The Fallen Kings

by P D Atkerson

  A cold wind tore at Aroron's coat, as he hurried down one of the outer streets.

  Unlike the rest of his men, Aroron didn’t wear the golden armor of Shenock. He didn’t wear any armor at all. Ever since he was a child, he’d learned how to fight without it. Telarian had offered armor to him, but he’d declined it. It would only slow him down.

  He’d just finished a fight with one of the warriors and had barely won. The worst part was, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was attacked. The Zilladiens were everywhere! With a sinking feeling, he knew that it was a hopeless fight.

  The Lower Town had lost, it was time to give the command for a retreat. Aroron was just about to give the cry, when stones crumbled from the wall above his head. Quickly, he jumped back, as they smashed into the ground before him. He looked up again, and his eyes locked with those of another Zilladien warrior.

  With a yell, the warrior leapt from the wall and down towards Aroron. He rolled across the ground and was back on his feet within a second.

  "Well…? If it isn’t another filthy creature to end!" the Zilladien hissed, lunging towards Aroron. “Die, you Shenockien!” Aroron jumped back and out of the warrior’s reach, then he spun on his heels and bolted back down the street.

  After running down several more alleyways, Aroron found a pair of stairs and scrambled up them. He reached the top just as the Zilladien warrior came upon him again, his wicked looking black axe in hand.

  With a quick glance around, Aroron tried to think out a path over the top of the buildings. From up there, the houses, shops and the like, looked like a maze spread out before him. With a quick inhale of breath, he shot across the top of the roof.

  He flipped over the short wall, ducking down on the other roof, as the warrior's axe flew over his head. He twisted back around and blocked the next swing with his sword, shoving the warrior back. Aroron took several steps back and found himself at the edge of the roof, a ten-foot drop down to the street below.

  With more agility than Aroron would have expected from such a big man, the warrior leapt over the wall. With a half laugh, half snarl, he spun the axe around him, eyeing Aroron with dark brown eyes that held no peace.

  He was there to kill Aroron, and it didn’t look like there was much that would stop him.

  “What you waiting for? Come and get me!” Aroron spat, motioning the warrior towards him.

  With a yell, the warrior came at Aroron, his axe swinging. Aroron twisted around and the warrior’s axe missed him and hit the roof below them instead.

  The warrior’s axe smashed through the stone roof and caught there. Cracks shot out from it and turned the roof into a web of groaning and crumbling pieces of stone. They both knew the roof would only hold them for so long.

  At least Aroron didn’t have to worry about any Shenockiens being inside the building. Everyone but the soldiers had been ordered out of their homes and shops, to seek shelter inside the palace’s fortified walls.

  With one last yank, the warrior pulled his axe free, and the ground shifted beneath them. Aroron tried to steady himself, but the Zilladien moved faster.

  The warrior kicked Aroron's legs out from under him and he slammed into the stone ground, when he did, the roof moaned and shifted again. The warrior was upon him, before Aroron even had a chance to get back to his feet.

  With his free hand, he pinned Aroron down and yanked off his mask.

  "Why, you're just a boy!" The warrior scoffed. “What are you doing out here? Playing soldier?” he asked, as he started to laugh.

  This moment reminded Aroron of something Shon had taught him, always take your enemy by surprise. He wasn’t sure this was what he’d meant, but he sure was going to use it anyways.

  "Yes, and you're just an old man!" he said, quickly bringing his legs up, he wrapped them around the warrior's neck. Then he twisted around and brought his weight down, causing them both to fall to the side.

  The second the warrior hit the ground; the whole roof began to crumble under them.

  Aroron sprung to his feet, then he spun around and leapt from the building. He could feel the stone give way, just as he shoved himself off, towards the house next to it. He hit the house’s roof and went rolling across it.

