Malecai raised his sword in response. The dark blood of Abaddon’s beast shone in the firelight. “I would not have you killed, but it must be done, for the fate of Tarsha rests on your future, and I will see to it that it is not a long one.”
Cain backed up again. His mind was a battleground of emotions. He had to find answers. “Alanis said the same to me at Morven. He said that Abaddon razed Andaurel twice, killed my parents, butchered my wife and son because my family was a threat to him. Now, I’m all that’s left. If you’re here for me, then take me to your master. There’s no need for this bloodshed.”
“You really are a fool. Abaddon is dead!” he suddenly screamed. “I killed him!”
A surge of strange emotions washed through Cain. Happiness. Relief. Uncertainty. Anger. If Abaddon really was dead… what did that mean?
“You say you fight for us and yet you fight against us. You kill Abaddon and end his genocide and yet you start another. What do you want, Malecai?”
Malecai shrugged his shoulder, knocking his tattered and bloodied cloak to the side. A large pauldron slipped forth, and from this, a chain fell. Its three curved blades swung menacingly in the breeze. Fires danced in its callous grin.
Malecai looked to Cain and their eyes locked for a moment. “Your life. Nothing more, old friend.” He launched forward, chain daggers whistling violently toward Cain.
Cain lurched to the side as the daggers shot past him. Malecai flicked his arm and the blades recoiled after their prey. Cain jumped, and the weapon whizzed an inch past his side. Malecai twisted his body and the blades circled around him and flashed toward Cain again.
The chain daggers leapt for his face and Cain rolled under them at the last moment. He came to a stop and sighed as his face stopped inches from a fire. He jumped to his feet and spun.
The daggers raced toward him, and he swung his sword to deflect them. Instead of breaking, the chain wrapped itself around Ceerocai’s hook. Malecai gave a jerk and nearly wrenched the sword from his opponent’s fists. Cain slid across the rocks as he struggled against his opponent.
Iscarius tugged on the chain and pulled his foe to him. Cain dropped to a knee and pulled on his sword, freeing it and sending Iscarius stumbling.
Iscarius swung his body like a pendulum and the chain whipped back. Cain jumped for his opponent, the chain daggers flying past.
Cain landed heavily and stumbled in pain. He looked down to see the chain wrapped around his chest and two of its daggers rooted deep in his left arm.
His legs shook, threatening to buckle. He managed to raise his sword, and with a powerful swing, broke the chain. Iscarius faltered from the shock and tossed the chain aside.
Cain spared a glance for the blades stuck in his arm. No time to worry about that now. He grabbed Ceerocai with both hands, blood trickling from his wound.
The two men charged.
Evening fell over the fortress of Brunein. An overwhelming mass of bodies filled the streets and an even greater sea of red accompanied it. Blood soaked the stones and the sands beyond, trailing into the ocean like tiny tributaries.
The two armies battled through the devastation. The entire first floor was now in ruins, and the second quickly succumbed beneath the endless swells. The defenders fought for every inch of remaining stone as they retreated through the streets, Acedens crashing down around them.
The defending army shrank back beneath the powerful assault, slowly and painfully withdrawing across the second floor. Blackness swallowed the fortress. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, the Alliance fought like cornered dogs. Their end was upon them.
What little remained of Brunein’s defenders withered. The rags of the Inveiran resistance pressed around the northeast corner of Brunein and formed an arc around the old storeroom. The Acedens filled the entire fortress, one solid shadow that grew over everything it touched.
The rear ranks of the Alliance pushed into the storeroom toward the small tunnel beyond its walls. Thousands of soldiers pressed around the tunnel, slowly trickling into the safety of its dark depths. This was their only escape, their only hope.
Their hopes came shattering down with the singing and ringing of steel. Their ranks bowled back, and bodies spewed forth as Acedens burst from the tunnel with red spears and swords. They surged into the storeroom, hemming their panicked foes in from both sides.
Aren burst from the crowds, saber held low at his side as he hobbled through the fight. He eventually spotted Isroc.
