The Way to Freedom: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5): An Epic Fantasy Action Adventure (The Way to Freedom Series)

by H. M. Clarke

  Dearen dreamed. But when she awoke near dawn she remembered nothing except the feel of feathers on her skin and the sensation of flying.

  Just after dawn they came upon a large open area that had been cut from the forest at some time but now the woods determined to close in on it. The crumbled remains of stone walls and buildings marked the place where people had once lived and worked.

  ‘We will rest here and see if any other bands were close enough to answer my call.’ Ghrista’s mind voice called out to everyone.

  It was Hauga’s turn to carry Dearen and he breathed a sigh of relief as he passed through the tumbled walls and dropped Dearen to the ground. As soon as her feet touched the ground her muscles started to protest, they were aching and sore after her jolting ride and Dearen started to pace up and down to give them a good stretch. After taking care of her toilette, Dearen sat down beside Hauga with her knees pulled up to her chin and her back resting against the rough stone. The morning sun shone against the wall and Dearen closed her eyes to enjoy the warmth and comfort that only bright sunlight can bring.

  It only seemed that she had her eyes closed a few minutes when she felt a hand shaking her awake. Opening her eyes she saw that the morning was well advanced and turned to Hauga in surprise.

  “Have I slept so long?’

  Hauga smiled and nodded.

  ‘Here is some breakfast,’ he said holding out a large piece of jerky.

  “Thanks Hauga.”

  Dearen took the jerky and started to tear strips off it to eat, occasionally taking a swallow of water to soften the dried meat as she chewed. It was not enough to fill her but it was enough to keep away the hunger pangs.

  “Where are we?” Dearen asked between chews. In the new dawn light the ruined walls around her looked to be bathed in gold and the remains of the buildings looked to be once well made, the stone blocks smooth and even.

  Hauga sat with an arm resting on his knee, his golden eyes studying the features around him.

  ‘This is the first time I have been here but I do know its name.’

  Dearen turned to stare up at him, the morning light drowning out the light grey stripes on his face and making his fur shine like fresh snow. His whiskers flexed as he worked the muscles of his upper lip.

  ‘The ruins we see around us are all that remains of the great city of Zimbalardan. It was the main center for Clan Mufista and home to the Cearc in the time before the Great Exile’.

  Dearen stared around her with new eyes. The area was large and what she initially took to be hillocks were in fact the grown over remains of more buildings. This place had lain like this for centuries unknown to anyone except the Dymarki - but they were across the Grotto Sea, yearning to return home.

  ‘Hauga, why did we not return earlier from the Great Exile? Why come now?’

  Hauga smiled at her use of the word ‘we’. ‘You are truly Dymarki, now Dearen. Sometimes I forget that you know nothing of our history.’ Hauga snorted in amusement as he leant back against the warm stone and made himself comfortable.

  ‘In the days before the Great Exile, the Northern Bareskins had a great store of lore and knowledge and their sentients were powerful. The other Bareskins called them SpellCrafters. When the last of the Dymarki left this land across the Grotto sea, these Bareskin SpellCrafters barred the coast from us with powerful bindings. If a Dymarki tried to head back to the Northern coast they would become lost in a sea of fog and mist only to return hours later where they had started. Every generation, the Bareskins would reinforce their Binding and every generation the Dymarki would sail to test the strength of the Binding. But over the last three generations the Binding began to lose strength until this generation it finally failed. We were then free to come back and try to reclaim our traditional home.’

  ‘Do we know why the Binding suddenly failed?’ Dearen asked enthralled in the story. Idly she wondered if she was capable of forming a Binding herself and locking the Bareskins themselves away across the Grotto Sea. But denying someone their home is not the Dymarki way. Acting like a Bareskin makes you just as bad as one.

  ‘The Bareskins stopped reinforcing it or maybe they no longer had the strength to maintain it. Perhaps they thought we would never come back. We do not know.’

  ‘If the Cearcs lived here then that means we could be siting on ground walked by Dearen Hardclaw.’ Dearen shivered in awe and sucked in a slow breath to sooth her nervousness.

