Hundreds of bodies littered the gorge before him. Acedens and Alliance alike mixed in a common pool of blood, twisted and mangled from a conflict not hours past. Birds already alighted among the slaughter, their caws of delight echoing in the crags.
The Acedens wandered the carnage, sifting through the battlefield and taking anything of use. Ada walked between the corpses and peered down into their eyes as he passed. He grabbed a passing soldier by the arm. “Are they here?”
“No, sir,” the Aceden replied, “we’ve lost them again.”
Ada gazed over the death around him. “No matter. I know where they’re going.”
The Warriors set Cain’s stretcher down in the rocks. The Alliance spread out and set camp, if a distinct lack of tents and squatting in the dirt counted as camp. Soldiers huddled together, gnawing on their rations without so much as a whisper. Night settled in as men moved out to form patrols.
Aren distributed a handful of biscuit between his friends. He then leaned against a tree, gripping his back. The white of fresh bandages peeked from his tattered clothes. He rolled his food in a hand, eyes staring at nothing.
“How long until we’re out of this forsaken country?” Silas whispered.
Arms stiff and weak, Cain slowly raised his food to his lips, each bite sending jolts of pain through him. “About four days or so to Ekran. Over a month to Morven by ship. That’s if we can slip past Iscarius’ fleets.”
Silas pulled his deck of cards from a satchel and thumbed through them absentmindedly. “Aye, it’s a gamble, Cain, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He frowned down at his cards. “But what are we going to do? Malecai won’t stop at just burning Inveira. Morven could be ash by now for all we know, or Kaanos… things aren’t looking so good.”
Aren leaned forward, shaking himself from his stupor. “Malecai obviously wants Ceerocai. Maybe we could use it against him somehow, lure him into a trap.”
“No,” Cain replied, “Ceerocai is useless now. I know you saw that beast die at his hands. The last remnant of Abaddon died at Brunein.”
The group fell quiet, eyes cast down. “I did,” Aren said, “but it can’t really be gone, can it? Abaddon’s power, just snuffed out like that?”
“Malecai is powerful. After facing him, I can believe that he killed Abaddon. He killed the beast too, I felt its power vanish. Ceerocai is nothing more than a hunk of metal now.”
Aren laid back against a tree trunk, wincing. “I don’t believe Ceerocai is useless. I won’t believe it. It still has a part to play.” He returned Cain’s gaze. “You still have a part to play.”
Cain’s eyes flashed open. He stared up at the roof of his tent, panting heavily. A surge of pain suddenly shot up his arm.
He flinched and turned to Adriel sitting beside him with a wide grin. “Don’t be a baby,” she jested before grabbing his arm again. She raised a glob of strange, white paste and dabbed it over a gash in his arm.
Cain grimaced and pulled his arm away from the burning paste. He looked down at his arm and beamed. “I can move!” The numbing pain was no longer there. In fact, he actually felt good!
He extended his arm and wiggled his fingers, nearly bouncing with elation. He lifted his other arm, reveling in the strength that swiftly returned to him. He wouldn’t be useless anymore. He could fight!
He made to stand, but Adriel pushed him back onto the stretcher. “Slow down there,” she laughed, “you wouldn’t want to hurt yourself again.”
Cain followed her order and stayed sitting, moving his arms with a newfound wonder, every movement sending a now unfamiliar ripple of sensations up his spine.
Adriel returned to packing his wounds. “What is that?” he asked, wincing at the new jolts of pain. “It’s incredible.”
“We call it Carvalas, it’s an herb that grows in the watersheds of Charun’s heartland. It helps heal and fight infection. But it’s only a plant. It couldn’t have done… this.”
“Well it burns.”
“Would you rather your arm fall off?” she asked as she slapped a lump of the white mush on a wound. “The people we rescued from Galenth, the old men and women, the little girls and boys, they all surely died in Brunein. Or worse. We couldn’t get all of them out.”
Cain turned to her. She sniffed, perhaps from the cutting smell of the paste. “People die in war,” was all he could think to say.
