The Heir of Gorradan (Chronicles of Faerowyn Book 2)

by Tony Roberts

  Theruddas saw it and snarled. “Loose, you bastards! She’s using her black magic to hide them. All of you, loose! You’ll hit something!”

  Even as the bowmen raised their weapons, Faer raised her right arm. She couldn’t help but hear the shriek of the spell-caster and knew what was coming. Now she willed a wall of force to rise before her. Arrows shot at the cloud, some striking the rock but most plunging towards her. The wall deflected most away, but three hit her, two on the chest, knocking her back and the third the arm, sinking into her flesh.

  She cried out and grabbed the wooden shaft, pulling at it. Her flesh ripped and blood flowed freely. Instantly she put her sword to the wound and it lit up her arm as the powers within it sealed the hole and healed her. She staggered away, the stinging remnants of the wound shooting through her system. Flinging the arrow aside, she ran, leaving the dark cloud behind her to dissipate.

  Theruddas growled. “The bitch has fooled you,” he snapped. “Wait!” He stopped the men who had begun to run to the cave entrance. He held aloft his staff with the orb on the end, and now pointed it at the cave. He filled his lungs and began chanting out some obscure words, his voice growing in timbre. Then with a final flourish, he sent into the cave a bright greenish-white bolt of light.

  Faer had got to the back of the cave and saw the tunnel the others had gone down. She took one look over her shoulder and shrieked in fright as the light came for her. In a reflex she threw up both hands and without even thinking sent a wall of protection around herself. The air roared as the light exploded all around her, splashing the walls with its residue. The force of the strike sent her over, but her protective shield did its job.

  She got to her feet painfully, eyeing the entrance, as men began entering the cave. What Theruddas had done was anyone’s guess, but she surmised it wasn’t pleasant. Maybe one of those rotting death spells, or an acid attack, or anything, really. More and more she was convinced he was a patron of the dark arts, necromancy or something along those lines. Luckily Lace and the others hadn’t been there, or else they would most likely be choking their lives away by now.

  She plunged into the tunnel and followed the steeply descending route, finding it to be smooth-walled and ceilinged. It was an old waterway, by the looks of things. Maybe an old river that had cut through the rocks here by going underground. There was a chasm up ahead, so she had been told, so she’d best watch her footing.

  After a few moments the tunnel levelled out and she came to a widening of the passage. It peeled away suddenly and she was in a massive underground chamber. Steps had been cut for people to descend to the level of the floor, down ten steps. Thirty paces or so further on the floor just dropped into blackness. The gap was fifty or more paces to a narrow ledge on the far side and a stepped path led up against the far wall to an oval entrance and the path passed into this.

  Crossing the chasm was a stone man-made bridge, three men in width, anchored firmly to the rock on both sides and on either side of the bridge were retaining walls to keep those crossing safe from slipping off the edge. Lace and his group were already halfway across. Faer came down the steps and ran for the bridge, shouting out a warning she was being pursued closely.

  Lace waved his men to stand by the far end and guard, while Heller and he went past them and went up the steps to the narrow path set against the rock wall. Here there was no safety wall or rail. Walk too far to the right and the next stop was at the bottom of the deep chasm.

  Faer panted as she came across the bridge. She wondered who had built it and when. It looked ancient. The air was cold here, wafting up from below. She thought she could hear water, and the smell of salt was strong. She stopped once she got to the far side and rested, getting her breath back.

  “Well, no way back from here,” Heller said from the top of the steps. “Still glad you came here?”

  “Oh yes,” she breathed, “wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  Lace pointed. “Here they are.”

  Given away by their torches, the vanguard of the royalist army arrived, staring in wonder at the scenery. Huge stalagmites and stalactites rose and fell from floor and ceiling, in some places joining. The six men crouched, making themselves as small as possible. Lace turned to Heller. “I’m going to talk to the prince. I don’t think they will keep us waiting long.”

  “Neither do I,” Heller said.

  Faer stood up, having got her breathing under control. “So now what?”