Isroc stood in place, sword dancing skillfully between opponents. He deflected a sword and drove his blade into a man’s neck. He shoved the body into an incoming spear and slammed his weapon over his attacker’s head.
“Isroc, Isroc!”
Isroc noticed Aren and shoved through the press toward him. “What is it?”
“I have to find Cain.”
“You don’t have to do shit. Cain chose to fight Iscarius. If he’s in trouble, then it’s his own damned fault for being thick enough to think he can fight that thing alone. Besides, you’re hurt. You should be somewhere safe.”
Aren shook his head, gripping his back. Blood oozed through his fingers from the gash in his leather armor. It did hurt, but he barely paid it any mind. There were more important things to take care of right now. “I’m going to find Cain. I’m taking some men with me.”
Aren turned but Isroc grabbed him by the arm. “Damn it, man, we don’t have time for this. We need to get these men out of here. This place is done for!”
“You and I both know that Cain is the key to everything. I don’t know how or why, but he is. We can’t lose him. You just have to hold the storeroom until I get back, I won’t be long.”
Isroc cursed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re bloody surrounded. You’ll never make it!” He stepped aside as a soldier shot toward him and swung his messer into the man’s neck.
Aren pulled an Aceden from Isroc and cut him down. “Damn it, Isroc, I have to try!”
Isroc cursed, looking out over his soldiers. “Go, then. I’ll stay here and hold as long as I can.”
Aren nodded and slipped through the fighting. He eventually spotted Moran over the heads of the enemy and shouted his name. The general brought his great sword down on an Aceden, letting the body drop, blade still wedged in the man’s ribcage.
The general turned to him. “What can I do for you?” He drew an arming sword from his belt and swung it into an attacking Aceden.
“Moran, help Isroc hold the storeroom until I get back.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time? You’re bloody useless, the lot of you!”
Silas burst from the fighting. “What are we going to do? We’re trapped!”
“At least someone’s talking sense,” Moran chided. “Where are you going? This place is swarming with Acedens.”
“I’m going to find Cain.”
“Not without me, you’re not,” Silas replied.
Moran cursed. “Where is he?”
He pointed to the distant lighthouse. “Fighting Iscarius.”
The general cackled and dove into the fighting.
Silas bowed his head at Aren’s news. “Cain’s been there for me my entire life. I won’t give up on him.”
“Great, am I the only sensible one here?” Moran huffed as he drove his sword through an Aceden’s gut.
Aren smirked. “Probably so. Just hold here, all we need is a few minutes.” Moran pulled from the fighting and raised his war horn in response. He gave a deep, lingering note that echoed through the fortress. They would hold here. They would die here.
The two Warriors weaved through their army and soon reached the edge of the Alliance. Valerik and his company surrounded the Warriors and raised their shields. Together, they pushed through the enemy flank. They eventually came out the other side and began the long run across the fortress, hordes of Acedens chasing after them.
The cerebreum blades met with a violent crash.
The two combatants ba
ttled across the peak, smoke and embers flying. Weapons hissed through the air. Metal pounded.
They danced about each other, moving in and out with blinding strikes. Every stab met with a parry, every swing returned with a riposte. They fought with an unbridled intensity, anger and hate clashing with equal force.
Iscarius thrust his palm out and a blast of air took Cain off his feet. Following up with a flash of black lightning, he leapt after his prey. Cain skidded to a stop and swung Ceerocai into the attack. Lightning hammered against the blade, crackling and popping around him. He pushed and sent the attack back at Iscarius, but the man caught it with ease, snapping it into a whip that he then lashed out.
Cain repelled this too, shielding his face against spraying debris as the whip smacked against his weapon, once, twice, then broke against the tower’s rubble.
They met with a series of quick, brutal blows, sidestepping and testing each other for an opening. Cain beat against his opponent and threw mighty swing after mighty swing, driving Iscarius back against a pile of debris.
Iscarius hurled out another wave of wind, but Cain predicted this and dodged, moving in for the kill. A flash of light took him in the chest.
