Adriel reached Ekran first. She pressed against the outer wall of a building and watched an Aceden rush past, only to be cut down by a volley of arrows. She swung her sword at another Aceden but the man blasted back before she could strike him, his body riddled with arrows. Adriel stumbled out of cover.
The Alliance finally reached the outskirts of Ekran and formed a shield wall. At Isroc’s command, they stepped into the roads and began toward the river.
They marched swiftly with shields and spears raised. They slaughtered the meager groups of Acedens, pushing deep into the town. Arrows clinked against their shields and lone soldiers hacked at their flanks, but they did little to stave off the Alliance advance.
The few Aceden formations broke and they retreated, making a mad dash for the docks. The Alliance pursued, entering a wide courtyard. A regiment of Acedens waited, shields and crossbows raised. The Warriors led the charge across the court as men fell around them with bolts through their faces. The Alliance crashed into the Acedens, shields thudding and breaking from the force of the impact.
The fighting buckled around Adriel. Men shot through the air. She turned to a nearby tower where two ballistae trained on them. Acedens reloaded the machines and sent iron javelins tearing through the Alliance, skewering scores of men.
Adriel dove beneath a fountain of an elegant winged woman. Men on both sides collapsed around her, piling up in thick mounds of death. Bodies tumbled into the fountain, staining the bubbling waters red. The waters rolled from the statue’s hands in a bloody torrent.
“The tower,” Isroc cried from nearby. “Take out that tower!”
Adriel nodded and swept an Aceden’s sword aside, driving her blade through his throat. She rolled, dropped her sword with a clatter, and freed her bow. She ducked behind the base of the fountain and aimed an arrow at the men atop the tower.
A soldier rushed at Adriel from behind and swung his sword. Isroc cursed and lunged, stopping the man just before he reached his target. Isroc pulled his weapon free with a grunt and watched two archers fall from the tower.
Isroc fended off any assailant as Adriel whittled away the tower’s defenses. Bodies formed a line before him. A javelin struck the statue with an explosion, shooting debris at Isroc and Adriel.
Adriel shot through the air and rolled to a stop. She sprang to a knee and nocked an arrow.
She drew a breath and aimed down the shaft, broadhead grinning in the torchlight. The arrow arced toward the tower in a slow, graceful flight, and blasted into the skull of the final Aceden. He collapsed dead over a ballista, twisting the machine and sending a javelin up and out of the town.
Now free of bombardment, the Alliance pushed across the court, making quick work of the few men still in their way. Acedens retreated from the fight and slipped into the many side roads.
The Alliance now moved unchallenged through Ekran and eventually reached the docks. The ships were quiet, the few Acedens aboard likely having either joined the fight or slipped away. The fleet of ships was theirs for the taking. They’d won.
Adriel smiled at Isroc and the two paused to catch their breath. Silas stepped forward and clapped them on their backs with a laugh.
The Alliance circled around them, cheering at their victory.
Isroc waved his spear. “Search the place and take all the supplies you can find. We sail for Morven!”
Cain peered through the trees to the distant docks. Aren sat at his side, leaning against a stone. The two watched their army disperse and enter the many buildings, searching for supplies that they then loaded onto the ships. Was it really that easy? Cain thought.
After a while, Aren turned to Cain. “You ever get the feeling that something bad is going to happen?”
“All the time.” He’d always been suspicious if a fight went well. He should be thankful, but instead, he thought of all the ways it could’ve gone wrong. This plan had been a foolish gamble, and it had somehow paid off.
Aren turned back to the town. “I feel like that now.”
Cain looked down at his unmoving legs. “There’s nothing I can do. If something happens, I’m useless.”
“Not as broken as me,” Aren managed a laugh. He winced as he switched positions. He laid his head back against a stone and coughed tenderly.
Cain watched his friend. He wasn’t getting any better. If anything, he was getting worse. It pained him to see his friend hurting like this.
