A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  By the time they reached the blockade the salvo of javelins and arrows was beginning to falter as the defenders began to lose nerve.

  “Strike!” Markos’ voice sounded like a thunder clap and with a deafening cry the shield-men stepped sideways while the lancers lunged, their own battle roar almost drowned out by the screams of men impaled by the gold-tipped spears when their armour shattered. The wall of shields crashed shut as a volley of arrows whistled into the air opening once more to allow the lancers to strike and repost.

  Markos turned to me drawing his sword. “T’pahq?”

  I turned to Dthor. “You know what must be done, Lord Consort?”

  “I will see to it.” He turned to Jae’nt. “You and the Kyr Garrin are with me. Markos, guard my heart well for if he is in any way damaged . . .”

  The prince smiled. “You need have no fear for Meriq’s safety while he is with me and mine—Goldie.”

  “Be sure to make it so, Barbarian.” Dthor rejoined.

  As Dthor and the Kyr-Garrin broke ranks and ran off towards the breach the remaining cohort of Morlans formed a phalanx locking shields so that we were completely enclosed in a dome of metal as we moved towards our vanguard.

  On Markos’ command the vanguard broke rank and reformed almost at once, holding their shields over their backs to form a solid ramp while lancers lay flat holding their spears angled between the chinks to prevent the enemy from charging down the inclined aspides.

  With a roar the phalanx broke open and rushed forward, the men leaping high as they reached the top of the ramp using their aspides to protect them as they plummeted into the ranks of the startled legionnaires.

  With their scimitars shattering on the Morlans’ shields and their armour disintegrating under the plated gladii of their assailants the Black legionnaires began to panic pressing back from the advancing Morlans and impaling themselves of the crystal swords of the men behind them. But even given the wavering nerve of the men before them, the remaining legionnaires, it seemed, were of sterner stuff and were determined not to yield even the width of one cobblestone to us. The Morlans were more determined that they would take the tower and fought with such ferocity that ultimately the black-clad soldiers fell under the sheer weight and ferocity of the Morlan onslaught.

  With the defending ranks breached Markos, Thaze, Karyn, Kylos, Aenar and I broke into the central tower and began the long climb to the battlements enclosed in a protective wall of hoplites who secured each landing as we reached it. Inside the tower the stairwell was deserted and the way up was clear; a fact for which I thanked Zoar profusely since we were running out of time and fighting our way up the stairs would have seriously hampered us—and we were already running out of time. Now, with the stairwell guarded by Markos’ Elite Guard I knew that even if the legion’s strategists made a play to re-take the tower they would be hard put to battle past the five Morlans Markos had placed on each landing and even if they breached the line each landing they might gain would cost the legion dearly.

  And so we climbed as quickly as the steep winding stairs would allow and pacing ourselves carefully so that we would still have breath and strength to fight should the need arise.

  From Orrin’s reconnaissance of the tower in his foray into the city I had concluded that the best place to cast from would be the terrace below the spire. It was close enough to allow me to cast for the fog with minimum effort and the area could be defended effectively should our stair guards be overrun. I was quietly confident that even if we should fall we would have bought the Kings enough time to gain an effective foothold in the city bounds and that, regardless of our fate, Illios would be taken. Once inside the city or at least under the shelter of the curtain walls the men would be safe from the burning beam of The Eye for it could not be trained on anything within the city.

  When we reached the main tier I ordered Markos and Aenar to continue the climb to the spire instructing them to kill anyone they met there without hesitation to prevent activation of the mirror if I and my companions failed in our part.

  “And if the wizards are there?” Aenar asked

  “Use your throwing axe or a spear,” I answered, “Do not give them time to move.”

  “And if they have skill like yours?” Markos said as he checked the cinch on his sword belt.”

  “They do not,” I answered. “No-one else does. Each skill is unique to the wizard who wields it.”