  Heller grunted. “Let’s see what this charmless wand-waver is prepared to do.”

  Theruddas came at the rear, predictably. He looked around for a moment, then came to the lip of the chasm, peering across at the small group opposing him. “Why don’t you give up?” he shouted to them. “You’re trapped, outnumbered, and in a hopeless situation. Apart from Lace and the girl, the rest of you will be pardoned; the king has no cause to be angry with you, as you’re only blindly following misguided orders.”

  “Why don’t you jump off that edge and save us the trouble of hearing your whining voice any longer?” Heller shouted back.

  Theruddas turned to Sherea. “You think your men can take them?”

  Sherea gritted her teeth. “We can take seven. Archers, spread out along the edge. Bladesmen, be ready to rush the bridge. On my command!”

  Twenty bowmen now spread out, ready to loose across the chasm. They would pin down the six waiting for the attack, while the swordsmen could charge across the bridge unhindered. Faer took two-three-four deep breaths. “Everyone be ready for some nasty stuff. Put the torches out.”

  She stared at Heller. After a heartbeat or two, he reluctantly nodded to Lysak who dropped his torch and stamped it to extinction. That left the torches carried by the royalists. Faer knelt at the end of the bridge and placed her hands together. “Everyone lie flat,” she said.

  The others got down, feeling a little self-conscious. They all stared at Faer who sucked in one deep breath and then picked up her sword. Holding it before her in both hands, one hand on the hilt, the other the point, she waited till the command to loose came, before exhaling and sending up a mighty wall of force. All the missiles fell uselessly into the chasm.

  She stood up. “Now my turn,” she said.

  The assault group had gathered and was now pushing into the bridge. As the archers reloaded, Faer took firm hold of her sword in her right hand and placed her left along the upper part of the blade, and pointed it at the leading figures of the onrushing soldiers coming at her across the bridge. She willed up through her body the hot coursing power of fire and it rushed out of her in one roaring burst along the sword.

  The front two men took the attack full brunt. The force of the strike knocked them off their feet into their comrades behind. The fireball engulfed the front four rows, incinerating the first two men and burning horribly the next six. The others stopped and fell back, horrified.

  Faer gasped and stepped back, amazed at the power of what she’d done, and drained by the effort.

  “Kill her!” Sherea screamed, pointing at the half elf.

  This is what Faer had wanted. Now every archer targeted her. She knelt with her back against the rock wall and placed the tip of her sword against the ground, holding onto the hilt with both hand. With her diminishing power she summoned up a personal body shield and concentrated on keeping it up. The other men were ignored as shaft after shaft arced across the chasm and smacked into the rock around her or bounced off the shield and fell impotently before her.

  The effort of keeping the shield up was taking its toll, and she began to sweat and shake. There wasn’t much longer she could hold out. She looked across the chasm. The archers were looking at one another in consternation. Every arrow they had loosed had been knocked aside with ease. What was this?

  Sherea snarled at Theruddas. “Don’t stand there like a limp flag! Do something to eliminate her. You’re a spell caster, use your magic! My men are onto a hiding across that bridge.”

  The spell ca
ster glared at her. “Watch your tongue, woman. I can easily have you removed from your position. Prepare your men for another attack. This time they will succeed.”

  The burning men were lying in a grotesque pile a third of the way across, and the new assault group were not looking forward to the new attack. Faer dropped her shield and panted, her head hanging. “I’m spent.”

  Heller got to his feet. “So now it’s my four men and me against the horde? We’ll be shot to bits by those archers the moment we get ready.” He looked at the sweat-soaked girl. “Some use you are.”

  Faer laughed. “Always ready with an insult, even at the point of defeat. You’re consistent, I’ll give you that. I need to make this end of the bridge dark.”

  “How are you going to do that if you’re drained?”

  Faer held out one hand. “Let me drain a couple of your men.”

  “What, and leave them useless for the fight?”

  Faer was helped up by Heller. “Two men, half drain each; they’ll be weak but still able to hold their weapons.”