He lurched across the hilltop, barely maintaining his footing. Iscarius was quickly on top of him. Cain avoided a surprise shot to the legs and swung his own sword in retaliation. The blade kissed a nearby fire and sent the flames at Iscarius. Iscarius threw his hand forward and the fires halted obediently before him. Iscarius pitched his hand forward and the wall careened toward his foe. Cain threw his sword up, yet the powerful blast nearly threw him off his feet. He slid backward for several yards before coming to a stop.
Instead of charging, Iscarius raised an arm overhead. The lighthouse imploded and launched its debris toward Cain. Iscarius lifted a hand again and the flames around them swirled into one to envelop his opponent.
Cain swung his sword like a madman, desperately struggling to fend off the fire and rubble. His sword basked in the firestorm, a pocket of hot air forming around him as the fires swirled and buckled.
Massive stones burst from the fires. Cain jumped and weaved in place, narrowly avoiding the wreckage. He sprinted through the stones and drove a wedge through the inferno, jumping toward its end.
A snare of lightning shot from the other side. The tendrils wrapped themselves around him and hurled him to the earth. He howled with pain, unable to move. Heat filled his flesh. Sinew and muscle burned from his bones. The crackling of his skin filled his ears like the popping of a cook fire.
Lightning, wind, fire, and light seared from the unseen. Debris continued to dart about, levitating by an unnatural hand to crash around him. He gasped for air as the fires encroached, his lungs pleading for release. At last, his head fell back, and his sword dropped useless beside him.
The fires suddenly swept to either side and vanished into nothingness. Iscarius appeared through the drifts of smoke.
“Alas, Cain Taran, you have failed.” His voice sounded tired, sad even.
This couldn’t be it? Could it? Cain could see his death, he felt it looming. Nothingness. So, this was what it was like to die. Well, he wasn’t dead. Not yet anyway. Summoning the last bits of strength remaining to him, Cain climbed to his knees. He reached out for Ceerocai and feebly clung to the sword, desperately searching for its familiar warmth and power. It was cold. Why abandon him now, at the moment of his death?
“A hero even in death.” Malecai propped his boot against Cain’s face and pushed. Cain fell back, ribs cracking under the weight. He gripped his chest, gasping for breath.
“Why do you fight me? I want what you want. Peace. Is that not what you claim to fight for? To sacrifice for the good of others? Give your blood for Tarsha. Give your life to me here and now that we might have our peace. Four hundred years of suffering may at last be ended by one selfless act.”
Cain rolled to his side and pushed off the ground. He rose to his knees, and with another feeble push, staggered to his feet. He swayed in place and watched his old friend through bloody eyes. One selfless act.
“I think I know my purpose now. What I’m here for.”
Malecai nodded solemnly.
“I am tired of war…”
“We all are.”
“Do it.”
Malecai nodded. He stepped forward and rested a hand on Cain’s shoulder. He gently pushed him back over the rubble.
Cain looked over his shoulder to the ravine and the fortress streets far below. He watched as Aren, Silas, and Valerik sprinted up the road toward the peak with a company of men at their heels. They clashed with a small group of red armored Acedens at the head of the bridge.
Cain turned and looked at his traitorous friend. He then raised Ceerocai between the two. Malecai returned his stern gaze and reached for the sword. With his last reserves of strength, Cain turned and tossed Ceerocai off the peak. The sword arced through the air and disappeared over the edge.
Malecai glowered at Cain. He then shook his head and sighed. “Goodbye, old friend.” He pushed Cain off the peak to his death a hundred feet below.
Into the Mountains
Isroc slammed a fist into the wall of rock beside him. It echoed in the tiny cave. “Damn it, Moran, we don’t have a choice.”
The general snorted. “Bullshit we don’t. These mountains stretch for hundreds of miles, not even our best hunters can lead us safely out the other side.”
“And what do you propose we do then?”
Moran stepped closer. “Turn around. Take the fight to them. I can send them scampering away with their tails between their legs in a week.”
