A New Reign

by Bryan Gifford

  An Aceden rushed at him and swung his sword. Aren ducked and tackled the man, throwing him to the ground before wrenching the man’s weapon away and cutting his throat.

  He climbed over the body and sprinted toward a group of Acedens running for his friend.

  He ran up behind them and cut a man down. They turned in time for him to behead another, the Aceden’s mouth wide in surprise. He spun to block a sword strike and jumped as another narrowly missed his stomach.

  He picked up a soldier’s tower shield and brought it up in time to block an incoming arrow. Aren deflected an axe blow and brought his shield down on the man’s head.

  He leapt past a halberd lunge and swung his shield, breaking the shaft in a spray of splinters. He smashed the shield into the man’s shins and dropped him to his knees. Aren grabbed the shield with both hands and swung, snapping the Aceden’s neck with a vicious crack.

  A halberd knocked his shield from his hands. Aren jumped away from a stab and turned as a sword swept over him. Aren sidestepped the blade and kicked his attacker in the chest. He pinned the sword to the ground and punched its owner in the face, then wrestled away the weapon in time to cut down another attacker.

  He rushed toward Cain’s assailants and stabbed one in the back. He ripped the blade from his victim’s spine and leaped up to plunge it into an incoming soldier’s mouth.

  Aren turned in time to evade a would-be-deathblow and kicked the man in the gut. Lunging forward, he slammed his knee into the soldier’s face. He twisted the Aceden around and held him out like a shield as a soldier stabbed at him. The sword slid through the man and Aren tossed the body aside, pulling the weapon free. He jumped at the surprised Aceden and drove the sword through the man’s gut.

  The body dropped and Aren looked up from the carnage to see a final soldier rush at Cain. Aren gave a fearsome bellow and charged at his friend’s attacker. He yanked on the arrow still implanted in his arm and leapt through the air.

  He landed on top of the Aceden and hammered the arrowhead into the side of the man’s skull. Blood and brain gushed, and the body crumpled at the feet of its killer. Aren stood from his kill, a bloody grin on his face.

  An arrow bored through his chest.

  “Aren!” Cain screamed in horror.

  He barely heard his friend’s scream. The pain had returned. He collapsed to his knees, watching Ada approach.

  Cain struggled in the grip of Acedens, beating his fists against the ground and screaming.

  Ada unsheathed his sword, a quiet whish in the night. Aren looked up at the blade with determined eyes.

  “Aren! No!”

  Aren turned to Cain and smiled.

  Ada slit Aren’s throat. He fell back in the grass, blood gurgling from his open neck. His bright eyes gazed up at the night sky, determined and anguished. Lifeless.

  Cain howled. “Aren!” He clenched the dirt, screaming as tears streamed down his face.

  Ada grinned. “So valiant a fighter for so foolish a cause.” He kicked Aren in the side as if to make sure he was properly dead. Satisfied, he stepped over the body and approached Cain.

  “You killed my friend. My brother. You murdered him in cold blood!”

  Ada stopped and nocked another arrow. “And now it’s your turn.”

  Cain thrashed in the grip of the Acedens, screaming for his legs to work. Demanding them to work. Why wouldn’t they move? Why did he have to be so useless! His anger scrambled like a burning tempest in his chest, clawing against his ribs for freedom.

  He managed to wrench himself from his captors. He collapsed to the rocks and began crawling toward Ceerocai, one arm before the other.

  The nearby Acedens made to stop him but Ada threw up a hand. They returned to their ranks and watched Cain’s struggle with amusement. Many of them joked and taunted, mockingly cheering him on.

  He at last reached Ceerocai. He reached up with a trembling hand, but the sword slid from its position against a stone and collapsed to the ground. Ada led a slow clap on his behalf. Cain sank in the grass, panting with exertion.

  Ada approached him, bow loaded with Cain’s death. Cain lay there broken, helpless and alone. Surrounded by hundreds of Acedens, his best friend dead only feet away, and his friends and army dying, he finally buried his head in defeat. He had failed them all.

  Ada kicked him over and forced him to look into his eye. Without a word, the assassin drew back his bowstring.

