Soldiers of Avarice

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “Don’t say to me that you’ll come back when it’s all over and settle in to build wagons with your old man, because it’s not going to happen. You’ve chosen your path, for better or worse, and there’s nothing that can be done about it now.”

  Aiden was silent as his father’s focus returned to his work, unable to form the words he wanted to explain himself, because he knew they wouldn’t be enough. He hadn’t given a lot of thought to the killing he’d done, probably because there was so much going on in his life at the time, but also because he thought self-defense justified it.

  They were bad men, and that made it okay? Somehow it didn’t seem enough, especially in the face of his father’s story. There was nothing more to say, so Aiden turned and trudged out into the swirling snow, head hanging low as he made for the inn. It might have been the house he grew up in, but it was no longer home.

  * * *

  The inn was less than a hundred yards away, a small fact Aiden remembered from his youth. He even recalled counting out the steps at one point to win a wager with Pacian, though the exact number escaped him now. As he approached it, however, he heard the sounds of distant voices, raised in argument, both of them quite familiar. Groaning inwardly, he changed direction and headed over to the western end of town, walking faster.

  The sounds grew louder as he approached the Savidge household, an old timber-workers cottage that had seen better days. Half a dozen locals were peering out of their windows nearby, trying to find out more of what was going on. The shouted words were alarmingly loud, and punctuated by the sounds of smashing crockery. Although Aiden could hear most of them, he wished he didn’t.

  “You worthless brat, running off and leaving me here to wither,” Pacian’s father spat. “You killed your mother, and now you’re trying to do the same to me as well!”

  Aiden stopped outside the front door, wondering whether it was safe to open. The words being hurled back and forth like weapons were harsh and not unfamiliar. Pacian’s father had never forgiven his son for the death of his wife, and the resentment brewing within the man often exploded into a terrible display of the less appealing aspects of human nature.

  Pace had taken a good deal of abuse over the years, probably out of a sense of guilt, but tonight, he was dishing out as good as he was getting, and it was making the whole situation worse. “Do you want me to show you how to throw plates? ’Cause you’re terrible at it, you drunken bastard!” Pacian taunted, loud enough to be heard through the thick wooden door.

  The sound of a plate smashing into the door itself led Aiden to the conclusion that leaving it closed for the time being was a prudent course of action. “You shouldn’t have come back here, you wretch,” his father swore. “You’re nothing but trouble, and you’ll bring a curse down on this town!”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Pacian assured him. “I only wanted to drop in and say hello before you drink yourself to death.”

  Pace burst through the door and slammed it behind him. A small crowd of people had gathered around to find out what all the commotion was. Nellise emerged from the crowd and beckoned Pacian to her side, where they talked in whispers for a time.

  Aiden didn’t feel the need to eavesdrop, so he decided to head over to the inn and drown his sorrows, and speak with his friend about this eventful evening later. The Sleeping Bear was a creatively-titled inn that mostly catered to merchants and the occasional passing traveller; however, the roads had been practically deserted of late, leaving most of the rooms vacant. The fire in the hearth burned brightly and the food was good, which proved to be of some small comfort to Aiden as he headed inside for the evening.

  Perhaps an hour later, after Aiden had morosely eaten half a roast chicken, Pacian slumped down in the chair next to him. The two friends exchanged a tired glance, saying nothing, for they didn’t need to speak to convey what they were feeling at that moment. They were both emotionally exhausted and needed nothing more than quiet company for the evening.

  Nellise joined them at the fireplace a little while later, sitting next to Pacian in silence, while Sayana came over to sit on Aiden’s lap, something that managed to distract him from his troubles quite effectively.

  “I see you two have become quite friendly,” Nellise remarked softly, a faint smile on her lips.

  “Yes, it came as something of a surprise to me,” Aiden replied, with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “Do Akoran women act like this in public? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  “I don’t know; I was very young when I left. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so I’m doing what I want tonight. If anyone’s offended, that’s not my problem. But you’re all acting strangely tonight for some reason,” Sayana remarked, causing a number of exchanged glances to be passed around.

  “Sy has many fine qualities,” Aiden drawled a moment later, “but I think it’s her non sequiturs that I find really attractive.”

  “Both of these young gentlemen have family issues,” Nellise said in reply to Sayana’s question.

  “Yes, if it wasn’t for Nel’s advice,” Pacian added accusingly, “we would have had a quiet evening by the fireplace instead of horrible confrontations with certain people.”

  “I stand by what I said,” Nellise responded, looking at each of them. “Yet it appears I have underestimated how deep the problems are, and it will take more than a night of talking to overcome them.”

  “Maybe, but I’m never going to speak to my old man again after tonight, so I don’t see the problem being fixed, ever,” Pacian said bitterly.

  “Never is a long time, Pace,” Nellise counseled. “See how you feel in a few years, okay?”

  “You’re lucky to have parents at all,” Sayana pointedly remarked in a soft voice. “Treasure them while you can.”

  Aiden suddenly felt awful and exchanged a pained glance with Pacian, who groaned as he stood up and stretched. “I’m so done with this,” he grumbled. “Tomorrow isn’t going to be any easier, so I’m going to bed. I’ll see you all out front, first thing.”