“The people are the real victims. We fight, and they die. Why?” She dabbed the Carvalas where Malecai’s chain daggers left a hole. “Why do you think I picked up the sword?” she asked suddenly.
Cain looked at the woman, whose fair face was so often reddened with blood, a woman who defied law and death to fight for peace. He had never given her question much thought; to fight was to live, after all. Now, in this tent, surrounded and outnumbered, the world beyond in ash, and Adriel’s wrists still scarred from chains, perhaps he understood why she fought.
She didn’t answer her question as she began to unravel the bandages around his torso. Her thin fingers slid across his skin, sending a chill up his spine. He blinked as he felt this peculiar sensation. He could feel again.
Adriel’s mouth hung open.
“What?” he asked, struggling to see over his shoulder. She remained silent. “What?”
“Your wounds. They’re nearly healed.”
“That’s a damn good plant.”
Adriel shook her head. “Carvalas doesn’t work this fast. Or this well.”
Cain felt at his back. The many gashes rent across his spine were now little more than shallow scars. Even his flesh, once black and red, had returned to its dark, olive tone.
“I don’t believe this,” Adriel whispered.
“I’ve been torn up pretty bad before. But I always come back.”
“Not like this. Your body was broken. Something’s going on here. This… this shouldn’t be possible.”
He managed to twist his head enough to see. He hadn’t really noticed until now that his ribs didn’t crack when he moved. Hadn’t they burned in agony just days before? His back didn’t even hurt.
And then he saw them. Faint veins of black webbed out from his wounds like the pale fingers of frost on a cold window. Adriel rested a palm on his back as if to feel the strange webs. “You were dead, Cain…”
He bowed his head. “How am I alive, Adriel?”
She remained silent, tracing her hand along the thin black veins. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t think I want to.” She laid her head on his shoulder, her hair brushing over his back. “I’m so glad you’re here, Cain.”
“You don’t have to fight, Adriel; you can walk away now if you want.”
“You know I can’t do that,” she replied. “I have to fight. I’ve always had to.”
Cain gently pulled on her arm, and she moved to sit beside him. “You are strong. The strongest person I know. Just… don’t end up like me.”
“And what have you become?” She glanced up at him.
“A shell.” Cain met her gaze. “I fought for revenge for so long that I failed to see its futility. Now I have nothing left. I am nothing.
“I tell myself I fight for the right reasons, but I’m still not sure what pushes me forward, my duty to the people, or my anger. Or because killing is the only thing I know. I’m not sure if I’ll ever really know. All I can say is that I’m trying to do the right thing. But it’s probably too late for that.”
Cain leaned forward and lifted Adriel’s face. “Remember what you made me promise you?” She looked up at him questioningly. “Before Galenth, you made me promise you that I would enjoy life no matter what happened. That’s a promise I will not break. But I think that was as much of a promise for you as it was for me.” She sniffed.
“You’ve kept me fighting, your smile, your laugh. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you lose those things. But you don’t smile like you used to. You don’t laugh like you once did. Don’t lose those. They are the greatest weapons you ha
ve in this world, and I would fight a thousand wars to see you smile again.”
Adriel blinked. A heavy tear poured down her face. She gave a vigorous nod, then smiled. “Thank you. Thank you for everything, Cain.”
The Alliance climbed over the hills topped with brown grass and heather. The trees pulsed in the rise and fall of the wind, their leaves carried away in the breeze. It was a world of color. Oranges and reds and yellows, hills of brown and green, towering mountains green and white. The first touches of autumn. The world seemed crisper to Cain, as if a masking veil had finally been lifted from his eyes.
He watched the clear blue sky from his stretcher, wisps of clouds lazily rolling by. He breathed in the smells: sweet grass and flowers, the earthen hints of fallen leaves, the dampness of the dew at their feet.
He craned his neck and looked up at Aren bearing his part of the stretcher. Aren stared ahead with determined eyes. He shook slightly, shifting the stretcher with every uneasy step. Yet he watched the blue skies and colorful trees, a smile pulling at his lips. His eyes were red with pain.
