A New Reign

by Bryan Gifford

  “Then you’re not seeing what they’re trying to tell you.”

  Cain shrugged. What could they possibly be trying to tell him? That he was a failure, no doubt. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m never wrong.” She smiled and began walking in a slow circle around him, kicking the dirt as she walked. “You’re my friend, Cain. I care about you. I don’t like seeing you tear yourself down.”

  Cain found himself smiling for some reason. “I don’t know if I deserve it. I haven’t exactly been the best friend to you, or to the others.”

  Adriel stopped and crossed her arms, watching him. “Well, you can start now.”

  “I will. You deserve better.”

  Adriel laughed. “You’re dreadfully morose.”

  “Hey, now, that’s not fair. Maybe you’re just dreadfully naïve.”

  She gasped. “Careful, Cain, I think you just made a joke. And perhaps I am, it’s about how you handle the things thrown at you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned to him, a somber look in her eyes. “I think you know what I mean. We’ve all gone through something.”

  Cain frowned. Here he was again thinking only about himself. The woman in front of him had probably suffered as much, if not more, than him. And still she managed to smile. “I’m sorry. I was selfish, thinking I’m the only one who’s lost something.”

  “We’ve all had pain. It’s what you do with that pain that counts. Do you cave in to it, or do you fight? It took me a long, long time to figure that out.”

  Adriel sat down beneath a pine and Cain joined her. “Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally unleashed a horde of rabbits on Dun Ara?”

  “So that’s why there were so many rabbits in the Pit. Wait, what does that have to do with anything?”

  Adriel nudged him in the side. “People don’t always need a reason to tell a funny story, do they? I was shopping in the market one day when I saw this cage full of cute bunnies…”

  Cain laughed as she described the madness that followed. It was a welcome change, to simply enjoy each other’s company and not worry about the problems beyond them.

  The two shared a smile and gazed up at the stars. They sat there in the shadow of the pine, sharing stories long into the night.

  The crisp songs of morning birds filled the air.

  Cain walked among his men, eyeing the surrounding evergreens that rustled in the summer breeze. The air was wet and warm, the last of the rain sucked away by the rising sun.

  Despite his efforts, it seemed difficult for him to smile. There was little to smile about. Lied to and sent to die in a foreign country. Enemies all around them and among them, an enemy well-prepared and truly massive. Joshua dead at their hands. Their purpose unknown even as they ravaged and conquered. And Abaddon, possibly dead. That nagged at Cain’s mind more than anything else. How could he have died? Sure, Tarsha fought to kill him for four hundred years, but he couldn’t be dead, could he? If he were, then why would the Acedens rebel? None of it made sense. And yet, here they were, playing themselves into this Iscarius’ hands. Maybe there really was a reason they were here. There had to be. If only Cain knew what that reason was.

  He stirred himself from his thoughts to see Adriel watching him. She frowned and shook her head. Cain watched her, perplexed as she removed her rucksack and tossed it to a passing soldier. She then grabbed Cain’s pack and struggled to rip it off his shoulders. “What the—what are you doing?” he cried as she suddenly jumped onto his back.

  “You’re not breaking your promise! You’re going to have fun even if it kills you!” She wrapped her arms around his chest. “Now, go!” she cried with a knee in his sides.

  Cain stood perplexed for a moment, clutching her thighs. “How is this supposed to be fun?”

  She kicked again and Cain groaned, trudging through the trees. “Did I say fun? I meant for me.” Soldiers laughed as Cain passed, grunting and mumbling. Yet despite his censure, a smile pulled across his face.

  He plodded along for a time, huffing as Adriel laughed. A soldier appeared in the distance, stumbling up to them and panting with exertion.

  Cain dropped Adriel, a concerned look on her face as she watched the scout gather breath enough to speak. Somehow, Cain knew what he was going to say.

  “Sir… Galenth is just ahead… there’s a battle! We’re too late.”

  Cain cursed and waved the man away. “We don’t have time.” He turned to his army, looking over the anxious, whispering masses. “Get ready for a fight, men! We move out!”