  It transpired that Markos need not have been concerned for it seemed that I had not been alone in my thought that a good place to work from was the first parapet. As we burst out on to the wide walkway we were confronted by Kaseem, Pendar and a group of ten legionnaires. Half I despatched with a wave of fire and a burst of thought energy shattered the skulls of two others. The remainder fell to Kylos’ arrows and a well executed throw by Thaze.

  Looking briefly at the fallen men Kaseem raised his hand. “Kill me little dragon and your mentor’s brother will die in the same instant.”

  Kylos levelled his bow.

  A bolt of lightning flashed from Pendar’s stave striking the flagstones in front of him knocking the young archer off his feet, but even as he fell he launched a dart with deadly speed taking Pendar in the shoulder with such force that it knocked the old man to the ground. Karyn sprang forward slamming into the sorcerer Kasseem and pinning him against the wall with her scutum. Thaze dragged his lancet from the fallen man and jammed the short spear against the man’s throat just breaking the skin. He raised his arm sliding the spearhead down into the soft cleft above the mage’s collar bones.

  The magician sucked in a sharp breath as the soft flesh of his neck opened spilling bright red blood down the front of his elaborate white and gold robes.

  “If you even blink in a way I don’t like, magus, I will spit you like a suckling pig.” Thaze growled.

  Kylos climbed to feet, grabbed up his bow and took aim at Pendar. “And brother to my lord’s mentor or not make any move or sound and I will skewer you to the stones.”

  “You need have no fear of me, Kylos,” the old man answered, “for while Kaseem is held thus I am my own man again.”

  Kylos drew back on his bow leaning so close to the fallen wizard that the poisoned arrow tip was almost touching his chest. “Do not presume to call me by name,” the young man hissed. “I told you not to speak. One more sound from you will be your last.” The young archer straightened up keeping his arrow trained on the wizard.

  “Your way is clear, t’pahq.”

  As the first rays of the sun touched The Eye the burning beam flared to life and even as it struck the trailing ranks of the allied soldiers the crystal in my stave sent a shaft of light into the sky and within moments the spire and tower were swathed in a thick cloak of mist. The burning beam flickered, faltered and went out.

  Scarcely had the light been extinguished than there came sounds of fighting from the spire there was a sudden, panicked shriek and moments later a legionnaire plummeted through the fog and landed in the crenel striking the low merlon with such force that his spine broke with a wrenching crack. The man lay for a moment twitching as blood bubbled and frothed from his mouth. Scarcely had the life left the man when another struck the flagstones just behind Kylos, closely followed by a third and then a fourth both of which narrowly missed Karyn and then a fifth who landed so close to me that I felt the rush of the air and the sting of his flapping cloak on my forearm.

  “You pig-slything sons-of-street-slit,” Karyn yelled, “Stop throwing soldiers at us!”

  A shadowy figure leaned through the parapet of the spire. “Do you kiss your little boy-soldier with that mouth?” Markos shouted back, heaving a dead legionnaire off the tower just for good measure and laughing as Karyn let fly with what I assumed was the foulest Morlan ever to have rent the air. “Is that any way for a shield-maiden to speak to her future king?” Markos bellowed, laughing. “Thaze—you make sure she rinses that mouth of hers with plenty of wine before you sheathe in it!” Markos
leaned dangerously out through the crenel and shouted again. “Ez’n-Kyr, could you send up more Legionnaires we’ve broken all the ones that were up here!”

  “There will be plenty of others, Prince Markos,” I called back. “Turn the mirror skywards and destroy the focusing mechanism. Then come back down here, we still have work to do.” I turned to Karyn and Thaze pointing at their captive. “Tie his hands at the wrists, bind his palms together then break his fingers and gag him,” I said and leaning close to Kaseem I added. “I will not kill you, until I have discovered how to free Pendar from your thrall.”

  The mage smirked at me. “All you have to do is remove the collar, but tamper with it and it will cut his head off. I wish you good fortune in your endeavour.” He said struggling slightly as Thaze shoved a ball of the man’s own cloak in his mouth and secured it with a length of cord from Karyn’s girdle.