“No. We couldn’t even win a fight against them in your strongest fortress. I can’t let you take these men; we can’t afford more casualties.”
Moran glared down at Isroc and crossed his meaty arms.
Adriel approached the cave with a frown. The two hot-headed fools had been arguing all evening. Nearby soldiers watched them apprehensively. A crushing tension fell over the camp.
“Sorry to interrupt this little pissing match,” Adriel said. The two glanced at her with a scowl. Had they forgotten their job? Someone should be watching him!
Adriel shoved between them with a growl and entered the cave.
Cain laid inside on a makeshift bed of straw and mats, bloody and broken. Adriel knelt beside him. She picked a rag out of a bowl of tart smelling liquid and gingerly dabbing it across his forehead.
Cain slowly opened his eyes. Adriel fell back in disbelief.
She then shrieked with excitement, causing Isroc and Moran to spin about with hands on their swords.
The two men approached, smiling down at Cain. Adriel fell over him, squeezing him tightly. Cain groaned, wincing in pain. His vision seemed to focus, and he turned to see her. He smiled.
He tried to move, his face straining with effort. Adriel frowned.
His body was broken.
She rested a hand on his bruised cheek. “Save your strength.”
“What happened?” he managed to croak. Adriel bowed her head. How could she explain something like that? She stood and turned to Isroc for help.
Isroc stepped forward. “You died, Cain.”
“What? That’s impossible.”
“The Acedens took Brunein. Aren and Silas went to find you. Iscarius pushed you off the peak; you must have fell a hundred feet. They retrieved your body and followed the withdrawal into the mountains.”
Adriel wiped at an eye. “You were dead in my arms, Cain. You were dead for minutes, hours. Then… you just came back. We did everything we could, but the healers said it was only a matter of time before you would…” She lowered her gaze again.
Isroc leaned out of the cave’s entrance. “Silas, Aren. Cain’s awake!”
The two friends soon appeared grinning in the entrance. Silas rushed across the cave and fell over Cain, crushing him with in an embrace.
Isroc pulled him off. “Give him some air, friend,” he chuckled.<
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Silas shook his head and smiled again. “I can’t believe you’re alive. You’re one tough bastard, mate.” Cain smiled back despite the pain.
“I knew you’d pull through,” Aren added from his position against the wall.
“Aye,” Silas said, “the healers don’t know shit. Most of the bastards ran off with the King anyways, not to mention half the army. Oh, and the cowards that made a break for it as soon as they were free of the tunnel. We had to fix you up right ourselves, though Adriel did most of the work once she saw my poultices.”
Aren smiled. “I think what Silas means to say is that we’re glad to have you back.”
Cain turned his gaze to a torch propped above him. “Why can’t I move?”
Isroc knelt beside the others. “We think half of your ribcage is cracked or broken, not to mention your hip. Both your shoulders and one of your knees were out of place, the other one looked like shattered glass. Your chest and arm were torn open to the bone, your back was smashed to pieces on the street, and shit, I’m surprised your brain’s not cornmeal right now.”
Cain blinked. “My brain was cornmeal already.” The group laughed at this.
“That’s not funny,” Adriel hissed. She turned to Cain with a stern gaze. “You could have died for good!”
“Well, if I had a choice I wouldn’t have died in the first place.” Adriel sat back, her gut a churning mess of emotions: relief, fear, joy. The others fell quiet.
Cain turned to Isroc after a while. “So, how long has it been?”
“A fortnight.”
“I’ve been out for two weeks?”
Aren frowned. “Yes, we escaped Brunein and withdrew into the mountains. You’ve been surviving off mushed bits of oats and berries and herbs and drops of wine and water.”
Isroc shifted with some discomfort. “We’ve been blindly fleeing through the mountains. No one knows how to traverse these passes. Not even the Inveirans.” He threw a glare at Moran.
The general growled from the front of the cave. “Don’t get me started. The Southern Malrim are beyond any man. No one can cross them safely, especially its west reaches, which we happen to be in the middle of.”
A New Reign Page 26