  Cain looked up at the broadhead with teary eyes. He turned and rolled for Ceerocai.

  A ravaging heat surged through his body as his fingers touched the handle. He yanked the sword from its baldric, his strength returning to him in a wash of power.

  Suddenly, the emptiness inside him burst to embers, replaced with a horrible heat—an overwhelming fire that consumed his mind, his body, his very being. He was swept away by the awesome force, his consciousness ravaged out of existence. A flash of heat ruptured from his body, incinerating the nearby trees.

  He was the fire. He was destruction.

  He was death.

  Cain climbed to a knee and then to his feet. The ground around him shook as he rose. Great pillars of black fire billowed from the earth around him. They waited like coiled vipers, flickering a depthless black. Cain looked to the incinerated wrecks of Acedens and to the fleeing back of the man who murdered his friend.

  The fires lashed out and bound after the distant assassin. The man slipped into the trees, evergreens crumpling behind him like charred twigs. Night veiled the assassin and the flames soon returned to Cain, circling around him like vultures in wait.

  Somewhere in the recesses of Cain’s mind, he wanted to give chase, to make certain the man was dead. His wants were of no consequence. He cared only for the destruction he would bring.

  The forest around him was a charred wreck, only a few rocks spared from the destruction. The blackened earth glowed here and there with an unnatural heat. Only the grass at his feet remained, a small circle of life in the darkness.

  The ashen remains of men swirled around him as he walked. Shadowy fire licked across his skin, soft and warm to the touch like a fine sheet of silk.

  Cain stopped and knelt beside his fallen friend. Protective flames enveloped Aren like a funeral veil and swept away at Cain’s approach. He looked Aren over a final time before shutting his friend’s eyelids. He then stood and faced the port of Ekran, hate burning in his black eyes.

  The fell flames obediently bound forward and rushed across the field, leaving behind the vestiges of the forest. The fires dove into the earth and disappeared for a moment.

  Cain charged through the ashes and raised his sword. The ruby in Ceerocai’s blade shimmered black as obsidian.

  As he reached the buildings, the fires exploded from the ground in a massive quake. Like a tidal wave, they arced over the town a hundred feet high. They crashed into the streets, instantly reducing buildings to cinders.

  The earth ruptured and tossed up its two halves. Buildings shot wildly through the air, ripped from their foundations by the sudden violence. Stone, brick, and timber rained over the town.

  Cain rushed down the main road, dodging debris and buildings as they exploded past. The street rippled and buckled, tossing like an angry sea.

  Great crevices opened all over Ekran, swallowing buildings and streets. Scores of Acedens fell victim to these sudden traps and disappeared into the earth, screaming for their lives as they descended into blackness.

  Dark fires surged from every crack and crevice. They followed Cain through the town, diving in and out of buildings, imploding them in an instant.

  Cain sprinted like a blur through the devastation, passing Acedens left and right as they sought to escape, only to be ensnared in fire. Cain darted up the road as it bucked, launching over the buildings.

  He slammed Ceerocai into the mass of Acedens, sending bodies blasting into the air with a spray of gore. He spun and sent several men flailing. He gored a man’s chest through and kicked off
the body, tossing himself into the air.

  He swung his sword, severing heads as he landed. He continued down the road, black fire dancing. He laid about, dropping men indiscriminately. The viper flames launched at their prey, pulling men to the ground where they vanished into puffs of ash.

  Cain burst from this chaos and came to the main body of Acedens. Over their heads, he could see the Alliance fighting gallantly at the edge of the docks. Precious few remained.

  The Aceden army turned to face him, cowering behind their shields at the sight of so much devastation.

  The fires came. They swelled behind Cain to form a looming wall at his back like four strange wings.

  As their shadow engulfed the enemy army, the earth erupted. In one gut-wrenching explosion, the ground shattered into pieces and the town blasted apart, tossing thousands of bodies into the air.

  Chasms opened, and endless soldiers poured into the deep, wailing in terror. Buildings, trees, and vast chunks of earth tossed through the air as one, grinding men into bloody pulp.

