Blood-Stained Heir (Ascent Archives Book 1)

by T. Norman

  “So be it.” Zaren released the man and let him drop to the floor, Petrik’s sword still protruding from his body. “I’m sorry. I wanted to know what your limits were. Now I know.”

  Petrik sighed with relief. “I understand. Let’s get him some help.” Petrik stepped toward the man on the ground when he felt a sudden pain. Looking down, he saw Zaren’s hand holding a dagger in his stomach. Petrik collapsed to the floor.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this, you should know that.” Zaren stepped over him. “You forced my hand.” He reached down and pulled the dagger out of Petrik’s stomach. “This is for Dirk. Your death will harden him. Make him into the warrior he needs to be.” He knelt down next to Petrik.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Petrik coughed up blood as he spoke. He was starting to go numb.

  Zaren shook his head. “Yes, I do.” He reached the dagger down toward Petrik’s throat. “It’s nothing personal.”

  The last thing Petrik felt was warmth seep through his body before everything went dark.

  10

  Zaren stood a few feet behind Dirk as the burial ceremony got underway. He observed the young man, stone faced, as his best friend was put to rest. Every soldier was buried here in the warrior’s graveyard, outside of Mohrr, in an unmarked grave. They did not seek praise in battle, therefore they didn’t receive it in death. Dirk shifted his cloak as the chill of the breeze nipped at his neck. As the ceremony ended, Dirk stayed behind until all others had left. Zaren stood watching the entire time.

  Dirk slowly walked over to the grave and collapsed to his knees. Zaren could hear the cracking in his voice as he said his final words.

  “Petrik, I’m sorry.” Dirk fought back tears as he said, “I shouldn’t have left. You saved my life. The assassin was coming for me, but you stopped him.” He wiped away the tears. “I won’t stop until I have avenged you.” He laid his hand on the dirt mound, bowed his head to say a prayer, and then rose to leave. He spotted Zaren and asked sternly, “What do you know about the man who did this?” All the color had left his cheeks.

  “The dagger was a simple one, no significant markings. However, we found a letter on him.” Zaren reached into his pocket and removed the parchment. “Take a look for yourself.”

  Dirk quickly reached out his hand and grabbed the paper, scanning its contents intently. “Dusseldorf.” He clenched his fist, crunching the parchment. “I should have known. After all, they assassinated my grandfather.”

  “There is nothing you can do now except continue to train and get stronger. When the time comes to march onto the battlefield, then you can take the vengeance you desire.” It was not what Dirk wanted to hear, but it was what he had to tell him.

  Both men turned their heads in unison as they heard the war horn blow. Once for friends. They waited a few seconds until they heard the second call. Twice for foes. “Your Majesty, we need to get back to the fort, we aren’t safe out here alone.” Zaren scanned the surrounding area. “We need to go now!” he shouted. Dirk followed his gaze to the woods near the Skirling Mountains, where he saw men come charging out of the woods.

  The two started sprinting toward the fort. Zaren kept looking over his shoulder to see the men gaining on them. “Dirk, keep going, I’ll hold them off,” Zaren commanded as he stopped and drew his scimitar. Dirk halted with him.

  “Those aren’t men, are they?” Dirk asked.

  “They’re Mathox.” Zaren confirmed, readying himself for the assault. “Now get going!” He counted around two-dozen Mathox charging toward the fort.

  “No.” Dirk stood next to Zaren and drew his two new short swords. “We stand together.” Zaren saw the fire in his eyes as he spoke.

  “Very well,” Zaren gave in, knowing the young man wouldn’t leave. “Once they are on us, keep our backs together. We don’t need to defeat them all, we simply need to hold them off until reinforcements get here.”

  As the Mathox drew closer, they were able to make out their features. They stood between seven and eight feet tall and had pitch-black skin, with red markings over their arms and faces. Each wore a random collection of armor, some of metal, some only leather. Their weapons followed suit, ranging from swords to axes, pitchforks to butcher knives. As they continued to get closer, Zaren noticed all of their eyes were blood-red and that they all had what looked like a pair of small horns on their heads, except the one at the front of the pack who had many short horns. That one had to be the leader.