  “What of this one, t’pahq?” Kylos asked.

  I turned to face the old man. “Are you a threat to my king or my men?” I asked coolly.

  “I am not, Ez’n-Kyr Meriq—not while Kaseem is thus bound. That will change if he breaks free. But in truth, little dragon, you should be more concerned with locating Kaseem’s accomplice Caerlon.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because he has the control rod for the swords. Destroy his stave and you will break the power of the swords and the armour.”

  I turned to Karyn and Thaze. “Remain here and guard this pair. If either makes a move or sound you do not trust despatch them without hesitation.”

  The couple saluted as Kylos and I withdrew to regroup with Aenar, Markos and the Elite Guard down in the main square. With the Eye properly disabled I detailed a cohort of men to guard the tower and ensure no-one managed to gain access to repair the device. Calling the remaining men to rank I led them towards the city keep, leaving the tower guards blocking off the access to the tower using the remnants of the legionnaires’ own barricade.

  With The Eye thus secured we set off in search of our comrades through the clouds of choking acrid smoke and the stench of searing flesh that permeated the city streets and hung in the air like a pall.

  I calculated that the remainder of the Kyr-Garrin could not be too far ahead of us, the sounds of battle were loud and the clash of weapons was clearly audible and so, with a quick check on the men we were leaving behind Markos and I led the cohort towards the sounds of the fighting.

  †

  CHAPTER 29

  THE DARK PACT INVOKED

  IT TOOK the allied forces over ten days of bitter fighting to subdue the black legion and liberate the city. Deprived of their most powerful weapon and with their magicians imprisoned the Legionnaires resorted to guerrilla tactics. The city’s elaborate sewer system offered effective shelter to the remnants of the Black Army and they used the maze of tunnels to excellent effect when striking out at our patrols before retreating into them and vanishing into the dark, dank labyrinthine passages.

  Finally exasperated by the constant sniping, Janir ordered the river exit to be blocked so that the floe, swollen by the spring thaw in the mountains, backed up into the city and finally spilled over the retaining wall flooding the streets. With only the street drains to escape through it was only a matter of time before the sewers and storm drains were filled and the water flushed the soldiers out of the system.

  The last day of the Illojan liberation saw the most bitter and ferocious fighting. Desperate men are always those who fight the hardest, and despite the enmity felt by the allied forces still the men sang tributes to the courage of both the allied and enemy dead as they prepared the pyres and set about turning one of the city’s barracks into a field hospital.

  I set up a laboratory in one of the apothecaries so that we could produce the healing powder for crystal wounds and I had just finished the first batch when there was a terrible commotion outside.

  Jae’nt burst through the door, his cuirass had been slashed almost to nothing and his cloak was little more than rags. He was followed moments later by Markos, Maegor and Faedron and then by Aenar and Kylos carrying . . .

  “Dthor!” My consort’s name nearly stuck in my throat.

  His armour was still fully intact, yet his chest and arms were latticed with weeping black slashes together with more conventional wounds. Karyn appeared like a genie out of a bottle followed almost immediately by two other healers. She put her hand over mine as I unfastened Dthor’s breastplate and tunic and set to cleaning his wounds.

  “Ez’n, let me—it is better that you stand back. This is work for skilled hands, not a loving heart.”

  As I moved away Dthor seized my hand and pulled me to his side, his strength greatly magnified by the pain I knew he must be experiencing. “Do not fret, my love. It will not be this day.” He said and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Maegor took my arm and led me away almost dragging me outside as I resisted and he and Aenar practically frog-marched me to a nearby tavern.

  I stared into the tankard Faedron had shoved into my hand scarcely seeing the crimson porter, and when I did focus on it all I could see was Dthor’s blood. Jae’nt sat heavily beside me taking hold of my wrist as I went to drink.

  “Perhaps you could explain something to me Ez’n,” he said, his tone nothing short of fear-filled anger.

  “Now is not the time,” Maegor said stonily.

  I set the tankard down and met Jae’nt’s gaze squarely.

