“Anyway,” Isroc continued, “the Acedens followed us from Brunein, or at least enough of them to finish us off. We’ve tangled with them a few times now. Our scouts report they have us outnumbered on three sides.”
“Anything else?” Cain asked.
Isroc paused. “There is one more thing. We believe Ada Arillius is leading them.”
Silas bit his lip at this. He then rose and glared at his friend. “You’re just now telling us this? That dog has been following us this entire time? I could’ve killed him by now!”
“Silas, try to relax,” Isroc urged. “I want my justice as much as you do, but we have to think about what’s best for the Alliance—”
“Don’t you bloody try and tell me what to do. We could’ve killed him by now, we could’ve won.”
Isroc stepped toward him. “Because I knew you’d think only of yourself. We have men to protect, lives are on our shoulders.”
“And what’s the point? We’re all doomed.”
Isroc inched closer but Aren rushed between them, hands on their chests.
“Cain…” Everyone in the cave looked to Adriel. Her voice shook. “Who is Iscarius?”
The cave fell somber. The sun sank behind the nearby mountains, stretching long shadows in the cave.
Cain stared up at the cave wall. He couldn’t feel most of his body. It was as if he’d been submerged in freezing water, only he couldn’t even feel the cold. The parts he could feel, however, were sheer pain. It was as if he were pain. He wanted to shrink beneath it, give in to it. Perhaps he should’ve died. Why was he still alive? How?
Adriel looked down at him with concern. He gazed up into those eyes, bright and vibrant. He knew he had to keep going. He’d worry about the state of his body later.
He motioned with his head and Adriel rolled up the mat, allowing him to prop back and look at everyone. His face must have given something away, for everyone frowned at him, eyes anxious.
“What is it?” Adriel asked.
“It’s not pretty.”
“Tell us. Please.”
Cain looked up at the roof of the cave, torchlight flickering across the dark rock. “Iscarius… Iscarius is Malecai.”
Every Warrior in the room gasped in shock. “How is that possible?” Isroc gasped.
“He’s dead,” Silas cried.
“Anything can happen,” Aren replied.
“What do you know?”
Isroc stepped between them. “Come off it, Silas.”
“Shut up, all of you,” Cain cried, clenching his burning ribs. The cave fell instantly quiet.
“I’ll answer your questions, alright? Malecai didn’t die at Morven. I watched Alanis cut him open and cast him beneath the Alar. But he didn’t die. Ada Arillius rescued him.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Isroc mused. “Malecai guided us across Tarsha, fought with us against the arzecs and andreds, even protected you against Alanis.”
“I thought the same.” Cain panted for air, shifting positions as much as was possible. His lungs felt like overripe fruit about to explode. “He told me he needed us, needed me. That he needed what we stood for to build the Alliance and help defeat Abaddon.”
“Wait, he wanted to kill Abaddon? Why fight against us then?”
Cain grimaced. “He did kill Abaddon.” The others whispered fervently at this. “It’s true. Abaddon is dead. But that doesn’t mean we’re done fighting. Far, far from it.”
The group fell quiet. Adriel slid closer to Cain. “If he killed Abaddon, then why would he fight us? He saved Tarsha and now he wants to destroy it?”
“He said that he doesn’t want to destroy Tarsha. He wants to restore it.”
Silas cursed. “Just wait one damn minute, Cain. You don’t believe him, do you? He’s clearly insane.”
“He must have planned this for a very long time,” Isroc mused. “He singlehandedly armed, supplied, and trained an underground army in Inveira for who knows how long. He won over hundreds of thousands of civilians and soldiers to his cause, all without alerting anyone of his plans. A man like that is not insane. He’s fighting for a purpose. He even managed to win Branim over, shocking, isn’t it?”
Cain sighed. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“That’s how they got into Brunein so easily, the king and his Acedens opened the gates. Branim must have wrote that letter to Darius knowing that he would send us. He amassed his troops that were not Acedens in the wrong places and kept them ill-supplied, knowing that they would be killed. He sent us to Hesed and Galenth knowing they were traps. The Acedens would finally rise and we would be killed. This has all been a setup; we were doomed from the start. Whatever Malecai wants, he must want it bad.”