  Within moments the Mathox were on them, swinging wildly. Dirk moved to face the fort, covering Zaren’s back. Zaren wore only light leather armor, which would stop glancing blows, but he knew anything with force behind it would cause serious damage. Right and left Zaren swung, blocking blows to keep the Mathox back. They were aggressive in their initial attack, but after Zaren struck home on three they backed off and took turns lunging at the two men.

  “Dirk, talk to me,” Zaren called out to the young prince.

  “I’m fine.” Zaren heard a grunt and the familiar sound of a sword finding flesh. “One more down.” Dirk was showing exceptional skill with his two short swords.

  The Mathox leader gave a bone-shaking howl and the attack stopped. He walked forward to face Zaren, brandishing his bone axe. “I think this one wants to fight me.” Zaren gave a small smile.

  “No,” Dirk stepped in front of Zaren to face the leader. “This one’s mine.”

  Zaren made a move to get in front of Dirk, but before he could, the lead Mathox was charging and Dirk rose to the attack. The Mathox swung a deadly blow with his axe, missing Dirk by inches as the young man leapt aside. Dirk countered with a flurry of swings from his short swords. A few hit their target, but the small scratches didn’t seem to bother the Mathox. He continued his assault, swinging his axe left and right, forcing Dirk to give ground. Zaren looked toward the fort and saw a cloud of dust, signaling reinforcements were on their way.

  Turning around, he saw Dirk swinging furiously at the Mathox leader, pushing him back on his heels. Zaren took this opportunity to strike at the Mathox watching the battle. He lunged right and his sword found a neck. Following with a counterblow, he took down two more before they realized what was happening. There were only a dozen left, the Mathox leader included.

  As Zaren turned to block a swift blow, an arrow took a Mathox in the stomach. He turned to see the cavalry riding in, with archers taking aim at their foes. The other Mathox, seeing they were now outnumbered, turned and fled back toward the woods. Only the Mathox leader stayed behind, as he was still in a heated battle with Dirk.

  Blow after blow, the two blocked and countered each other without either gaining more ground than they gave. Zaren held up a hand up to the archers, calling them to hold their fire against the leader. Dirk lunged, using his speed to get inside the reach of the Mathox’s axe. He pierced the Mathox leader’s stomach, bringing him to the ground. Zaren relaxed, seeing the fight was over.

  “Good work, kid,” Zaren called to Dirk. “Let’s get back to the fort.” Dirk let his swords drop, but otherwise stood unmoving. He slowly bent down and kneeled over the Mathox. In an instant he began throwing blow after blow at the Mathox, bloodying his face with his hands. “Dirk!” Zaren called, trying to get him to stop. He stepped forward and pulled Dirk off the dead Mathox.

  “It’s all my fault!” Dirk had tears running from his eyes. “If I wouldn’t have left, he would still be alive!” Zaren shook his head at the prince.

  “It’s not your fault. Petrik gave his life to save you. If it wouldn’t have been then, it would have been some other time.” Zaren picked up Dirk’s short swords and handed them to the young man. “Anger clouds your judgment on the battlefield; don’t let it consume you. Passion makes a warrior. Use his sacrifice to give yourself passion and purpose. You fought bravely today, and he would be proud of you.” Dirk lifted his head and wiped away his tears.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He stood, took the swords from Zaren, and stalked off toward the fort.
>
  11

  Rysh woke at sunrise. They had been traveling across Sapphire Lake for over a day now and he knew they were getting close to their destination. He had hardly slept since they passed Doormon.

  “Good morning, Limmey. How far are we from Janost?” Rysh had grown fond of the old man; he had a chipper attitude and entertained the group with his outlandish stories.

  “You can see her there,” he pointed to the west. “Just on the horizon. We should be there before lunch!” Rysh’s stomach growled. They were running low on food and rather than stop, they had been rationing their supplies. He had eaten less than everyone else, trying to save food for Gant, Julia, and Gayle, who was still on the mend.

  “I’ll wake the others and get them ready.” Rysh moved in close to Limmey and said, “We aren’t staying long. We’re going to resupply, then I want to get back on the river.” He pulled out a bronze coin. “What do you need to get us out of here as soon as we can?”

