Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Where did you acquire this blade?” he pressed. Now that it had shifted polarity, Endric could feel it pulling on him, reminding him of the way that the sword he’d discovered in Urik’s quarters had pulled on him. Did Novan feel the same, or was he unaware of that?

  “What did you do to it?” the commander demanded. “I can’t hear it!”

  “Good,” Novan said. “The fact that you could hear it at all was dangerous.”

  “Why?” Senda asked.

  Novan glanced over at her, and Endric wondered for a moment whether he would answer. When he did, he held out the sword, waiting for Senda to take it. “There are few who are able to detect the power trapped within teralin. It is a gift, and those able to do so have an ability, but it is a dangerous one. The metal makes no distinction between allowing connection to the positive or the negative polarity.”

  “He’ll be able to reach this one as well?” Endric asked.

  Novan shrugged. “Possibly in time. It takes time to develop the connection to the positive polarity, much like it takes time to develop the connection to the negative.”

  “You developed that connection rapidly the last time.”

  “I did, but that was because I was holding it and I was using it the way that they intended. That… augments… something about the metal. It is not well understood, even by me.”

  “Who does understand it?” Endric asked.

  Novan shook his head. “Not now, Endric.”

  The commander’s eyes widened, and he laughed, his voice carrying. “Can’t believe he planned this as well.”

  “What plan?”

  The commander grunted. “You said you were Endric.”

  Endric glanced at him. “I told you who I was when we met on the field, back when you thought to abduct me.”

  “You said you served the Denraen. You didn’t share with me that you were the son of the general.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I might not have tried to sell you,” the man said, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I might have made a better arrangement for you. He would have been angry with me, but it would have been worth it.”

  “I think this worked out for the best.” He took the teralin sword that Senda had been studying and held it out. The metal sang to him, strange in that the sword he’d acquired from Urik’s quarters didn’t have the same effect. “Now. You will tell us who hired you.”

  “He would destroy me.”

  “What makes you think I’ll do anything different?” Endric asked.

  “You have already shown that you can’t beat me.”

  “And you could beat me without the sword?” Endric asked. He met the commander’s gaze until the other man looked away. “I didn’t think so. I’ve seen how the metal grants abilities, but I don’t need this sword to have skill with the sword. Tell me. Who gave this to you?”

  The man glanced from Novan to Senda, and finally to Endric. “His name was Urik.”

  27

  They rode hard, driving the horses south. Endric clutched the reins of a borrowed mount, trying to keep his mind focused but struggling as they swept past fields of flowers, occasional dense thickets of trees, and ignored roads. His mind remained fixed on a singular thought: Urik had directed the Ravers.

  It surprised him. Urik hadn’t shown himself to particularly hate the Denraen. He’d used the Denraen but had never seemed as if he wanted to destroy them. If he’d been willing to attack them, then his feelings had changed. No longer was it simply about getting vengeance for what happened to his family. Now it was something else.

  Every so often, Senda glanced over at him. Likely she wondered what he was thinking and how he handled the news of Urik. Endric hadn’t processed it completely, not enough to give him clarity.

  How did he feel about the discovery that Urik had been the guiding force for the Ravers? He hated the role Urik had played in what had happened to his brother and for what he’d done to the Denraen, forcing the attack against the Deshmahne. That had been reason enough to bring him in. If he’d transitioned to outright attack on the Denraen, there was even more reason.

  They hadn’t learned anything else of use from the commander. His bravado faded when Novan had shifted the polarity of the sword, leaving him effectively neutered. None of his men lived, so he had no hope of escape. Endric had insisted that they bring him south.

  Novan hadn’t come with them. The historian was determined to discover more about Urik before the Denraen did and had ridden for Thealon, where he was last rumored to have been. Endric had considered going with him but knew that he needed to return to Listain. There was a limit to how long he was willing to abandon the rest of the Denraen.

  “We should be near Haefn,” Senda said on their second day. They rode the horses hard, a sad luxury they had, as there were only the four of them. They had extra mounts from the fallen Denraen, and they kept them lightly loaded. “Listain would have passed through here.”

  “He was heading for Gomald,” Endric said.

  “We should still have a few days before he makes it that far south,” Senda said.

  Endric only nodded.

  Their days had been about riding hard and their nights had been spent quietly, though Endric had asked Senda to work with him with the staff, wanting to improve with that as well. He was determined to learn what he could from her, to do whatever it took for him to improve. The fact that the commander could better him with only a special sword—much like the Deshmahne had improved their skill by carrying a teralin sword—still bothered him, and he wouldn’t have a repeat.

  The commander watched them each night, his eyes tracking Senda. During the day, he followed her as well.

  They passed a few villages, each destroyed, and Endric noted the commander’s dark smile as they passed. Was this Raver work as well? Why such destruction? What did it gain them?

  “Why was Urik after her?” Endric asked him on the second day.

  “I didn’t question. He hired us for a job.”