  All Aroron’s senses seemed to be stunned by the sudden fall. His ears rang and his vision blurred, as he tried in vain to recover. Luckily though, he could feel that he still had his sword in his grasp.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Aroron heard a muffled voice say, somewhere nearby. Finally, his eyes flickered open and he sat up, quickly looking around him. Seven more warriors were making their way towards him, ugly grins on their faces.

  Aroron moaned and let himself drop back, as the seven Zilladien warriors encircled him. Why couldn’t he ever get a break? There was no way he could take them all on. He wasn’t even sure if he had the energy to get back to his feet. But everything in him wouldn’t allow him to die like a coward. He would fight with his dying breath.

  “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with!” Aroron spat, glaring at the warriors, as he slowly tightened his grip on his blade. Then with a yell, Aroron rolled over and onto his knees, slashing at the nearest warrior.

  But within a second, the warrior retaliated with his double edge battle-axe. Quickly, Aroron bent back, and the axe brushed against his chest, too close for comfort. He twisted around and whacked the axe away with his blade, but he knew he couldn't hold his position for long. After all, he was way outnumbered.

  Aroron was just preparing for the next attack, when in rapid succession, the seven warrior dropped dead, from the arrows of a master bowman.

  Still kneeling on the ground, gripping his sword, Aroron looked around him at the dead Warriors. What happened? He wondered. He knew he was lucky to be alive. No, it wasn’t luck. Someone had saved his life. But who?

  That’s when Aroron saw the Shenockien Archer standing on the edge of one of the other buildings from him. The young Shenockien leapt from the one house, over to where Aroron lay. He hooked his bow onto his back as he drew nearer to him.

  “Sir, are you alright?” he asked, offering his hand to Aroron.

  “Yeah, thanks to you.” Aroron said, groaning as he took the young archer’s hand and helped him to his feet. “I’d forgotten Shenock has the best archers in the realm. Now, it would seem I owe my life to one.”

  The archer smiled. “I was just doing my job, sir.”

  “You didn’t do a very good job of it.” To Aroron’s shock, one of the warrior’s shoved himself back to his feet, blood dripping out of the wound around the arrow. “You didn’t finish me off.”

  The archer spun around and reached for his bow and arrow. But by now, the young archer’s quiver was empty. Quickly he drew his sword, but even from where Aroron was, he could tell he didn’t really know how to use it. He might be a master bowman, but the art of the sword was obviously lost on him.

  The warrior smashed against the sword, with his own wide blade. The young Shenockien’s sword flew from his hand, leaving him weaponless. The warrior lunged towards him, slamming his sword towards him.

  "No!" Aroron yelled, but it was too late.

  The warrior’s sword pierced the young man in the midsection where his armor didn’t cover him.

  It happened so quickly, there’d been nothing Aroron could do, until it was too late.

  The Shenockien gasped for breath, clutching his side, then crumpled to the ground. Aroron leapt to his feet and lunged forwards, bringing his sword to bear upon the warrior. Burning with anger, Aroron quickly ended him, then he dropped down next to the archer.

  “Go…” the archer whispered, gasping for breath. “You… must, go.”

  "I'm not leaving you!" Aroron said, grabbing the Shenockien’s hand. “I won’t leave you here alone.”

  "You have to! It's too late for me." The soldier whispered. “You need to go, before it’s too late for you.”

  “Isn’t there something I can do for you?” he asked.
“You’ve saved my life twice, my friend.”

  “Please, call me Ralenty. I can see that the Creator has great plans for you, sir.” He said, gripping Aroron’s hand tighter, as pain filled his face. “It was an honor to die for that cause, I just wish I could have seen it unfold.”

  “It should not be an honor to die for me.” Aroron said. “I’m no one important.”

  “You undervalue your life, Aroron.” Ralenty whispered, the color draining from his face. “Every life the Creator makes, has value. He has a plan for you, and it is a great one.”

  “Your actions today will not be forgotten; I promise you that. I will never forget this day.” Aroron whispered. “May the Creator bless you for this in the afterlife, Ralenty.”

