaved around falling carts. Ahead, the assassin made for a nearby picket line and cut a horse’s tethers. He swung onto its back, whipped its reins, and bolted out of the camp.

  Silas and Isroc rushed to the picket line and cut lead ropes to scatter the horses. They then jumped onto their mounts’ backs and galloped through the chasing Acedens. They trampled men under hoof and heeled their stolen mounts after their prey.

  Ada turned and nocked another arrow. The projectile smacked against the side of a tree, throwing it off course and sending it whizzing past Silas. Silas shot between trees, broadheads pelting around him. The assassin cursed as he shot the last of his arrows. He drew his yatagans as Isroc reached him, and the two men began another exchange of steel.

  A tree appeared through the blurs and the two men pulled away to avoid collision.

  Silas rode up on Ada’s flank and thrust out his spear. Ada leaned back in the saddle, spear shooting over his face. He knocked the weapon away and threw his swords out to block a blow from both sides. Ada pulled free of their blades and swung, sending both men reeling away.

  The two Warriors pressed tighter around their quarry, hemming him in as they rode straight for a tree. Ada deflected their attacks and kicked his horse into a fierce gallop. He managed to get just ahead of them, riding straight for the pine. The assassin jumped from his saddle and sent his horse galloping past the tree.

  Ada bound off the side of the tree trunk and spun over Silas. Silas barely blocked the incoming sword in time, but the assassin dropped in the saddle behind him. Silas turned but his opponent lashed out, forcing him to roll out of the saddle to avoid the attack. Silas dropped heavily to the mud, the breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled painfully to a stop and watched Ada ride off through rain-blurred eyes.

  Isroc galloped behind him but suddenly yanked on his reins, skidding his mount to a stop. Ada and horse disappeared.

  Silas scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to Isroc. The man sat in his saddle, gray eyes glaring down. Silas followed his gaze to a cliff edge just a few feet ahead of them. He approached the edge, looking down a sheer wall to a river that churned through the rocky hills.

  Somewhere down there, Ada was still alive. He wouldn’t let the man go that easily.

  Not only had the man killed his brother, but he’d apparently killed Isroc’s father as well. Ada wanted Cain dead, probably all of them dead too. Silas wouldn’t let that happen. He’d get his revenge, and he’d stop any more pointless deaths from happening. He wasn’t certain why Ada wanted Cain dead, or anyone else for that matter, but he did know one thing.

  He would kill Ada Arillius.

  The Problem with Promises

  The morning sun shone over the mountains and ravines, filtering through the fronds of sweeping evergreens. Golden rays danced across the river to flash against the encroaching ravine walls.

  Adriel stepped out of the ship’s hold, fully armored and rucksack shouldered.

  Cain smirked as he noticed her. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yes, we’re getting off now.”

  He looked to his map. “But we still have a few more miles until we drop anchor.”

  Adriel stabbed a finger out ahead of them. Cain looked in the direction she pointed and noticed a group of buildings in the distance.

  Cain sniffed. “Right, well…” He handed her the map. “Soldiers, prepare to dock!”

  A mass of driftwood met them and bounced against the sides of the ships. Ahead, hollowed out hulls lined the riverbanks or lay forgotten half submerged in the water. The spires of once great ships jutted from the deep; fragments of their sails still clinging to what little remained. Many of these masts clawed at the bottom of the passing transports, their sodden wood eventually breaking from the strain.

  The transports soon reached the ruins of a shipyard and turned down the many diverting rivulets to hide among the refuse. Their gangplanks touched down on the docks and the soldiers began a slow trickle into the buildings.

  Cain grabbed Valerik by the shoulder as he passed. “Stay here with a few of your most trusted men. I want you to continue your search for any more spies.”

  “I won’t let you down,” Valerik saluted.

  Aren approached as Valerik marched off. “We’re working hard, but we’ve still only found the one spy.”

  Cain frowned. He’d worried that the little show they’d put on with Kirst had driven any other possible spies deeper into the shadows. Still, it had been necessary. “We’ll find them. Don’t worry, Aren.”

  “I fear for Silas and Isroc. They likely have spies among them as well.”

  “I would expect nothing less from Iscarius.” They had underestimated the Aceden leader for far too long. Who knew what the man was capable of.