  “He didn’t hire. You’ve already revealed that you worked on his behalf. Why did he want her?” Senda had ridden up with Pendin, and they spoke softly. “You didn’t want anything to do with me.” And Urik must not have warned them about him because the commander hadn’t seemed prepared for the fact that Endric might appear. Had that been a surprise?

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know more than you’re saying,” Endric said.

  “I know he wanted her.”

  “Why?”

  The commander sneered at him. “The best reason. Revenge.”

  The commander was quiet as they rode. Endric wanted to push him, to force him to reveal what he knew, but would he even learn anything that he could act upon? Would it matter now that he headed back to Listain?

  And what choice did he have?

  Endric couldn’t head to Thealon and attempt to take on Urik on his own, not if he had managed to acquire an army. It made sense that he would. How else would he challenge the Deshmahne? And he even had gone as far as to mirror the tactics the Deshmahne used, borrowing from their use of the teralin.

  By the evening of the third day, they saw movement that looked like Denraen.

  They had returned to the road, following the main thoroughfare as it cut across the land. They passed around a few small villages, not wanting to draw attention, but Endric would have enjoyed a night in a bed. He would have enjoyed a bath as well, and maybe even something to eat that wasn’t dried meat and old bread.

  Seeing the Denraen, they hurried south.

  They reached the camp by evening.

  As they did, Endric noted that the numbers were different than when he’d been with Listain before. Then, there had been only about forty men remaining after the attack, but now there were several hundred. Multiple regiments.

  Had his father sent reinforcements?

  They would have been needed. After the last attack, they would need more men, especially if they were to make it
south and confront the Deshmahne.

  “What is this?” Pendin asked.

  “Listain sent for additional men. Looks like they came.”

  They were stopped by a pair of Denraen who looked shocked at their return. One of the men, an older soldier by the name of Jon, guided them to Listain, leaving the other to watch until his return. The normalcy of the camp was reassuring, as was the number of soldiers here, especially if the Ravers thought to attack again.

  At the center of the camp, they found Listain.

  But also Fennah.

  Another en’raen?

  “Looks like your father decided you needed help,” Pendin whispered.

  “Why would he have sent another en’raen?” Endric asked, mostly to himself. Additional men made sense, but Fennah meant that he’d sent additional leadership as well.

  Had the Raver attack finally unsettled him?

  Listain caught sight of them. He wore an unreadable expression, but it slipped slightly when he saw Senda. Now that Endric knew she was his niece, he understood.

  “You survived,” Listain said, nodding to Endric.

  “I did.”

  “Who is that?” He motioned toward the bound commander, and Endric jerked the reins, pulling the horse close enough for Endric to drag the commander from the saddle.

  “We found the commander of the Ravers,” Endric said.

  Listain stared at the man for a long moment. “You captured their leader?”

  Endric glanced around, looking first at Fennah, who seemed to be watching him from near the fire, to Listain, and then to the other soldiers nearby. They were all higher-ranking soldiers. This was more than only a few regiments. “Not the leader. He’s in Thealon, I think.”

  Listain’s eyes widened slightly, quickly making a connection, his features betraying him for the first time that Endric had ever seen. “That’s not possible. He hasn’t been away long enough for him to take control of the Ravers.”

  “That’s what I said,” Senda answered, “but I think Endric is right.”

  Listain reached for the commander and lifted him from the saddle more easily than Endric would have guessed him able. He grabbed him beneath the chin and tilted his head toward him, forcing him to meet Listain’s eyes. “Where is he?” Listain asked.

  The commander smirked. “He thought you might come for him. Do you know that he fears you most of all?” the commander asked.

  Listain grunted. “He should.”

  “Which is why he sent me for her. He knew you would come for her.”

  The commander lunged.

  Endric wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he somehow managed to crash his head into Listain’s in a sickening thud.

  Listain fell back.

  The commander fell onto him, driving his knee into Listain’s midsection.

  He brought his other knee around, catching Listain in the head. This one sent Listain’s head rocking to the side.

  By that time, Endric and Senda both reacted.

  Senda smacked the commander with her staff, knocking him off Listain. Endric had unsheathed, and he jabbed his sword into the man’s side.

  He rolled toward Endric, a pleased expression on his face, smiling as he wrapped his hands around the teralin sword. “You,” he started. Blood burbled from his lips.

  “What about me?”

  The man spit. “You he doesn’t fear. You did… everything he expected. Predictable. Came after the girl. Brought me to him. Predictable.”

  He leaned into the sword, pushing himself onto Endric’s blade.

  Endric jerked away, not wanting to lose the one person who could provide answers, but it was too late.

  The commander died, bleeding heavily from the wound in his side.

  Endric stared at him a moment before turning his attention back to Listain.

  Pendin leaned over Listain but looked up as Endric approached. Fennah crouched across from him.

  “He’s gone,” Pendin said.

  “Listain?” Senda whispered.

  “Senda,” Endric started, reaching for her shoulder.

  She jerked away. “Listain can’t be gone. He’s only injured. We need to…”

  “He’s gone,” Pendin said.