“But why would he send us out to gather his soldiers? Why not just keep us in Brunein until Iscarius came?”
Isroc leaned against the cave wall with a frown. “Your guess is as good as mine. It doesn’t really matter though. He betrayed us. Betrayed us all.”
Cain closed his eyes at this and laid back again, tenderly sucking in air. “We should have seen this coming. Somehow, we should have seen it!”
“So, let me get this straight,” Moran said after a time. “Your friend helps you rebuild the Alliance, supposedly dies, kills Abaddon, then calls for an army that he’s secretly had at the back door to invade my country? Then he burns down our homes, kills my countrymen and enslaves the rest, all because of you?”
Moran stabbed a finger at Cain, his dark eyes afire. “He wants you. I will not have more of my peoples’ blood on my hands for your sake.”
Aren raised shielding hands in answer. “Malecai could just be saying all of this to rid himself of a threat.”
“I’ll not stand idly by and watch my country fall to ruin because of him.” He drew his great sword and aimed it down on Cain. “He wants your head, Taran. Maybe I should give it to him.”
Every Warrior leapt at the defense of their friend and surrounded the general with weapons drawn. Cain glared up at him, unblinking. Moran looked to each of them before laughing lightly.
“No matter, you’ll be dead soon enough.” He turned and shoved Isroc’s spear aside. “We’ll all be.” He stopped at the cave entrance. “I’m taking my army with me. They are mine and mine alone to command. You should never have come here.”
Isroc dove after him but stopped as Aren grabbed his arm. “Let him go,” he urged.
Moran stepped out of the cave mouth. “Men of Inveira,” he bellowed for all to hear. “We have lives to protect. We have an army to raise. Follow these Southerners no more. Follow your true general, and we will win back our country!”
The forest suddenly bustled with activity as men cheered for their leader and began dismantling camp. Cain gazed up at the cave’s roof, listening to the sounds of his army abandoning him.
“We march for the Iron Fjords! We will rebuild our army and take our country back from these traitors!” He hoisted his sword and his men gave a spirited cry. He then led the thousands of Inveirans out of the camp and passed the cave.
Moran watched the Warriors as he passed. He turned and led the multitude into the mountains.
The new morning sun shimmered in the mists. The occasional red and brown draped tree seemed to shine in the sunlight, their leaves drifting by on a breeze. Alliance soldiers marched through the valley, fallen leaves softening their footfalls.
The Warriors walked through the parting mists at the head of a column, bearing a makeshift stretcher between them.
Cain stirred. Even now, sleep eluded him. He opened red eyes and gazed up at the sunlit clouds. Was he really going to be like this forever, unable to move, depending on his friends to clothe and feed him? He wouldn’t be able to fight. He’d be forced to watch as others fought and died for him. No, he couldn’t let that happen. Could he?
He couldn’t feel much, but he could feel the wet warmth of a tear run down his face.
Aren noticed him awake and smiled. “Feeling better
?”
Cain grunted. “Like shit.” He turned his head and watched the trees bob past. “How many men stand with us?”
Isroc looked over his shoulder at Cain and adjusted his grip on the tree limb handle. “A little under eight thousand. The bastard Moran took the rest.”
Cain sighed. “Most of these men are Inveiran, why didn’t they go with their general?”
“They have more to fight for than their country,” Aren said. “They’ve already lost their homes and their families; they have little left here. Perhaps they see the darkness beyond, and they see it growing.”
“Eight thousand,” Cain mused. “What can we do with so few?”
Silas shrugged, shaking the stretcher slightly. “Maybe we don’t need too many men. We only had fifty swords in our company back in our Outrider days, but remember the damage we did to the arzecs?”