Aren continued. “Do you remember that day I stole a loaf of bread and you took the blame? How old were we—ten, eleven? When our officer caught me, you said you took it, said they didn’t feed us boys enough. When they were flogging us—well, I saw the blood you shed for me. You didn’t have to. You chose to. You chose to help me through that pain.”
Aren coughed again, gripping his back. “From that moment on, I promised myself that I’d always love the same way you loved, and that means dying for those I love if I must. I wouldn’t change this life of friendship for anything. I just wanted you to know that.”
Cain’s breath caught. “Why are you saying this?”
Aren looked up at the sky and sighed. “Have you ever thought about what the world would be like if there was no war? I do. A lot. I think I’d be a baker. I’d make those little lemon cakes, soak them in honey.” He smiled. “Of course, I would probably eat them all. I’d like to think I’d be married, maybe have a kid or two. Live in Andaurel… I miss home.”
He leaned his head back with a pained grimace. His smile slowly faded.
Cain followed his friend’s gaze and his face darkened in horror. Thousands upon thousands of Acedens poured from the surrounding trees. They descended over Ekran, constricting and devouring.
Isroc heaved a barrel onto an impressive pile of supplies and wiped his brow of sweat. He climbed the stairs to the deck of the Aceden transport and crossed the gangplank, returning to the bustling docks. He took a sack of grain from a soldier and worked back toward the ship.
A soldier knocked into him, nearly sending the sack from his shoulder. “Pardon me, sir,” the man fumbled. He looked around before dropping his eyes down. “Where do you want this?” he gestured to a large cask under his arm. “I found it in the captains’ quarters.”
“There’s plenty of room for it on the ship with the Eighteenth Battalion.” The soldier made to turn away but stopped as Silas jumped in his path.
“Not so hasty,” Silas smiled as he tossed an arm over the man’s shoulder. He inhaled dramatically and closed his eyes. “Smells like Kaanosi whisky. That’s the finest drink ever made, my friend.” Silas grabbed the cask and shouldered it. “There’s plenty of room for it on our ship.” He turned away with a grin. The soldier began to follow him.
Isroc stopped. He blinked his gray eyes and glanced around the empty buildings. Something was off. He looked over his shoulder to the man. “Soldier,” he called. The man continued after Silas. “Soldier,” Isroc called louder. The man turned. “Why have I not seen you before?”
The man offered a thin smile. “My regiment is large; I wouldn’t expect you to have seen me, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
The soldier hesitated a moment. “Soren.”
“I haven’t seen you about before, Soren; I know every sword under my command—”
The soldier suddenly drew his sword and swung.
Silas slammed the barrel of whisky over the man’s head. The soldier crumpled to the ground and Silas drove a heel into his face.
“What in Brynden’s beard was that about?” Silas spat, cradling the cask. Several cries then broke out around the docks as soldiers dropped their supplies, arrows bristling from their flesh.
“Son of a bitch,” Isroc muttered. “The Acedens. To arms, to arms!”
Thousands of Acedens suddenly appeared from every street, crashing into the unsuspecting Alliance. Archers appeared on the rooftops by the hundreds, loosing volleys of arrows that dropped scores of men in seconds.
They came like a wave
on the shore, breaking and destroying. The Alliance fell to the slaughter.
Silas shoved the whisky barrel into a passing soldier’s arms. “Go, take it to the flag ship!” The soldier looked at him, puzzled. “Guard it with your life!”
He pushed the man into the safety of their ranks and drew Sitare, driving it into an attacking Aceden.
Men were crushed from every side, plod like weeds beneath their enemy’s boots. Arrows pelted down in a fell rain, leaving the bodies of retreating men in mounds that blocked the roads.
Every unfortunate Alliance soldier caught in alleys or buildings were promptly slaughtered. The soldiers at the docks fared little better, barely holding in a tiny knot against the overwhelming masses. Twenty thousand men fell upon them. This time, there would be no escaping their destruction.
Aren stood with saber in hand, barking orders to his men. The one hundred soldiers formed a hasty circle around their leaders, barely hiding their fear. Aren’s legs shook with pain and his body just wanted to give in. He choked down his own fear and watched the shadows beyond.