  Senda caught her breath. “He can't be gone. Listain can't be gone.”

  Pendin shook his head. He held onto his side as he stood, the injury he sustained from the blackened teralin sword still straining him. Endric had seen him wincing at times in the past, but his steward was much too proud to allow it to slow him. Endric couldn't believe he still lived, especially after the nature of the injury he'd sustained. Something like that should be enough to kill any other man.

  “He can't live with this kind of injury.”

  As Pendin backed away, Endric realized what he meant. Listain’s head was split open, the force of one of the attacks enough to cave his skull in.

  Senda took a steadying breath, and Endric knew how much effort it took her not to sob. She was strong, and there were times when he thought she was too strong. She needed to grieve, needed to mourn the loss of Listain. None would deny her that.

  Fennah looked up to Endric. “What happened here? Who was the man that you brought to the camp?”

  Endric motioned to the side, directing her away from Pendin and Senda. He wouldn't have this conversation in front of them, not when it was his fault that the damned commander had come into the camp.

  “He knew where to find Urik,” Endric said.

  Fennah's breath caught. “Where?”

  Endric shook his head. “I'm not entirely certain. Dendril spoke of the rumors of him in Thealon. And he called Urik a priest.”

  “The priests wouldn’t protect him,” Fennah said.

  Endric wasn’t certain. After what he’d seen, he could imagine a scenario where Urik convinced them to help him.

  “You're saying that Urik leads the Ravers?”

  Endric nodded. “Leads them. Has armed them. And”—Endric could barely believe this to be true—“apparently planned for this.” He swallowed, licking lips that had gone suddenly dry. Endric could understand why Urik feared Listain. The man was like a spider, crawling around, pulling information from his various networks. It made him dangerous in ways that Dendril was not believed to be, ways that Endric never could be. And now he was gone, and Urik hadn't even needed to sacrifice anything other than a man who had demonstrated a fanatical devotion to him.

  “I don't understand why he would do this.”

  “I don't understand either. I thought he was acting out of vengeance. I thought that was the entire reason that he had used the Denraen, and used the historian guild, but maybe there was more to it that we didn't understand. This shows—”

  “A hatred,” Fennah finished for him.

  Endric nodded. “A hatred. And now he has assumed control of the Ravers, which means that he is attacking in a different way. We won't be safe if he continues to bring the Ravers against us.”

  “We need to—”

  Fennah didn't get the chance to finish. There came a shout from the scouts, and both Endric and Fennah spun, turning at the same time.

  “An attack,” Endric said.

  Fennah nodded. Endric unsheathed his sword, racing toward the edge of the camp. If there were an attack, there would only be one reason. Either the Ravers had discovered that he had returned and sought to save their commander, or they came to try to decimate the Denraen. Either way, Endric needed to do what he could to slow the attack.

  As they reached the edge of the camp, Endric quickly noted they were outnumbered.

  “There have to be nearly a thousand men out there,” Fennah said.

  “If that’s the Ravers…”

  “They’re the reason Dendril sent us south. When he heard of the attack on Listain, he realized the Ravers had taken a different tact. He thought he was sending enough men.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, surveying the camp. She made a motion with her hand, and the men sprang
into action, beginning to break camp, readying to fight.

  Endric was impressed, as he always was, to watch the Denraen as they worked. There was a simple sort of efficiency about them. It was something that had been trained into them, one that he hoped that his father's comment about the lessons of the Denraen, the need for each sergeant and higher to drill on specific movements, had been enough to give them the edge. The Ravers might know how to fight, and some might be armed with teralin swords that would give them an advantage, but the Denraen had the advantage of their training.

  “We're going to have to fight,” Endric said.

  Fennah shook her head. “That wasn't the order.”

  Endric laughed darkly. “I don't think the men we see out there on the battlefield give much of a damn about the order. They're going to force us to fight.”

  It had been only a night since Endric had faced a portion of the Raver army. That had been perhaps fifty men strong. Endric had killed many, staying alive long enough until Pendin and the rest of the Denraen arrived, though he suspected it had been Novan who had turned the tide. Would he have such success here? Could he against such great odds?

  Fennah stared straight ahead. “We are tasked with keeping the peace.”

  “We are. But there can be no peace with men like this roaming the countryside. I've seen the way they attack. I've seen how they've left the villages destroyed. They’re nearly as bad as the Deshmahne.”

  If he thought like Urik, Endric thought he could understand why they would be so dangerous. Urik had intended to train them, make them strong enough so that they could face the Deshmahne. They couldn't do that if they were weak. They needed strength. The difference was that the Deshmahne had been clever enough to refrain from too many attacks on the Denraen. The dark priests had been drawn into one, forced by Urik as he had managed to generate the battle between the two, and they had been drawn into Vasha, enticed by the promise of teralin, but then Urik had betrayed them there as well. He had wanted the Denraen to destroy those Deshmahne.

  The Ravers would try to prove their strength now.