Cain forced a smile. He rested his head back on the stretcher and watched the blue skies for a time, the sun warming his face.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Isroc frowned. “Moran failed to mention when he led us in here that no one has ever really mapped the Southern Malrim. It’s a death trap. So, here we are, trying to find our way out of this damn maze of rock with an army nipping at our heels.”
“And what are we going to do when we leave the Malrim?”
Isroc looked away, flustered. “I never got that far. I’ve just been focused on saving our asses.”
Cain continued, pushing through the pain. “We can’t engage the enemy in these mountains. And if we somehow find our way out, not only will we eventually be tracked down and killed, but we would lead them straight to Morven.”
“So, we’re stuck in this shit hole?” Silas muttered.
The group fell quiet, listening to the pounding of their army’s boots through the rocks.
“There may be a way out,” Cain said after some time. This was a stupid idea. But what other choice did they have? “Where is the Eraeos from here?”
“North,” Isroc replied. “We forded it three days ago.”
“Is there anything between us and the river?”
“Just more damned woods and mountains. Why, do you have a plan? We could sorely use one.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Aren moaned, “or his plans.”
Cain smiled. “We’re going to Ekran.”
Isroc shook his head in confusion. “What? Why?”
“Hesed and Galenth were both traps. I’ve long had suspicions that Ekran was the same, although I’m not sure how.”
“You said the place was clean, that there were just a couple hundred men hiding from the Acedens.”
“Too clean. Which is why I’m suspicious. Valerik said that the place had long been abandoned in favor of better ports, and yet there was new construction.” Cain turned, grunting as his ribs sent a surge of pain through his body. “How long will our provisions last us?”
“A fortnight at best.”
Cain looked up at the sky again. “That’s all we need.”
Isroc’s voice fell to a whisper. “You think the Acedens will be there, don’t you?”
Cain smiled wanly. “I do. And they’re bound to have a few ships we could borrow.”
“We can’t simply go off a hunch.”
“Do you have a better plan?”
Isroc grunted and shook his head.
“He seems to enjoy his bad plans,” Aren laughed.
Aren’s laugh quickly faded with a grimace. He seemed to walk with a limp, causing the stretcher to bounce with each step. Had he been limping before?
Cain forced a chuckle. “It’s more than a hunch, Isroc. This pulled at me for a long time, though I could never figure it out. Ekran is crucial if one is to hold the Eraeos. The only reason the Inveirans would have abandoned such a strategic position is if Branim ordered them to ignore the place.”
“So, you’re wondering why both sides left it untouched?” Isroc asked. “Perhaps the Acedens were waiting for the right time to strike.”
“No. It’s a small port. Dilapidated, unmanned. A company of Acedens could have easily taken the place and prevented our movements on the river. But they didn’t. I should have seen this before.” The group looked to him curiously.
“Branim played us well. Ekran is the closest river port to Brunein, it’s the fort’s last defense to attack from behind. Branim sent us to empty its garrison and leave the port for the Acedens to take without a fight. When they sail through, they could claim it without a fight.”
Isroc smiled. “Sounds like a pretty good hunch.”
“Ekran will be manned, though it will likely be a skeleton force since so many Acedens would have been pulled for the assault. If they intend on holding the place, then they’ll have a garrison there for sure.”
“And they’ll have ships.” Isroc smiled again. “You brilliant bastard.”
“Yes, they’ll have ships; they wouldn’t be able to keep such a large fleet at Brunein, not to mention they’d leave some behind to avoid playing their entire hand. There were new docks there, far more than there should have been for a place that small. Likely, they left ships there to guard Brunein from behind and to maintain control of the river.
“Isroc, once we get closer, I’ll need you to take five hundred good men and scout ahead of the main force. With any luck, there may still be a garrison there.”
“And what if there aren’t enough ships, or any at all? We’re being chased by a mighty big army. If you’re wrong about this…”
“I know. But we don’t have any other options.”
“It’s a damned foolish plan,” Silas laughed. “I like it.”