  “Go…” Ralenty whispered one last time, smiling as his body went limp.

  Aroron closed his eyes and grimaced. He should have been the one to die, not this young man. He thought of him as young, even though if he’d really thought about it, he would have realized Ralenty was several years his elder.

  Shoving himself to his feet, Aroron took the Shenockien’s cloak and covered his body with it. He wished there was more he could do for the man who’d saved his life. But all he could hope for, was that the body would still be there when the battle ended, and he could be properly buried.

  Moving to the edge of the roof, Aroron sheathed his sword, then he grabbed onto the side of the wall and swung himself to the street below. He took a deep breath, then dashed forwards and back towards the heat of battle.

  He was nearly to the edge of the city again, when he looked back, just in time to spot a row of Zilladiens lining the outer wall beside him. Before he could even figure out how’d they’d gotten up there, he realized what they were. They were archers. In that instant, Aroron dropped to the ground.

  A second later, the air was filled with flying arrows.

  He rolled over and back onto his knees, then he made a dash for the nearest wall, as more arrows rained down on him. Aroron’s heart thudded, as he glanced around and started edging his way across the wall and away from the archers.

  He hadn’t gone far, when he heard warriors yelling and clanking around in their metal armor. But as far as he could tell, they weren’t fighting.

  Dropping to his stomach, he crawled forwards and found himself looking down at the empty land, where a river should have been flowing.

  Somehow, they’d blocked up the water supply to the Lower Town and were now using the empty riverbanks to enter the city. Warriors streamed in, faster than the water ever had. There were too many of them for Aroron to even count.

  It was hopeless, there was no way they could take the Lower Town back, it was now the Zilladiens’. He needed to warn his men, before it was too late and they were all trapped there, with those nasty people.

  He scooted back, then jumped to his feet and shot down one of the alleyways, where a bridge above the street connected two of the buildings. Aroron grabbed onto the archway and pulled himself up onto the top of the bridge. Once he was on top of it, he turned and bolted towards where the remainder of his men should still be.

  As he ran, he prayed he’d still find most of them alive there.

  When Aroron came to the end of the path he’d taken, it dropped away, he could see the whole of the marketplace. Which, right then, wasn’t filled with merchants, but instead, filled with warriors and Shenockien soldiers fighting for their lives.

  “Thank the Creator.” Aroron whispered, when he saw that most of his men still stood strong. Some had fallen, but that was to be expected. Quickly, he turned to the side and hurried down the stairs, leading to the market.

  Once he reached ground level, he quickly drew his sword and ran forwards, into the thick of things.

  “Retreat!” he yelled to his men, fighting his way through the pairs of soldiers and warriors. Where he could, Aroron helped his men end the warriors. “Back towards the Palace. Now! That’s an order!” He told them, before going to the next fight.

  If someone had watched him at that time, they wouldn’t have believed that he was only fifteen. He fought with more skill than someone twice his age and he commanded like one too.

  Every now and then, one of the Shenockiens would break free and dash back towards the Palace. One by one, they made their escape. With each one, Aroron sent up another ‘thanks’.

  Most of his men were gone, by the time Aroron came upon one of the soldiers, who just wouldn’t leave. “Not till the last man’s gone, will I go.” He told Aroron.

  Aroron shook his head at him, as he tried to keep himself from getting angry. The soldier didn’t know what they were up against.

  “The Zilladiens have completely broken through the outer wall. There’s hundreds of them coming.” Aroron said, blocking another warrior’s attack. “We won’t be able to hold them off. I will not have any more blood on my hands. Go!” he ordered, helping the knight to finish off his opponent. “I will not have you die under my command!”

  The soldier hesitated, then he nodded. “Yes, sir.” With that, he spun on his heels and made a run for the nearest street.

  Soon, Aroron found himself with only a few soldiers fighting against the oncoming warriors. By the time he was alone, only one warrior still stood, the rest were either dead, or badly wounded. His help seemed to have turned the tide, but only for the moment.