  The army split into columns, spears and pole arms flanking infantry and archers. They moved as a single, cohesive mass over the ridge and into the trees. They soon found the road and began a paced jog. The road stretched into the hills, an unending ribbon of pockmarked earth. The sounds of battle sounded through the trees. Ominous pillars of smoke rose into the sky.

  Galenth lay ahead, or rather, what remained of it. A smoldering, twisted wreckage. Once grand bastions now lay crumpled in the debris, its great gate broken open and spewing ash into the black-winged skies. And there, among it all, the city’s defenders still held. Small, disembodied groups stood firm, pressed by waves of black-armored Acedens.

  Cain drew Ceerocai and looked over his men. “Weapons ready! Heavy infantry up front, spears behind! We’re going to charge!” He turned to the dying city and bolted down the mountainside, his friends and thousands of battle-ready soldiers following valiantly after him.

  The Alliance poured through the open gates and sprinted through the maze of rubble. The bodies of hundreds of soldiers littered the wasteland, here and there unarmed men and women. Their colorful linens gave splashes of color to the gray city and black ashes, the streets washed in red.

  The Alliance came to a thick wall of smoke and dove into the roiling black. The sounds of death and battle echoed, the smoke dampening and tossing sounds about. The smoldering air thinned in spots where bodies piled or buildings still clung to life.

  The air cleared.

  Focused on their current battle, the Acedens were split up to fight the numerous cut-off groups of defenders, most of them gathered in a large knot in the market square ahead. Few managed to turn in time to face the new assault. The Alliance struck.

  Cain smashed into the wall of bodies, knocking away shields and spears. He drove through the press and cut down startled, screaming men. Warm blood sprayed his face.

  Nearby, Adriel beat back the enemy shields to allow their men to purchase a foothold in the court. She looked oddly out of place, her thin, pale frame beating against shields and armor, a speck of vivid green and gold in a swirling mass of black.

  Cain turned from her in time to block a sword. He swung—as much as the cramped space allowed—and tossed the Aceden back. He powered through the enemy lines, Ceerocai roaring in a blur.

  Cain pulled his sword from a body and blinked the sweat from his eyes. Every Aceden lay dead in the street. How much time had passed? The defenders cheered victoriously from a mound of gore. Cain called for a defensive formation and the nearby officers gathered their forces.

  Together, the patchwork formations turned down a side road and entered another market. There was still fighting here, as well as the many other branching market roads. Independent groups of defenders fought on, now bolstered by the reinforcements, but they were still greatly outnumbered. Cain’s troops flowed down the roads and joined the struggle.

  The Acedens on the main road were crushed in a pincer, but the still standing buildings prevented them from being surrounded and overwhelmed. They formed a thick shield wall to fend off Cain’s troops while those behind worked to drive a wedge through Galenth’s defenders.

  The fighting was slow, inches of ground gained and lost. The buildings pressed both forces together cheek to cheek, preventing anything other than a head-to-head collision where men hacked and beat at each other with terrible force. Gradually, painfully, the Alliance gained ground.


  Then the Acedens attacked from behind.

  The Alliance turned and blocked the Aceden advance, but not before dozens fell. They attempted to stanch the gaping holes in their ranks, but Acedens struck deep like stabbing needles.

  The Alliance reinforcements had been forced to spread out to reach the multiple pockets of defenders. Their force, now stretched thin, proved to be easy pickings for the Acedens.

  Cain called a retreat, but they had to fight their way out first. The Alliance formed a hasty perimeter of shields and spears, and the main body gathered their strength to attack the smallest of the two Aceden fronts. They threw themselves at the Acedens, hammering away at their shield wall.

  The Alliance managed to press their enemy back and trickle through to safety. Cain led his men away from the fight, their back lines struck down by the chasing Acedens. The Alliance retreated down the market road, passing clusters of fighting men. Some of the defenders turned and followed Cain’s force, retreating out of the market and into the untouched edges of the city.