  The inferno then fell upon the slaughter. A tsunami of fire and destruction, it engulfed thousands of horrified and helpless soldiers. Waves of the fell flames shot into the air, catching men still air bound to incinerate them in a flash.

  The Alliance stopped fighting and looked on in terror as this unearthly force annihilated their enemy in seconds.

  Cain bound up the courtyard that now towered like a hill high over the town. He sprinted toward the top and dove off the peak, falling the great distance over the remaining Acedens with Ceerocai overhead and a cry on his lips.

  The earth gave a final shudder and an immense firestorm rolled over the peak after Cain, dropping like lightning from the skies. Divine pillars crashed down on the heads of the Acedens, snatching them from existence. Cain landed in a plume of the midnight fire and the flames blossomed out through the town.

  The firestorm drifted through the Alliance yet passed through them with gentle caresses. The fires slowly dispersed into the night and the ashes of the dead blew away in the breeze.

  The darkness in Ceerocai’s jewel faded and soon the bright red of its ruby returned. The shadow fell from Cain’s eyes.

  Cain looked around to the terrified faces of his friends and fellows. He slowly closed his eyes and dropped his sword. He collapsed to the earth.

  The Rise

  Cain struggled to lift his head from the dirt. He blinked tenderly, his vision blurred by the blood in his eyes. Immense pain racked his body.

  The sky was red. He turned to his side, fearing what he would see. Nothing. He slumped back with a sigh. Gingerly, painfully, he clawed the dirt, trying to pull himself up.

  A raven’s harsh cry sent a chill down his spine. He turned to see the bird on top of him, watching him with its golden eyes. It returned to its meal, his entrails.

  Cain turned to see Ceerocai abandoned in the dirt. He reached out for it, heart racing. He paused, fingers hovering over the handle.

  The entire sword was black, its ruby, its veins, the metal itself all a sickly, shadowy hue. His blood dripped onto the dark soil and dark sword, each drop flashing up in black flames.

  The raven hopped from him and landed on the sword. It flapped its wings and cawed at him. Cain plunged his hand down on the sword, and onyx flames engulfed the sword, the raven, the world.

  Cain shouted out in terror as the Warriors pulled him from the fires and pinned him down. He laid his head back and exhaled. The evening air tickled crisp against his blood-caked skin, the sun warm against his face.

  The oiled black planks of an Aceden ship pressed against his cheek. He then noticed bloodied boots pointing at him. Battered, scratched, and battle worn armor shined brightly over him. Spear tips glistened menacingly down at him. He rose to face them.

  Inveiran and Alliance soldiers encircled him. Men who once spilt the blood of shared enemies now glared at him with the same hate and fear. Why did they look at him like that? Were they Acedens too?

  The Warriors stood over Cain. Both sides were motionless, weapons bristling in the still evening. Cain sat up and the Alliance soldiers rippled forward. The Warriors shot out their weapons and the soldiers backed away.

  “What?” Cain croaked. “What’s going on?” Why did he feel so exhausted? He felt as if he’d just run a marathon in the Meresi desert, barefooted. He watched the fidgeting soldiers and their spears for a moment before glancing at his friends. “Why are they pointing their weapons at us?”

  The Warriors looked to each other nervously.

  Eventually, Isroc spoke. “Cain, they’re scared, and they have every right to be. What was that back there?”

  “What was what?” he asked, perplexed.

  Isroc struggled to hold back a cry. “How do you not know?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Isroc cursed and turned back to the Alliance, his spear gripped in sweaty hands. Silas threw out an arm. “I’ve got this.” He turned to Cain. “You hit your head or something? Fires, explosions, earthquakes, people burning alive. That was some wicked shit, mate. But these people,” he pointed to the hundreds of Alliance soldiers that surrounded them, “they need to know that you’re not going to do that to them.”

  “You killed a lot of men last night,” Isroc growled. “What are you?”

  Cain looked to the soldiers he had once fought beside. He could see the fear in their eyes. In his friends’ eyes.