  Hundreds more warriors were on their way.

  Once everyone else was gone, Aroron made his own retreat. When he stepped out of the marketplace, he looked behind him. The Lower Town is lost. He knew that without a doubt. By now, hundreds of warriors were streaming into the street and running straight towards him.

  He needed to get out of there.

  Aroron shot forwards and towards the nearest gate that represented the Palace’s outer strongholds.

  “Get ready to close the gate!” He yelled, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He knew without looking behind him, that the warriors were gaining on him. If he didn’t make it inside the gates soon, they’d have to close them without him.

  He pushed himself harder, and soon he was only a few yards away from the gate. With one last yell, he leapt forwards and slid across the ground and under the gateway. Aroron was barely through it, when the gate slammed shut behind him and the metal doors slid closed.

  * * *

  Dasety moved quietly towards Munay's cell.

  Unlike the one Enrick had been placed in, this cell wasn't underground, but was more like a normal castle cell. Compared to those death holes, this cell was filled with comfort. Why Enrick was showing his father such kindness, Dasety didn’t understand. But he didn't really care either.

  Kicking the cell door, Dasety pulled his hood down and looked in at Munay. “Are you awake now, my lord?” he asked.

  Munay groaned, sitting up. “What do you want, you backstabbing Draven?!” he spat, turning towards him. “Have you come to finish me off? Or does Enrick wish for you to torment me now, with your dull speech?”

  “Now, why would I do that?” Dasety asked. “As for what I’ve done, I've only done what I needed to do to awaken you from your lazy state. You’d grown stale in your conquest and if Enrick hadn't taken the crown from you, you never would have done anything else.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  Dasety moved a little closer to the cell bars. “Let’s just say, Enrick and I will be gone for several days.” He whispered. “During that time, someone else might come to see you. Be ready for them, they will help you out of the Dark Castle.”

  "Why would you betray Enrick?" Munay asked, eyeing him.

  Dasety laughed. "My reasons are my own, just be grateful for it." Before Munay could say anything else, Dasety spun on his heels and hurried out of the dungeon.

  The wheels of the Second Great War were all falling into place. The fools! Neither Munay nor Enrick knew they were only pawns in a greater game.

  * * *

  Chapter 24

  Messages


  Because of everything that had happened, Aroron and his men found themselves barricaded inside the Palace. After a few days of feeling like a caged animal, King Telarian called the council together again.

  Telarian wasn’t happy.

  “Now that we’ve lost the Lower Town, things are different.” King Telarian said, gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He took in a deep breath, before continuing. “We need to come up with a plan to push them back and recover the Lower Town.

  “Well, if only someone had held them off a little longer.” One of the nobles mumbled, under his breath. “Then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

  Aroron couldn’t believe the nerve of the man! How could he say anything? He hadn’t been out there with them!

  “My men and I did the best we could! There were hundreds of them, and only eighty of us.” Aroron said, glaring at the noble. “Not all of us get to stay in the safety of the Palace. Maybe if some of you decided to fight…”

  The noble’s face turned bright red, as he glared back at Aroron. “How dare you!” he spat. “I was doing as much to fight these foul people out of our kingdom, as you. You would think you being an Oddity, you could have held them off.”

  “You want me to show you my gift?” Aroron asked, and the noble flinched back. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Enough!” Telarian yelled. “You’re both acting like little children. I need men to help me, do you understand? Yes, you both contributed to the cause in different ways. Aroron, you held the Lower Town for a long time, against great odds. And you, Lord Henry, without your help, we wouldn’t have been able to save the citizens of Shey. See? You’ve both been very helpful, in your own ways.” King Telarian said, letting out a long sigh. “Now, please, can we get back to planning what to do next?”

  Aroron and Lord Henry nodded in agreement, neither looking at each other. Aroron might act civil towards him, but he knew he wasn’t going to like the man.