Cain returned his gaze to the sky, watching the trees shuffle by as he worked up the nerve to ask the question. “Did anyone find Ceerocai?”
“Yes,” Aren replied, “we found it not far from where you, uh, landed.”
His breath caught in his lungs. “Iscarius didn’t get to it first?”
Isroc glanced over his shoulder at him. “Valerik beat him to it. We managed to escape before that bastard did too much damage, but he still killed most of our men. If you hadn’t tossed Ceerocai off the peak when you did, then who knows how things would have ended.”
“Valerik saved Ceerocai? I must thank the man. He may have singlehandedly saved Tarsha. Where is he?”
The Warriors drew quiet.
“He didn’t make it,” Aren answered.
Cain closed his eyes. Valerik had been a good soldier, and an even better man. Cain had failed him too. “Where is it?”
Aren looked to Adriel. Adriel bore her share of the stretcher by Cain’s head, and another weight even greater. Ceerocai hung on her back, and to Cain it seemed to lurk there like some predator. The twists of leather and metal rings that formed its baldric engulfed her lean frame, causing the sword to dangle and nearly scrape the dirt with every awkward step.
She smiled down at Cain, a resolute look in those bright eyes.
Ceerocai lay abandoned in the dirt beside Cain. Cain reached for it, but a boot pinned his arm to the ground. He rolled over, looking up at Iscarius.
Malecai sneered down at him and propped his sword under Cain’s chin. Cain inhaled a final breath and threw his hand over his weapon. Ceerocai turned a depthless black. Icy tendrils snapped across its blade. Malecai kicked Ceerocai away and swung.
Cain woke and shot up from his mat. His body felt as if it were on fire! He shook himself, trying to fight off the pain.
Wait… he had shaken himself. He was sitting up! How was that possible?
He squinted into the dark, spotting movement at the end of his tent. What was that? He cried out as he realized it was a man clawing in the grass beside him, moaning in pain. Blood trickled down his face, his terror-filled eyes like torches in the pitch dark. Cain attempted to crawl away, but his body refused to obey.
Adriel stumbled through the tent flap and pounced over the man. She brought her sword down on him with a crunch. “H
e’s alright!” she cried, pulling her weapon free. She gaped at Cain who was still sitting up but said nothing as she grabbed for his stretcher.
The night sky suddenly burst into view as his tent was ripped from its stakes. Aren and Silas threw the canvas aside and leapt over him.
“What’s going on?” Cain demanded.
“We don’t have time,” Aren answered as the three grabbed his stretcher and lifted him from the grass. “Let’s get you out of here.”
They carried him down a hill and into a large gorge, its towering walls stretching far into the dawn sky. Hundreds of bodies littered the valley floor. The Alliance roamed the battlefield, killing any surviving Acedens.
Aren, Silas, and Adriel stumbled over the corpses, the stretcher bouncing and dipping as they moved. Cain watched Aren nearly fall.
“You’re hurt, aren’t you, Aren?”
His friend barely turned to glance at him. “Yes. But the surgeons have already stitched me up. It’s not bad, I promise.” Cain knew the signs. His suddenly stiff posture, his inability to meet his gaze. Aren was a terrible liar.
Isroc jogged toward them, cutting off Cain’s reply. Blood covered his face. “We need to get him out of here, they could attack again.” He turned and drove his spear through the throat of an injured Aceden. “They’ll attack with everything they have next time. I think they’re on to us, they might move to intercept us. I’m leaving now, with any luck I can distract them and keep your way clear.”
Isroc waved his spear, and soon, dozens of soldiers gathered around him. “Get the rest of the men. We march for Ekran!”
Isroc nodded to the others and moved to the front of a formation. Five hundred men left the gorge, their boots thudding away in the dawn.
Ada Arillius led a vast column of men through the gray dawn, black banners flapping in the breeze. He looked up through the trees to ravens flitting past the clouds. He pulled his reins and slowed his charger to a stop. He doffed his hood and dismounted, tossing his reins to a nearby soldier.
A New Reign Page 27