  Aiden mumbled a quick goodnight as Pacian turned and sauntered off towards his room. “That was a powerful insight, Sy,” Nellise remarked as Pacian left the common room.

  “Truth often is,” she answered wistfully. Sayana then stood up and took Aiden by the hand, easing him out of the chair and slowly leading him towards their own room.

  “I guess we’re off to bed as well,” Aiden remarked, looking back over his shoulder to see Nellise, who seemed to be blushing as they walked away.

  Despite her apparent eagerness, Sayana had something else in mind when they climbed into bed that evening. Sensing Aiden’s dour mood, she offered nothing more than her company for the night, and he offered her the same, giving her the comfort she silently sought.

  Lying there in her arms, his mind dwelt on the events of the day for some time before he became sleepy. The last thing he remembered thinking was that if the dragon appeared in his dreams that night, he was going to give it a swift kick in the head before it ate him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was a typical winter’s morning in Coldstream when the five of them met outside: a strong wind assailed them from the southwest, and there was a thick layer of snow upon the ground. It was just before sunrise, with the sky only beginning to lighten, and everyone who didn’t need to be up and about was sensibly still in bed.

  Their breath misted heavily in the frigid conditions, and Aiden smacked his gloved hands together, trying to generate some warmth. The heavy white winter cloaks they wore protected them from the worst of the bitter wind, but the real test would come when they moved out of the foothills and over the High Plains, a large expanse of empty land in the southern region of the kingdom that gradually became the Highmarch Mountains.

  Colt seemed remarkably alert, considering the early start, eyeing Pacian and Aiden suspiciously as they checked their gear one last time.

  “I hear tell from the innkeeper that something happened
in town last night,” he remarked to nobody in particular. “Bit of a local disturbance, as it were, lots of shouting and such. I don’t suppose either of you two heard about it?”

  Aiden shook his head after a moment of fake thought, and Pacian merely shrugged. “I spoke with a drunken man in town last night,” Nellise casually mentioned. “He had been creating quite a scene, as it happens, so perhaps that’s what the innkeeper meant?”

  Colt looked her straight in the eye for a long moment, as if trying to determine if she was lying or not. “Yeah, that was probably it,” he grunted, hefting his greatsword over his shoulder.

  Aiden caught her eye for a moment and noticed a quick wink in his direction. He had to give credit where it was due, for Nellise hadn’t actually lied about anything she’d said, and he silently thanked her for it.

  “All right, let’s move out,” Colt ordered. “We’re supposed to meet up with Duncan and his group ten miles or so upstream, and he’ll lead us into enemy territory from there. Sally is relaying word on their patrol movements and fortifications to him, so we’ll have everything we need moving forward. When it comes time to do the job, Duncan and I will head in and take care of this. You lot only need to keep the door open for us, okay?

  “I know that’s putting a lot on your shoulders, Sayana,” he added, “but that’s the truth of the situation. If at any time you don’t think you can help us get in there and take this bastard out, you let us know. We won’t think any less of you for it, you understand me?”

  “I’m not defenseless,” she assured him. “If it comes to it, I’ll light the place on fire.”

  “Excellent,” Colt grunted as he turned and started trudging up the road, the snow crunching underfoot as the rest of them fell into line behind him. The two miserably cold militiamen still on duty at the south gate gave them a terse farewell and returned to their vigil.

  Just outside of town, they crossed the bridge over the river Coldstream, which was iced over at this time of year. There was no trail visible beyond this point, for there had been almost no trade between the Akoran tribal people and the town of Coldstream for months. Even before they closed their borders, the mountain folk hadn’t been known for their open, sociable nature.

  Aiden had met several Akorans in his life and found them to be a hard, uncompromising people, accustomed to living in a place where life was short and brutal. His thoughts wandered to historical matters for an hour or so, but after stepping on a branch and causing Colt to whirl around, he decided to focus more on his surroundings.

  The terrain was gradually ascending as they traveled, and signs of life such as trees, bushes and animals slowly disappeared into the thickening mist blanketing the landscape. Presently, a huge, dead tree loomed out of the fog. Its branches clawed at the sky, an ominous omen if ever there was one, watching over the land like an ancient guardian.

  Colt signaled for them to stop beneath its empty boughs, then pursed his lips and whistled a lyrical bird call. They crouched in silence, expecting an answer from beyond the misty veil, yet there was only silence.

  “This is where we were told to meet Duncan,” he whispered, glancing around cautiously. “He should have seen us coming and contacted us by now.”

  “You sure you haven’t been sipping a little of your, ahem, holy water?” Pacian asked spitefully.

  “Remind me to punch you in the face when we get out of here,” Colt whispered ominously.

  “I’ll make a note of it in my journal,” Pacian quietly replied, with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “‘Dear diary, when we get back to town, Colt wants to express his manly affections for me through violence.’”

  “Enough,” Aiden muttered, in no mood for their usual repartee. “Do we wait here, or find our own way forward?”

  Everyone looked to Colt for an answer, but had to wait while the big ranger looked around for signs of any tracks, or indeed any indication that something unpleasant might have befallen Duncan.