Shields shook in hand, weapons pointed uncertain before them. Sweat trickled down their faces. The dying screams of their friends and brothers echoed in the forest.
Then, a throng of hundreds of Acedens appeared. Instead of washing over the miniscule group of Alliance, they gathered in a large circle, and waited.
Scores of crossbowmen stepped from the masses and aimed their weapons. Each Alliance soldier filled his lungs with a last breath before ducking behind his shield. A thick cloud of bolts descended from all sides. Shot from such close range, the quarrels sheared through many of their shields and dropped half the group.
The remaining men looked in every direction, with eyes of fright, death surrounding.
The Acedens reloaded their crossbows, then raised their weapons at the soon-to-be corpses. Bodies tumbled.
The enemy climbed over the pile of freshly slain and encircled the Warriors. They dragged Cain from his stretcher and threw him to the rocks. The others forced Aren to the ground before stripping him of his saber and discarding it. One soldier slammed his boot into Aren’s face and pinned him to the dirt.
Aren’s body exploded with agony. The pain had been there for weeks, constant and unwavering, but now it coursed through his body like a million biting thorns. His back felt as if he’d been broken in half.
Aren shook his head. His mind was fading, giving in to the pain. He forced his eyes open and looked past the bloodied remains of his soldiers to a man approaching.
The man nodded to his Acedens and knelt in front of Aren. “You must be Aren Hayden.”
Aren glanced up into the hood at the man’s one eye. “And you’re Ada Arillius.”
Ada removed his hood and looked the Warrior over. “You nearly escaped. Attacking Ekran was a bold ploy.” He gestured to his soldiers and they pulled Aren to his knees.
“No matter. We have the Alliance contained now.” He smirked as he saw Cain. “And Cain Taran.”
Aren lunged at him. “You’ll never take him!” The Acedens pulled him back and beat him into the ground.
“I’m not taking him anywhere. I’m going to kill him.”
“You’ll never kill him,” Aren coughed. This was what he’d feared. The time would come for him to finally be useful, to protect his friends and mean something, but now that the moment was here, he was too weak to do anything. The irony hurt as much as his festering wound.
He spat blood at Ada. One of the soldiers holding Aren punched him in the face and ground him into the dirt.
Ada laughed before wiping the blood from his leggings. “Now, we can play games, or we can get to business.” He turned to Cain. “Your friends and what remains of your army is down there. I am willing to spare their lives if you simply give me yours. One life,” he raised a hand, “for eight thousand.” He raised the other. “That’s not such a bad trade.”
“Bullshit! Don’t listen to him, Cain.”
The assassin ignored Aren’s outburst. “You are the Alliance’s fearless leader; they sacrifice for you, even die for you. Would you not do the same for them? Would you not die for your friends?” He knelt beside Cain. The two affixed eyes. “No. I know why. It’s because you are afraid. Your life for Tarsha, yet you will not make that sacrifice. That’s rather selfish, don’t you think? Every second that goes by, more of your people die. Think about it.”
“Don’t do it, Cain,” Aren pleaded. “He’ll say anything. Think about what Malecai said to you.”
Cain frowned at the assassin. “How can I trust you?”
Ada smiled and gestured to a soldier. The man turned and waved a black and white banner. Several bannermen appeared atop the distant buildings, waving the same black and white flags.
At this command, the Aceden war machine grinded to a halt. Every archer perched like décor on the rooftops, broadheads aimed down on the Alliance below by the thousands. The Acedens drew back to form a phalanx that snaked around the town on three sides nearly a mile thick.
Ada turned to Cain and nodded curtly. “I’ve called off the attack. One wave of these banners and my army will withdraw… or slaughter. You see, Taran? I am a man of my word. Now, are you going to let your friends and all those men die, or will you do the right thing?”
“Cain, don’t listen to him,” Aren shouted beneath the weight of a soldier’s boot. “He’ll say whatever it takes.”