  Limmey bit the coin, as his usual fashion. “I could use some more tack for my fishing, and maybe some ale, but other than that I’ll be good to go!” He gave a crooked smile.

  “I can pick that up for you.” Rysh turned to wake the others. He looked into his bag and noticed he only had three silver coins and four bronze coins left. Not enough for supplies and a ride to Dusseldorf.

  He moved to where the others were sleeping. Bors was snoring loudly, Mic sat half asleep with his hammer in hand, Gayle and Gant were both sound asleep, as were Julia and Lori. Ros laid next to Gant. As Rysh moved closer, she opened one eye in curiosity.

  “Time to get up,” Rysh announced sternly. “We’ll be to Janost within a few hours.” Mic stood up immediately and stretched his arms. Rysh could tell he barely slept. “I’ll make some coffee.”

  Mic followed him to their makeshift fire pit. They built a small fire on a metal pan and once the flames were going, they put the coffee on.

  “What’s the plan?” Mic stood by Rysh, watching the coffee begin to boil.

  “I’m not sure yet. We need to leave as soon as we can.” Rysh showed Mic the coins they had left. “This might be a problem, though. I don’t think we’ll be able to buy supplies and make it to Dusseldorf on this alone.”

  Mic shook his head. “Not a chance, but as long as we make it to Port Sarim, we should be able to find work there.”

  “That’s my goal.” The others gathered around the fire, the aroma of coffee drawing them close.

  As they all sat drinking small cups of coffee, Rysh shared with them the plan for the day. “We’re out of supplies, so we are going to need to restock as much as we can. The issue is, we’re running out of money.” Rysh looked at the worried faces of those around him. I will protect you. “Lori, get what supplies you can. We have some rabbit furs we can exchange. Limmey needs fishing tack and ale, so make sure we get that as well. Take all the money; this will hopefully be our last stop before Port Sarim.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Rysh turned to Gayle. “How’s your leg doing?”

  Gayle had slowly been recovering, but in the confined spaces of the ferry he never got a chance to fully stretch his leg and test his mobility. “I’m good, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  Rysh knew he was still limping, but he needed everyone to pitch in. “Good, you’re going with Lori. Mic, you’re going to stay here and keep watch with Limmey, Bors, and Gant.”

  “Where are you going?” Bors asked curiously.

  “I’m going to check the area around the docks and make sure we are safe.” Rysh had set up a meeting with Apo’k through Ros and needed to get away from the others once they reached Janost.

  “It’s too dangerous. You shouldn’t go out there alone,” Gant pled with his father.

  “I could use an extra hand,” Lori chimed in. “If Gayle is carrying supplies, then who is going to protect us?”

  “I’ll go with her.” Bors waved his hand in acknowledgement.

  Rysh quickly shook his head. “No. Gant, go with Lori and Gayle. Bors, you can come with me. Mic, you and Limmey keep watch over the ferry.”

  There was some mumbling from the group, but they all accepted their roles.

  Within an hour, they could see Janost much clearer. It was a small town, but being on Sapphire Lake there was a lot of water traffic. Small fishing boats populated much of the water around the town, and the harbor had many others moored there, as well.

  “Let’s get in and get out as fast as possible.” Rysh had a bad feeling about this town. He wished they could keep going, but they desperately needed supplies. He moved to Gant and crouched down to whisper in his ear. “Stay close to the others. If anything happens, get back to the ferry and leave immediately.”

  “What about you?” Gant looked concerned.

  “Don’t worry about me. If something happens, I’ve arranged with Limmey to meet you along Arbor Gold. It will all work out no matter what.” Rysh put his hand on his son’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I won’t let you down.” Rysh looked at Ros and gave the dog a slight nod of his head. Ros cocked her head to the side in return. Rysh hoped Apo’k had gotten his message and that he would be at their meeting.

  Limmey steered toward the town. As they passed by fishermen, they got strange looks. The rundown ferry looked out of place. Limmey pulled up to a dock and Rysh jumped off to tie the boat down.

  “Remember, stay together and get back here as soon as possible,” he told the group. He gave Mic a nod; he was the only one in on the full plan to leave if things went wrong.