  Cain glanced over his shoulder. The Acedens had stopped their pursuit. They gathered in formations on each of the roads, choosing to amass their strength against the failing Alliance. Alliance and Inveiran soldiers alike slipped through the alleys in small numbers to join Cain’s force.

  The Acedens advanced. They moved in a single homogenous mass, a force that engulfed the roads and buildings in black.

  Cain continued his retreat, and the Alliance eventually amassed in the wide courts of the western edge of Galenth. They continued through the smoke until they reached the wall.

  Great holes peppered the wall and rubble seeped from the wounds. The walls were tall, but not very thick. They were designed to keep out Abaddon’s creatures, not men and their siege weapons.

  His army made for the holes. Cain stopped on the other side, watching his men make for the distant woods. “What in Brynden’s bloody beard do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed, his roar stopping his retreating men short. “This battle is far from over!”

  Soldiers looked to each other, confused. Some looked hopeful.

  “Heavy infantry at the front, spears behind. Archers, bows ready!” A few men stirred to action but most simply stood, uncertain. “Now!” The Alliance sprang into motion to form a long line along the wall and its holes. The defenders followed their cue and soon the entire army pressed into a defensive column.

  For a time, there was only silence. The occasional clunking of metal, nervous coughs, fires crackling in the distance. Then, the Acedens appeared. A thick line of black nearly veiled by the smoke.

  Cain shot his hand forward and archers loosed their arrows. Broadheads shot over the broken courts and once well-manicured gardens and zipped into the smoke, dropping the black lines. Acedens screamed.

  The archers began a volley, shooting waves of arrows into the black smoke. By the third volley, the plinking of arrows against shields sounded through the buildings. The archers continued their assault, keeping the Acedens hunkered down.

  With a second command from Cain, the Alliance drew their weapons and rushed quietly out from behind the wall. Like silent reapers, they slipped through the smoke and cut at the Aceden formations. They retreated, leaving bodies behind. Archers loosed another volley, then the footmen moved back in.

  They continued this flow of attacks, Aceden corpses piling in the streets and slowing down any attempted advance. Unseen arrows and quick swords made efficient, cold work of killing. The Acedens pushed near the edge of the smoke but bogged down by their formation’s size and the bodies at their feet, they could do little more than die. The great mass of black broke against the brutal alternating attacks and the Acedens at last pulled away from the fighting, dragging their wounded back down the road. Arrows continued to drop men even as they retreated.

  The Alliance moved to give chase, but Cain called them off. The men ahead cursed at the backs of the Acedens, spitting into the smoke. The Alliance moved away from the wall and gathered in the streets. They gave a unified cry, their triumphant shouts echoing in the empty city. The cry rang hollow. Thousands had died, not counting civilians, and the city burned down around them. There was little reason to be joyous.

  Cain lifted his bloody weapon to call for silence. The shouting soon died as they noticed the sword of Abaddon. The thousands of men waited for his next words, as if spellbound. “We may have won for now, but the Acedens will be back. Where is your leader?” They exchanged whispers and uncertain looks.

  A soldier in fine armor eventually approached from the confused masses and bowed. “Guard Captain Ivon Yuran. You asked for me, sir.”

  “Guard Captain Ivon, I am Cain Taran, one of the Warriors of Kaanos. You must stop those fires if we’re going to get everyone out of here safely. We’ll mount fire brigades to stave off what fires we can, and we’ll need to form search parties to look for any survivors and tend to the injured. We need to be quick about it.”

  “Yes, of course. Right away.”

  “I know you just lost your city, captain, but once we tend to your civilians, we will need to leave. This place is doomed.”

  “Where would we go, sir?”

  Cain wiped his sword on an Aceden before returning it to its baldric. “Brunein. Your king fears an attack on the fortress and calls for all available troops in its defense.”

  The surrounding soldiers began whispering heatedly. Cain raised a hand and the men fell silent. “Gather all equipment and provisions. Let’s get those teams going. I’ll leave your men to you, Ivon.” The captain saluted and began shouting orders to the men around him.