  “You’re a real pain, you know that?” Heller snapped. “Tregedas, Kaptash, here, quick!”

  The two men obediently came forward and Heller quickly told them what was going to happen; they weren’t too pleased but stood side by side nonetheless. Heller watched in morbid fascination as she put her hands on their foreheads and drew their energy out into her. Both men groaned and shook, and Heller could see Faer recovering miraculously before his very eyes – she was like some kind of vampire.

  The two men were released and they sank back, weak. Faer swung round, her eyes bright. “Good! Now to make a mess of their neat plan.”

  Heller stepped back. The soldiers were on the bridge, kicking aside the corpses, holding their noses. The smell of burned flesh wasn’t pleasant. Theruddas was standing by the chasm edge, waving his sceptre about. Faer ignored him for the moment, and gathered the others to her.

  “Stay close. I’m going to create darkness. They won’t be able to see us at all. We’re too far away to see clearly with their torches. You’ll be fine, just stay close to the action. If you stray from me you’ll step outside the area of darkness. I’ll also protect you from his idiot spells.”

  As she willed up her inky blackness, the attack squad came on, swords raised, yelling. The archers raised their bows, then stopped in consternation. There were no targets. “They’ve vanished, sir,” one of the archers complained.

  “Fools,” Theruddas said, and send a bright beam of light across the gap, bathing the entire cavern in an eye-cringing aura. It destroyed the eyesight of the archers and the attackers, but the defenders, huddled in darkness, were not affected. Faer could see through her black sphere and grinned.

  Sherea rubbed her eyes and cursed. “You moron! Now none of us can see anything, and you’ve not done a single useful thing!”

  “Shut up, Captain. This is your last command, so you may as well go and get yourself killed; you’ll be imprisoned for such disrespect on our return, unless you bring me her head.”

  “Very well,” Sherea snapped and made her way to the bridge, following her men who were approaching the area of blackness wondering whether it was there or not – their eyesight was still trying to recover.

  Faer dropped her spell. “Now – they’re yours!” she said to Heller.

  Heller growled and stepped forward with Lysak and Polian. The three met the first attack head-on, sword blades carving havoc in the ranks of the half-blinded soldiers, cutting down a dozen in moments.

  Theruddas turned to the archers. “Shoot them, idiots!”

  “I can’t see them!” the nearest one complained. “It’s all dark!”

  The magic-user swore and strode onto the bridge in the wake of Sherea. The captain herself was approaching the back of her rearmost men. Despite the disadvantage of their eyesight, sheer numbers were telling, and Heller and the two others were being pushed off the bridge. Their retreat was marked by the fallen, Sherea’s force was being butchered, but Heller was tiring, as were his men.

  Faer turned to the two men with her. “Get back to Captain Lace; we can’t hold on here for much longer.” The two stumbled off, hoping to stay on the path and not fall off.

  Tregedas fell, pierced by a sword blade, and Heller cut off the man’s arm who had done it, but now only he and Polian were left to fight. Faer saw Theruddas approach. “Come on, let’s get back. I’ll delay them.”

  Heller and Polian stepped back as Faer came forward and she sent a small sheet of flame at the enemy group’s heads. They shrank back, fearful, and this gave the three time to turn and run. Polian went first, Heller next and Faer at the rear. With a roar of fury, Sherea waved the men on after them.

  Faer pounded up the stone steps and turned. Here was where the path narrowed to only the width of one man and the chasm yawned to her left. Two men came up the steps, swords raised. She sucked in her abdomen and pushed. The two men lost balance; one fell back while the second lost his footing and vanished over the edge with a scream of terror that faded.

  She backed off, making her way to the tunnel mouth. Heller and Polian were there, ready. She joined them. At this point it was wide enough for two.

  “Sent one over the edge?” Heller asked.

  “Yep,” she said briefly. “Didn’t intend to, it just happened.”

  “Too bad,” he said.