The assassin shook his head. “I want what you want, the good of Tarsha. We all do. But you stand in the way of that reality, Cain Taran.”
Aren tore himself from his captors’ clutches. “No, don’t do it!”
Ada sighed and turned to his men who still struggled to restrain Aren. “Will someone shut him up already?”
A soldier beat Aren’s head into the ground again and again until his vision swam. The pain. He just wanted to surrender… let it steal him away.
Ada smiled before turning to Cain. “Now, what do you say?”
Cain frowned at Aren. “Will my friends be safe?”
“Everyone. There will be no more fighting.”
Cain bowed his head.
Ada stepped forward and drew an arrow from his quiver. “The blood of this man is all that keeps us from peace,” he cried for all to hear. “He must die, so that we can live.” He pulled his arrow’s fletchings to his cheek with a groan of the bowstring. The two locked eyes a final time. “I think that is but a small price to pay.”
Clouds flitted across the night sky.
The two armies waited in silence for what seemed hours, watching each other with unease. Then, the verdict came. Death. The banners dropped, signaling the Aceden attack. The long-held arrows finally released and shot down over the damned Alliance.
Hundreds of men dropped to the earth dead and dying and countless more fell to their knees for mercy even as their brethren died around them. The Acedens rushed forward with weapons raised.
The Alliance crumpled under the sheer weight of the initial attack. Their ranks buckled and broke beneath the crushing weight of thousands of Acedens.
Silas, Isroc, and Adriel fought among the remnants of their army. “I never thought it would end this way,” Silas cried over the roar of the bloodbath.
“End how,” Isroc asked, slamming his sword down on a man’s neck.
“You know.” He bashed Sitare across a man’s helmet. “In some shithole in Inveira!”
The two thrust their weapons into an oncoming soldier.
“How did you think it would end?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The usual. Maybe quit my day job, get married, have a dozen kids. Or watch an arzec feast on my insides.” He drove Sitare into a soldier’s face.
“Don’t give up on the latter, there’s still hope for you yet.”
A sword flashed beside them and shot into an Aceden. Adriel yanked her weapon from the man’s crumpled armor. “Are you boys done yet? We need to get Cain and Aren.”
“What of our men?”
Isroc asked. “They’re going to be slaughtered!”
“Cain’s the reason they’re dying right now. The Acedens are sure to be looking for him; we have to get to him first.”
Isroc cursed and threw himself against the mass of bodies. It was hopeless. But damn it, so was dying. The three Warriors stepped away from their soldiers and slowly pushed against the enemy lines.
They battled through the enemy ranks inch by inch, abandoning the army that they had gone through so much to build and protect. Their men watched them go, some with looks of horror, of anger, of betrayal.
The three Warriors left the bodies of their men behind and fought through the growing tides of black, swinging wildly, savagely. They clambered through bodies, rippling walls of shields, flailing swords, and spears.
They battled for their lives against the overwhelming odds as twenty thousand Acedens fell upon them. Against so many, death was certain. Against so many, their fate was sealed.
“No!” Aren screamed. He broke free from his captors and charged the assassin.
Ada turned in surprise and released a poorly aimed arrow. The arrow shot clean through Aren’s arm, stopping his crazed rush across the glade. Aren staggered back in pain. The anguish he felt—all the pain he’d ever known—didn’t hurt him as much as the thought of losing his friend. With that purpose driving him, he could finally find his worth. He growled, looking up at Ada.
The assassin turned to his men. “Kill them both.”
A black wall of Acedens rushed forward. Aren dove at the defense of his friend and tackled an oncoming soldier.
Aren ducked under a swing and grabbed the man’s arm as his sword shot overhead. He pried the sword away and plunged it through its owner’s stomach before stabbing it through another. He immediately turned and sidestepped around an attack to plant his sword through the man’s face.
Aren ran toward Cain, dodging blades left and right. Two men jumped in front of him and swung for a killing blow. Aren tumbled, their swords whistling past. He threw out his hands and grabbed their legs as he rolled, throwing them to the ground.
A New Reign Page 29