  Cain swept a hand through his sweaty bangs and turned to Aren. His friend returned his smile with a breathless smirk. Cain’s smile waned.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Adriel.”

  The two looked around, scanning the dense smoke and crowds for her. Cain shouted her name, his voice barely heard over the dull roar of the preparing army.

  “Aren,” he called to his friend, barely able to keep the panic from his voice. “Go that way,” he pointed over the army. “I’ll search the market.” Aren nodded before rushing off, calling her name.

  Cain turned to the battlefield, bodies thick across the red bricks. Panic, sheer violent panic shot through him, settling like a boulder in his throat. He could face down hordes of flesh-eating monsters, but this? No. He couldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t.

  He swept through the battlefield, voice straining as he called for her. Soldiers swelled around him in a solid sea of steel. He shoved through the steel and slippery blood, sweat trickling down his skin, his heart thumping. He forced himself to watch the men sift through the rubble for the dead and wounded. The feeble cries of the dying echoed hauntingly in his ears.

  Cain searched through the bodies, stopping at each wounded Aceden he found. He shook them, demanding Adriel, but they only cried out louder, frightened and incoherent. Cain dropped a dying man and stood up with a curse, scanning the ruined market.

  A pained gasp sounded nearby. He stumbled over bodies toward the source of the noise and came upon an Aceden, gasping for air. The man clutched his chest, a great gash rent through his breastplate. A silver slash on his pauldron noted him for an officer.

  Cain turned to go but the soldier laughed. The strange action caused Cain to glance back. “I never thought it would end this way,” the Aceden stammered. Blood trickled from his mouth.

  Cain scowled. “How did you think this would end?”

  The Aceden watched a vulture circled overhead, his breathing sporadic and sharp. “Peacefully.” He closed his eyes. “I never wanted this. I wanted—I just wanted to help my family. I thought I was doing the right thing.” He coughed, blood spraying. “Please, forgive us.”

  The soldier watched Cain’s unchanged grimace and laughed. He lifted his left arm, or instead, what remained of it. He waved the gory stub at Cain. “That’s why the Forgotten hates us. There’s no decency,” he coughed up a glob o
f blood, “left in us anymore.”

  “Then do one decent thing before you die,” Cain muttered. “Tell me, did you take Adriel Ivanne?”

  The man turned to a vulture that alighted in the filth near him. He sighed and then pointed to the bird. Cain approached the vulture, sending it angrily flapping over to another body. Cain knelt in the blood. With a trembling hand, he reached for a bow, its once snow-white shaft stained red.

  In one motion, Cain stood over the Aceden with Ceerocai pressed against the man’s neck. “You killed her!”

  The soldier inhaled deeply and locked eyes with the Warrior.

  Aren rushed up to them and stopped at Cain’s side. “I couldn’t find her.” He fell quiet as he saw the bow in Cain’s hand.

  The Aceden managed to sputter, “The girl was captured, that’s one reason we attacked this place. We knew you’d come here soon enough. She was taken—taken to our base in Alkanost.”

  “She’s alive?”

  The Aceden nodded.

  The tension immediately washed from Cain, and in its place, a numb relief.

  Aren knelt beside the Aceden and gripped him by his breastplate. “Where is Alkanost?”

  The man wiped the blood from his mouth. “You won’t find it on any map. It’s far north, on the coast. It’s one of our launching bases for the assault on Brunein. It’s a trap… for him.” He eyed Cain.

  Cain shook his head and raised Ceerocai.

  “No!” Aren dove for him as Cain swung his sword. The two wrestled for control of the weapon.

  “One decent thing,” the Aceden whispered, closing his eyes. Cain wrenched free of Aren’s grip and plunged Ceerocai over the man. The man’s head hung limp.

  Cain pulled his sword free, then fell to his knees.

  Aren rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, Cain. We have to go.”

  Cain turned to Aren with fiery eyes. “No.”

  “What?”

  “I have to find Adriel.”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  In response, Cain wiped his sword on the body, returned it to its sling, and shouldered his rucksack. He picked up Adriel’s bow, stepped over the body of his latest victim, and began down the market road.