  “Can you explain to me why when I am cut another man bleeds in my stead?”

  Maegor rose slightly, leaning towards the prince. “I said now is not the time, boy.”

  Jae’nt inclined his head towards the sergeant in a movement so like his father’s that I almost smiled. “I am not deaf, sergeant. And do not address me as “boy”. I am Zetaria’s Prince Royal, do not forget it.” He turned his gaze back to me. “Well?”

  “Yes I am, Prince Jae’nt, very well, thank you.”

  “Don’t be pert, Meriq. Not with Dthor lying yonder bleeding from my wounds.” Jae’nt said seriously. “Can you explain this to me or not?”

  I regarded the prince stoically. “Can I explain it? Yes I can. Will I explain it? No. I will not. Not yet and not here.”

  “Well then where and when?” the prince persisted.

  “Where it is safe and when it is time.” I answered. I put up my hand. “Do not press me further, Jae’nt. Prince Royal you may be, but I am still The Crown.”

  “You are pulling rank on me?” Jae’nt sounded outraged, “You have seen the state of your consort have you not?”

  “Indeed I have, as well you know” I answered, “and at the risk of sounding school-child, you started the rank-pulling with Maegor. I merely played a card from your deck, and I outrank you. If you do not like the rules of a game do not play it.”

  Whatever Jae’nt might have said in response was silenced as Karyn appeared in the tavern and hurried over to where we were sitting.

  “The black wounds are closed, t’pahq,” she said giving me a formal salute. “The others are clean and I have stitched them.”

  “Is it bad?” Markos asked, handing the shield maiden a tankard of porter.

  The woman gave him a disparaging look rolling her eyes heavenward. “Markos,” she paused as if restraining an urge to slap the younger man, “have you ever been wounded in battle and it was good?”

  “Point made. Point taken,” Markos smiled.

  Karyn sat beside me. “Dthor is as fit and strong as he is handsome, T’pahq, he will heal quickly. He is asking for you.”

  King Janir was at Dthor’s bedside when I arrived. He was leaning over the soldier helping him to drink. He turned in response to Dthor’s sudden movement as he caught sight of me approaching. The king rose, handing the goblet to Jalin.

  “Walk with me a moment, Meriq.” The king’s tone made it abundantly clear that this was not an invitation; it was as close to a command as Janir had ever made to m
e. Dthor smiled weakly and nodded for me to go. Out in the courtyard Janir paused to flick a stone from the parapet of the central fountain. He turned and sat on the low wall motioning me to join him. “What in Zoar’s name are you doing, Meriq?”

  “I am doing as you have asked, Majesty.” I answered. “I am teaching Jae’nt how to be a king.”

  “I meant with Dthor.”

  “What has he told you, Highness?”

  The king gave me a stony frown. “He has told me nothing. He will tell me nothing. It is Jae’nt who tells me that when he is wounded it is Dthor who bleeds. So I ask you again, Meriq. What have you done?”

  “I have done what I must, sire.”

  “But Dthor . . .”

  “Dthor is doing as he feels he must, sire. I had no say in his decision.”

  “You should have stopped him.” The king told me reproachfully.

  “That would have been an interesting event,” I answered, “rather like him trying to stop me from doing what I am doing for you, my king. Dthor elected to make the pact with The Reaver. He did not consult me. He did not warn me. He shoved me aside and took the oath on himself.”

  “You should have stopped him.” Janir said again. He paused looking around at the wreckage of the city. “So much death,” he said quietly. He turned his dark eyes on me. “Is it worth the sacrifice, Meriq?”

  “To ensure that the evil that has enveloped our land is destroyed? I believe so, Majesty. But do not ask me—ask the army. They continue to follow your lead and Keelan’s. I suppose they must consider the sacrifice worthwhile.”

  “And you, Meriq? What about what you are sacrificing?” Janir reached over and cupped my chin in his hand.

  “My king,” I said quietly, “I am doing my duty as I see it and in what I hope is the way my father would have wished.”