He had tried to persuade Aren to let someone else carry his part of the stretcher. But his friend had refused every time. For all his talk of Cain being the stubborn one…
He turned to Adriel who perked a brow at him, glancing back at Aren. Cain shook his head and laid back in his stretcher. He wanted to say something, but he’d asked his friend about it several times already, and each time Aren had insisted it wasn’t an issue. Cain just hoped his friend would be alright.
They walked on in silence as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Eventually, a scout parted the formations and approached the Warriors. “Ekran is a few miles ahead,” the man reported.
“And our troops?” Cain asked.
“Their camp’s nearby, hidden at the base of some mountains.”
“Thank you, soldier. Spread the word that we’ve arrived.”
The scout saluted and slipped through the formations.
True to his word, the Alliance soon reached the bend in a mountain ridge. Two scouts appeared and led the army along the ridge until they came to a depression between two slopes. Dozens of cream-colored tents appeared through the trees and the growing dark.
The faint vibrations of men’s voices filled the air and their fellow soldiers came forward to greet them. Isroc appeared through the crowd and stopped before his friends. He embraced Silas and the two clapped each other on the back. Isroc shook Adriel and Aren’s hands before kneeling beside Cain with a grin. “You’re… you’ve healed! How is that possible?” He looked to the others, as if expecting them to know.
Cain shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m thankful for it. Tell me, do you have news of Ekran?”
“You were right,” Isroc answered, still gaping. “The Acedens have taken Ekran.”
Cain fought a smile. He couldn’t afford to dwell on what would’ve happened had he been wrong. “How far is it?”
“Less than five miles. I’m surprised we beat you here. We had to move around a lot to lure out a contingent, and even more to shake them.”
Cain laughed. “I’m slowing them down. If only I could walk.”
“You will soon enough, my friend. For now, leave the fighting to us. There will be bloodshed by tomorrow, I can assure you.”
Cain turned out and looked toward the distant Eraeos. “We can’t afford to wait. We attack now.”
The Blood of Man
Cain listened to his armies mobilize around him, unable to do more than stare at his useless legs. They headed into battle on Cain’s command and yet he couldn’t be there for them when they needed him the most. How long was he doomed to this stretcher? How long was he doomed to a life of others fighting for him?
“We’re moving out,” Isroc said, kneeling beside him.
Cain scanned his surroundings. They’d moved him to a small hill surrounded by thick woods. Large stone bricks littered the hilltop, some in neat patterns, others strewn haphazard. Alliance soldiers passed in formations, marching north through the trees.
“Let me help. I can do something, I know I can.”
“How is that?” Silas asked. “You’re about as useful as a rock now. Although, I don’t have to feed a rock. And I can bash someone’s head in with it. So…”
Isroc rested a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “Just leave the work to us, friend.”
“I hate feeling so helpless.”
Isroc frowned. “Not to worry. You’ll be on your feet soon enough as fast as you’re recovering.” His voice still held a hint of awe. No one had voiced it, but they all probably thought he’d never fully recover. Let alone walk.
“It’s not fast enough.”
“You were never one for patience. You were right though, the Acedens have ships at Ekran. I think it’ll be enough to get us home.”
Cain sighed. “This one’s yours, you’ve earned it.” He looked at his friends. “All of you.”
Isroc shook Cain’s hand and stood. “I’ll leave a company here under Aren’s command. Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”
Aren grunted. “Is that the polite way of saying I’m not fit for battle?”
Isroc clapped him on the arm. “We have to keep Cain alive at all costs. You of all people know this.”
Aren drew his saber and sat down on one of the moss-covered stones. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiled.
“I will guard Cain as well,” Adriel informed the others. She made for the rubble until Cain raised a hand to stop her in her tracks.
“Go, fight with them. They need you more than we do.”
She returned his gaze. “You almost died at Brunein. If anything happens to you…”
“Nothing will happen, trust me. Now go. The Alliance needs your bow.”