  “Something’s not right,” he muttered, glancing around in consternation. Aiden mimicked him, suddenly finding the cold, misty air oppressive. Their visibility was counted in yards, and anything could be hiding out there.

  Colt drew his bow. A moment later, an arrow whistled past him to thud into the trunk of the dead tree.

  “Ambush!” he roared, nocking an arrow and kneeling in the snow to aim at something nobody could see. They drew their weapons as more arrows flew past, and Aiden’s heart raced as no less than a dozen hulking silhouettes appeared from the mists around them, weapons ready, the roar of their battle cries echoing across the frigid landscape.

  Colt loosed his arrow into their ranks before the charging Akorans closed the distance. Aiden spoke the command word to summon his force shield, and as it shimmered into existence, his mind analyzed the situation, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He didn’t have time to think about it, however, as three warriors bore down on him with spears poised to strike.

  Sayana let out a stifled scream and reflexively huddled towards the centre of the group, summoning a sheath of ghostly armor to protect herself. When the oncoming warriors saw this, one of them called “witch!”, doubling Sayana’s fear in an instant.

  Pacian threw a pair of knives at one large figure, striking true yet barely slowing the man’s advance. Nellise whispered a prayer and began glowing with a nimbus of white light as she cranked out bolts from her crossbow. Shooting at close-quarters targets was precisely what it was designed to do, and she struck down one after another in quick succession.

  Colt threw aside his longbow and drew his greatsword as the front line of Akorans closed in, managing to take a swing at his nearest enemy. After their furious charge, the Akorans began working together to defend their flanks and take advantage of any mistakes. They closed in around the group, preventing any escape. Aiden was fighting on a purely defensive level as the relentless attack pushed him back towards Colt’s position.

  Colt swung his blade back and forth with all his strength, striking down first one warrior, then another, but they were replaced as quickly as they fell, showing no fear at the sight of their fallen comrades.

  Nellise was eventually forced to discard the crossbow and whirled her quarterstaff around, keeping the enemy at bay as best she could. Their situation was looking worse with every passing moment, but it could be turned around in a heartbeat if they could break out of the circle of surrounding warriors.

  It was at that moment that Sayana finally overcame her fear. She screamed the same war cry the Akorans had used and threw her shining vythiric axe at the largest of their foes, almost splitting the man in half. Drawing the weapon back to her hand with sorcery, she took her place in the defensive circle to hold back the rest.

  Holding the axe in her left hand, she conjured flames from her extended right, enveloping the nearby warriors in fire. Sayana’s flames abruptly died, almost as soon as they’d begun, however, at the shouted words of a venerable man wearing a black bearskin robe, who stood beyond the ring of warriors. In one hand, he held a staff etched with many runes and sigils that glowed with an eldritch light.

  “A shaman,” Sayana breathed, fear evident in her voice.

  Although he appreciated her respect for the newcomer, Aiden had a different reaction to the scene before him. He realized the futility of their situation, and understood there was no escape from the ambush.

  Nellise’s quarterstaff whirled and hit with precision, breaking limbs until she was struck with the butt of an axe and dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  The last thing Aiden remembered was Sayana looking at him in despair, right before a thrown axe hurtled into his field of view to strike him right between the eyes. Then everything went black.

  * * *

  The darkness was replaced with the near-blinding light of midday, causing Aiden to squint against the sudden brilliance. His boots crunched over snow as he took a few tentative steps, looking down upon a scene from his worst nightmares.

  He stood am
idst a battle between armored men wearing the gold dragon tabard of the kingdom and others clad in hooded robes, with signs of steel armor hidden underneath their garb. The fallen from both sides of the battle littered the landscape, and the ringing of steel and the cries of the combatants were deafening.

  One of the kingdom soldiers suddenly bumped into him, giving him a dirty look as he yelled in Aiden’s face to get back on the line or be tried for cowardice. Aiden looked down at his body and saw he was wearing the armor and uniform of an Aielund soldier. His mind raced, trying to remember how he had come to be in the middle of this fight.

  Aiden knew what was coming, but he didn’t know how he knew, and he staggered around as if in a dream. The ground began to shake, the vibrations growing in intensity until the head of an armor creature appeared over the rise, revealing more of its body as it closed the distance. He knew what was coming.

  It was easily over twelve feet in height, with shoulders eight feet across, and was completely encased in ornate armor. More followed, marching across the snow-covered land.

  “You can’t win this!” Aiden shouted, knowing the outcome of this fight. “Run, for the love of God, run!”

  If the soldiers heard him, they paid him no heed.

  Aiden watched the ongoing battle, but knew it was a futile effort — the outcome was inevitable. After long minutes of bloodshed, the black warrior stood alone against the last of the bizarre metal monsters.

  This one was different from the others, though — shorter by several feet and wielding a huge sword in one hand, the edge of the blade rippling with light.

  The two came together in a savage dance. Aiden remembered where he had seen this — and he was right, it was a dream, yet he couldn’t understand why it felt so real.

  A shadow grew over the battlefield as something immense obscured the sun. An enormous gold dragon was descending onto the battlefield, the breadth of its wings surpassing a hundred feet.