  “Let’s go,” he called to Bors, who was stumbling onto the dock. The two made their way around the harbor, taking in the locals and the shops. Rysh caught a glimpse of a man sneaking into an alley, and he knew it was time to lose Bors. “Check out this tavern, see what you hear from the locals.” Rysh nodded at the building on his left.

  “What about you?” Bors looked at Rysh suspiciously.

  “I don’t play the drunk as well as you do. I’ll wait outside and keep watch.” He waved his hand at Bors to get going.

  “Well, I’ve never been one to pass up a drink!” He laughed as he opened the door. The smell of ale wafted out, making Rysh cringe.

  Once Bors was safely inside, Rysh made his way toward the nearby alley. As he turned inside, he saw Apo’k sitting on a wooden crate.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t get my message.” Rysh moved toward the strange man.

  Apo’k stood to greet him, a frown on his face. “This port isn’t safe; you need to leave. Be quick. What is it you need?” His words were hushed and spoken with haste.

  “When I let the group know we weren’t heading for Crestbrooke, did you see anyone send a message?”

  Apo’k shook his head. “No, but a day ago I saw men in Crestbrooke get into a ship and head south.”

  “They know we’re here.” A pang of fear struck Rysh. “I need to get the others.” As he turned to leave, Apo’k grabbed his arm.

  “No!” Four soldiers came around the corner into the alley, facing Rysh, their swords drawn. Rysh heard footsteps coming from the other end of the alley and knew they were surrounded. As the soldiers charged, Rysh drew his sword, but in the confines of the alley he knew its reach would be a hindrance. He blocked the first attacker with his shield and was able to stab forward, pushing him back. The next man swung an overhand blow, which Rysh narrowly dodged by sidestepping. Knowing his sword would do him no good, he dropped it to the ground and quickly drew his dagger. He was only facing the first two, but their short swords forced him to retreat until he bumped into Apo’k. He knew he could go no further. As he charged toward them desperately, he watched them both fall to the ground. He looked up and saw Bors standing over him with a bloody sword in hand.

  “Looks like you could use some help.” Bors reached down a hand to help him up.

  “Thanks.” Rysh turned to see Apo’k standing over three bodies with two machetes in his hands. “Are you all right?”

/>   “Yes, but you must leave now. Go!” He turned and ran out of the alley, away from Rysh and Bors.

  “Who was your friend?” Bors asked accusingly.

  Rysh shook his head. “Just an acquaintance. We need to get back to the others.”

  The two ran out of the alley to a scene of chaos. Soldiers marched around town breaking down doors and burning buildings as they went.

  Rysh was horrified. “Let’s move, now!” he yelled at Bors as they ran toward the docks. Rysh saw the harbor start to take form and felt his heart miss a beat. Royal soldiers were searching all the boats and were only a few away from theirs.

  “Wait!” Bors grabbed Rysh by the arm and pulled him behind a stack of crates. “We need to think before we act.”

  Rysh could feel his heart racing from adrenaline. He knew he needed to calm down, but he couldn’t stop worrying about Gant. “All right, do you see anyone on the boat?”

  Bors poked his head around the crates. “I only see Limmey. He’s talking to the guards.” Rysh looked out to see what the soldiers were doing, as well.

  “That’s the one from Wayton!” He recognized the man in the front carrying a scimitar at his side. “He’s the one who killed Darren and Don.” Rysh had been hoping their paths would cross again so he could avenge his fallen friends.

  “Oh no,” Bors pointed toward the shops by the harbor. Rysh followed his line of sight to see Lori walking out of the buildings with a number of guards following her. She walked up to the leader of the group and exchanged a few words with him. Rysh watched as she pointed at Limmey and nodded.

  “That man I was meeting with told me there was a traitor among us,” Rysh told Bors. “I thought it was you.” Rysh clenched his fist around his sword hilt as he watched the soldier draw his sword and cut Limmey down where he stood.

  “You should be glad it wasn’t me, considering I just saved your life.”

  “I’m sorry.” Before Rysh could finish his apology, he realized the one thing he had overlooked. “Gant and Gayle went with Lori.”