  He gazed down at his bloodied hands. His arms and legs were solid red. His clothes were drenched wet, already crinkling and cracking as the blood dried. The echo of a terrible, burning anger still seethed in his chest, pulsing with the rhythm of his heart. “What am I?”

  The spears closed in.

  Isroc turned to Adriel. “Let’s get him out of here! Cover Cain and follow Silas, try to make it over the stern.” He clapped Silas’ shoulder. “Silas, protect them and—”

  Silas twirled his weapon as the Alliance pushed toward the Warriors. Adriel shot under Sitare and grabbed Cain.

  No, he wouldn’t let it end like this.

  Cain tore himself from her grip. “There will be no more deaths because of me!” He shoved between his friends. The Alliance shuffled back but managed to keep their weapons up. Cain scooped up Ceerocai and threw it. The mighty weapon clanged across the planks and came to rest at the boots of the soldiers.

  “Do with me what you will. But there will be no more bloodshed.” The Alliance soldiers looked to each other for a moment. A few soon stepped forward with weapons held out. The Warriors scowled at them and brandished their blades.

  Cain shook his head at them. No matter what happened, no matter what his soldiers did to him, he wouldn’t let it end in bloodshed. These were still his men; soldiers he’d led and fought beside. He wouldn’t let his friends hurt them.

  Instead of attacking, his soldiers lowered their weapons and hesitantly pulled Cain from his friends. Whether driven by self-preservation, fear, or simple logic, they bound his arms in rope and escorted him across the deck to the hold’s trapdoor. There, they paused, waiting as a soldier fixed a large lock onto the latch.

  Incongruously, many of the Alliance gave a salute. A clenched hand over the heart for every Kaanosi’s passion and pride. A fist to the sky for every Erias soldier’s hope. Two fists gripped to the chest for every Inveiran’s strength and resolve. An open hand to the chest for Meres’ yearning and fire. The myriad of salutes from nearly every army from every corner of the world joined for this one brief moment.

  The army dispersed and trickled down the gangplanks, walking across the ruins of Ekran.

  The Warriors looked out across the fleet of ships. Few soldiers remained.

  “Where are they going?” Silas asked.

  Adriel shook her head. “They’ve lost their country, their families, their homes… they’ve given up. They’re going to surrender…”

  Isroc turned to the remaining men left on their ship. “You’re coming with us
then?”

  “No, you’re coming with us,” an Eriasan soldier replied. “We’re going home. Don’t think for a moment that we trust you. You just happen to be the only real option we have.” The man nodded to the hatch.

  Isroc raised his messer. Cain shook his head again. He looked to each of his friends and smiled. He then stepped into the shadows of the hold, and the hatch slammed down with a thud.

  Adriel, Isroc, and Silas stood at the stern of the final transport, surrounding the body of their fallen friend. The soldiers aboard the ship encircled them, heads bowed in solemn respect.

  Aren lay proud in a bed of cloths. He bore his saber and armor into an uncertain future. Linens wrapped him neck to toe, covering his death wounds.

  The Warriors looked down at him with red eyes. Silas knelt beside him, and with a sniff, wrapped the cloth around Aren’s face. Isroc and Silas adjusted the stones tied to his dressings. They then lifted him and carried him toward the end of the ship.

  They propped him on the railing and stopped for a moment. Then, with a hesitant push, they dropped him over the edge.

  Aren splashed into the Eraeos. His body sank beneath the surface, leaving only a ripple, and then, nothing.

  The Warriors watched the river for a time, its surface softly lit with the reds and oranges of a dying sun. Isroc shook his head. “We set out to gain an army. We leave with a handful, bury two friends, and now one is in ropes. What have we accomplished here?”

  For once, no one had an answer. They remained silent, simply watching the waves drift past. “I can’t help but shake that something bad is about to happen. Something even worse.” The group turned to him.

  “Iscarius has Inveira. His forces are growing; his power is rising. All of Tarsha is ripe for the taking, and we’re ready to fall.”

  Adriel wiped a teary eye and gazed out over the bloody river. She gripped the railing with determined fists. “No, it’s not over yet. We will fight. We will win. Hope is not dead so long as we have the will to keep fighting.”