Adriel pursed her lips at him. She pulled an arrow from her hip quiver and pointed it at him. “If you let anything happen, I’ll kill you myself.” She turned to Aren. “The same goes for you.” The two men laughed nervously.
Silas rested Sitare behind his neck and flexed it across his shoulders. “Enough with the chatter. Let’s go kill some Acedens.”
Isroc turned to Cain and Aren. He swept out his arm in an Eriasan salute. The two returned his gesture with fists to their hearts. Silas grinned at them and followed Isroc through the trees.
Adriel chased after them but stopped for a moment. She looked back at the two and smiled faintly before slipping into the night.
Adriel and the other Warriors stopped at the tree line. Alliance soldiers stretched out all around them, forming a wide circle that nearly encompassed the town. They stood there in silence, watching the port of Ekran.
The Eraeos split the mountains, a vivid strand of sapphire set in the reds and yellows of autumnal trees. The chill night pulsed with a breeze, rippling the sails of Aceden ships. Transports filled the river, unoccupied save the occasional crew member patrolling the decks. There were dozens of ships, fat, black shadows lying in wait.
The town itself was little more than a hovel but construction stretched from it like new growth around a dying tree branch. The beginnings of a wall made a rough ring around the buildings and the wooden stumps of towers erected at the mouths of the roads. Smoke trickled from the chimneys of the wattle-and-daub buildings, the distant laughter and singing a strange contrast to the empty wilderness beyond.
Sentries watched from rooftops and towers, but the thin sliver of moon did little to aid their vision in the pitch dark. Torches and cook fires illuminated their faces, drowning the outside world in their lights.
Adriel squinted at the closest tower. Three men lay asleep in their chairs, surrounding a large brass bell. A fourth sentry paced the tower top as if doing his duty. This would be almost too easy.
Isroc turned and smirked at Adriel. “How good of a shot are you?”
“The best in Kaanos,” she grinned. She nocked an arrow and pulled her bowstring to her cheek. She aimed down the shaft and exhaled before letting loose.
/> The arrow spanned the expanse in an instant. It shot behind the pacing man and buried itself in the chest of a sleeping soldier.
Adriel aimed and loosed a second arrow.
The sentry reached the end of his pace and spun at the dull thump of arrow meeting flesh. He pulled his bow free and made to move toward the bell. A broadhead shot through his face and he staggered back.
Adriel cursed as the man teetered on the roof’s edge, far above a group of unsuspecting guards. With a dying gasp, he fell back onto the roof.
The Warriors sighed with relief and Adriel nocked a final arrow.
The final sentry woke. The man sprang to his feet at the sight of the bodies. He grabbed a nearby mallet and lunged for the bell.
Adriel let her arrow fly. It flashed across the field and drilled into the man’s mail. He fumbled back from the powerful strike and collapsed to his knees. Adriel loaded another arrow as the man hobbled toward the bell. This second met a keen mark in his throat, spewing blood across the bell as he collapsed.
He dropped to his death onto the bell. A metallic clang echoed across the city, alerting the Acedens within.
Adriel sighed. Nothing was ever easy.
Isroc raised his spear and turned to the others. “Let’s go.” He stepped from the trees and screamed for battle. Adriel and Silas followed suit, sprinting across the field toward the town.
Eight thousand soldiers burst from the tree line and darted across the field after their leaders.
A few, brave archers appeared from Ekran’s roads and roofs and aimed their bows into the oncoming swarms. Their meager arrows plinked at the rolling tides of steel, instantly crushed beneath the charge.
Hundreds of Alliance bowmen launched their arrows into the city, swiftly felling the gallant few. They loaded their bows again and lobbed a fearsome volley over the heads of their charging comrades.
Arrows sowed havoc among the crowds of soldiers gathering within, dropping scores of the dazed and unarmed to the earth. Men dove in and out of buildings, hands held helpless overhead beneath the continual rain of arrows.
A New Reign Page 28