  The path leading to the tunnel mouth was only wide enough for one at a time to approach them, and the attackers soon realised this was suicide. Theruddas was called up and he sighed in irritation. He stepped up to the small pile of bodies before the tunnel entrance. Heller and Polian were there, one alongside the other. Behind them was Faer, waiting, her eyes bright.

  “So this is it,” Theruddas said. “I tire of this game. It ends here and now.” He raised his sceptre.

  Faer sent out a shield wall but the sceptre glowed bright and her wall was shattered. Before she could summon up another, the magic-caster had pushed a second spell at them. Both Heller and Polian were engulfed in a bright light, a red-tinged one, and they sank to the floor, unable to stand. Faer, thanks to her pendant, was unaffected.

  “Now, elf-bitch,” Theruddas said with contempt, “this is your end.” He stepped forward, his sceptre pulsing. It slammed some hot spell into her, and although it washed over her, she was sent staggering back by the force of it.

  As Theruddas reached the tunnel mouth, he stepped aside. “Go get her,” he waved to the soldiers.

  Sherea and her men now advanced, swords drawn. Faer took a deep breath, gripped her sword in both hands, and sprang at them, screaming.

  ELEVEN

  Her first downward blow knocked the front man’s sword to one side. The return blow came up under his clumsy parry, the keen elfin steel slicing through the soldier’s mail coat and cutting into his chest. The soldier dropped his sword and fell to his knees, weakened and repelled by the feeling the sword blade gave him as it passed through his body.

  Faer stepped over Heller’s prone figure. Her next blow slashed at the second man’s face and he blocked, but Faer put all her effort into a follow-up and her blade, much lighter than the heavy steel of her opponent, was faster. The second man staggered back, colliding with his comrade and sank inertly to the rock floor.

  Lace came running up with two new men. “Blade!”

  “Get Heller and Polian out of here!” she shouted, trading strikes with two men now she was at the tunnel mouth.

  Lace didn’t ask – he nodded to his two men to drag the helpless duo out of there. As they were taken along the tunnel Lace stood behind Faer. “You can’t hold them off by yourself – bring them back to the open area behind!”

  Faer nodded and retreated, slapping each blow aside as it came for her. Lace ran back to the final cave, a large space with three doors in the opposite wall. These served as the bedroom for the special guest, the office and the storeroom. Heller and Polian were propped against the side while the two other guards now stood
ready. Lace was in the middle, ready to sell his life.

  Fear came back, desperately fending off blow after blow, and it was tiring work. One blow had already got through and she’s been struck across the upper chest but her elfin steel mail had stopped it. She would be bruised underneath.

  She came into the cave and took up a place next to Lace. The four widened their line to give themselves room, and the royal army soldiers came bursting in. Swords came down, cutting, slashing, striking.

  Sherea screamed in frustration. The men ahead of her weren’t letting her through to strike at the hated half elf.

  Faer had no thought for Sherea, just survival. She blanked her mind and stood alongside Lace, her blade smashing aside one blow and sinking deep into the guts of her first opponent. He fell and was replaced by another. Parry, block, slash. This man staggered back, blood streaming down his face, and fell face down onto the rapidly growing carpet of bodies.

  Lace used superior training to deal with his enemies. He gave Faer a look every so often, but realised she was doing more than holding her own.

  During the fight, Heller and Polian came round, the effects of the spell wearing off. They shook their heads, realised the situation, and re-joined the fight. Faer switched to one hand. Her free hand she sent a push into her new enemy and he flung up his arms in reflex. That was the opening she needed and ran him through. The next came with his sword high and she shot a small tongue of flame into his face. Screaming, he clutched his face and was pushed over by the one behind.

  Men went down, and within moments the two guards on either end had fallen, but not before they had taken five. Heller swung mightily, still groggy, but he was a new opponent for the royalists to deal with. Faer heard Lace grunt in pain and saw him fall back, blood streaming from his shoulder. Instantly Faer ‘pushed’ the man who had hurt him and sliced down across his throat.