  Cain turned to his army. “Ninth and tenth regiments, make camp and guard the ships. Sixth regiment, you will march for Killu and confirm the status of the city. Do not engage the enemy. The rest of you are with me. We march for Galenth.”

  The Warriors carefully traversed the ramshackle docks of fractured boards and rusty nails until they came to the empty buildings.

  Droplets of water trickled over them and they looked up to see a roof ready to buckle onto their heads at a breath’s fancy. Great gaps interspersed the tiled roof and rafters hung from their mounts. Beams of sunlight stabbed down to fend off the cold shadows.

  Cain stepped out of the shipyard into the surrounding forest. Aren and Adriel stopped at his side. He smiled at them, and, with a tired step forward, led the Alliance on the march for Galenth.

  Cain blew at the spoon in his hand. Steam erupted from the stew. He cautiously brought it up, nearly dropping it as it scorched his lips.

  “Careful, silly, it’s still hot!” Eileen chided with a grin.

  “I still don’t see why you insist I always try your cooking first. It’s always excellent.” Cain set the spoon and bowl aside and turned in his chair to watch his wife.

  She knelt at the hearth, stirring a kettle of stew as she pored over her trade ledgers. The aroma of herbs filled their small kitchen. “Because you always say that, and because I can always do better.”

  “You married me after all. I’d say—”

  “That I can do better.” She stabbed her spoon at him. “Exactly.”

  Cain clenched his heart. “You wound me.”

  “I haven’t even begun,” she smiled over her shoulder.

  “I’ve taken arrows, knives, axes, and swords, but only your words hurt me so!”

  Eileen closed a book. “Well, you actually have to move out of the way. If you dodged the swords perhaps you wouldn’t be so full of holes.”

  “What did I do to deserve this?” he cried.

  Eileen sat at the table across from him. She crossed a leg over a knee and adjusted her skirts. “I’m pregnant.”

  Cain gulped, the hot stew scalding his mouth. He dropped the spoon on the tabletop with a clatter. “What?” he managed to sputter.

  Eileen hid a laugh behind a hand. Her laughs were a sweet music. “Oh, Cain, we’re having a child!”

  Tears swelled in Cain’s eyes. “I leave tomorrow. I can stay a while longer,
I’m sure. I just need to go back to Dun Ara and sign a leave order, pass command to Aren. He’ll understand. I’ll—”

  “No, you have your duty to your men. Go, my soldier, I’ll be here when you come back. We’ll just have to make the most of tonight.”

  Cain jumped from his chair and embraced her. The two fell over the tabletop in laughs. A raven clung to the windowsill overhead, watching them with its frozen yellow eyes.

  Cain slowly opened his eyes. He sighed as he watched the top of his tent ripple in the breeze. He cursed and climbed out of his tent with a stretch.

  He passed the remains of several campfires where slim vestiges of food littered the grass and unused pipe weed lay abandoned by soldiers’ rucksacks. He worked his way through the tents and their snoring occupants.

  Cain soon came to the outskirts of the camp and nodded to the guards. He left the camp behind and continued deeper into the forest.

  These dreams were painful. Those memories were the happiest of his life, and he was forced to relive them every night. Why? He didn’t deserve the brief moments of bliss that they brought. He’d failed Eileen. He’d gotten her killed. Why did he have to be reminded of that?

  He stopped in his tracks. Rocks ground into the dirt behind him. Ceerocai! He’d left it in his tent. What if he were attacked? He spun, ripping the hunting knife from his belt. Adriel stood a few feet away, eyes lit with surprise.

  “You startled me,” Cain exhaled, sheathing his knife.

  Adriel smiled. “At least I know I can sneak up on an Outrider. I saw you walk past my tent. You looked troubled.”

  Cain gazed up at the sky. Dark clouds blackened the stars. “Every night I have these dreams, these nightmares, I don’t know what to call them. They’re painful; they bring up things I’d rather forget.”

  Adriel nodded. “I like to think that dreams come from the heart. Your regrets, fears, desires. Even if they’re bad, they can show you something you may need to know. If they’re good, well, you can simply enjoy them. They’re a nice escape.”

  “I don’t see how. All they do is keep me from sleep. I haven’t slept well in weeks.”