  ‘It does at that.’ Hauga agreed.

  ‘One day we should come back and rebuild this place. Make it live once again.’

  ‘When we are safe in our own country we will.’ Hauga uncurled his hand palm up and studied the thick fur that covered it.

  Dearen watched as he flexed his fingers, slowly stretching and relaxing them.

  ‘Are you a bit stiff Hauga? I suppose it’s from carrying me all night.’

  Hauga’s whiskers twitched into a smile. ‘No, I’m not stiff. Just trying to frame my thoughts.’

  Dearen mouthed a silent oh and turned to stare around the ruins. She let herself smile, Dearen considered Hauga her friend and even though she had not known him long, she felt that she could trust him with her life. Dearen rose carefully to her feet and was suddenly conscious of her still aching muscles. She pushed herself into a stretch to try and ease the pain.

  ‘I’m just going to stretch my legs Hauga. I won’t be long, Ghrista will be wanting to move out soon.’

  Dearen walked along the wall and headed into the thick scrub under the trees. Her bladder was burning to be relieved and she hunted quickly around to find a suitable bush. Dearen found a place a fair way into the trees and squatted down to do her business. She was just securing her trousers when she heard a crack of a twig and the faint chink of metal. It sounded from behind her.

  Carefully, Dearen twisted and peered through the branches of the shrubs into the woods beyond. At first she could see nothing except the dark trees and undergrowth but just as Dearen was about to turn away she heard the clink again. This time it was louder. She turned to look more to her left and Dearen instantly stilled as a lightly armored man stepped out slowly from behind the trees. She heard another clink and a whispered curse as two more men followed the first. They were Arranians and each had a red fletched arrow notched and ready in their bows.

  ‘Hauga! Ghrista! There are Northerners coming towards you from the South.’ As she mind spoke more men appeared from the trees until there were ten men who slowly walked passed her towards the ruins. ‘There are ten men here but there might be more coming in from other directions.’

  ‘Dearen, make your way back to us but be careful. Don’t come in behind them. We’ll be sending some arrows their way very soon.’ Dearen nodded at Ghrista’s words though he was not there to see and staying crouched down low, made her way back through the undergrowth towards the Dymarki.

  As Dearen came closer she heard the whistling of arrows spinning through the air and shouts of alarm rose from the men she had just seen. But then Dearen heard shouts calling from the West and North. She was on the eastern side of the woods but as she quickly spun around, Dearen saw no sign of any enemy. Through the trees, Dearen could see a large gap in the crumbling outer wall that stood several feet from the ground and she broke into a run, nimbly ducking under overhanging branches and leaping over fallen wood. As soon as Dearen’s feet hit clear ground she drew her sword from its scabbard and leapt up to the gap in the wall.

  The old wall was several feet thick and Dearen was able to scrabble forward through the breach and survey the scene before her. The Dymarki had formed a circle in the only large open area within the ruins and they fired blue fletched arrows back in answer to the red fletched ones that flew from the forest. Dearen could clearly see Hauga’s tall form towering a head taller above the Dymarki closest to her position. Dearen scanned the area before her again to ensure that there were no enemy coming from the East. Seeing none, Dearen took a deep breath; she will need to make her run now b
efore the Bareskins decide to charge. Hopefully, luck was on her side and she would be able to reach the Dymarki before the Bareskins see her and decide to make a pincushion out of her.

  ‘Hauga, Drusa, don’t shoot. I’m coming towards you from the East.’

  ‘Right. We’ll be watching for you.’

  She vaulted clear of the gap and hit the ground running, sword in hand straight towards Hauga. The Dymarki released another barrage of arrows but no red arrows returned. The combined voices of thirty men rose hard from the forest in an incoherent battle cry. The noise suddenly surged forward and Dearen pumped her legs harder to try and reach the Dymarki before the Northerners come pass the walls. Hauga and Drusa waved their arms, urging her on.

  Her luck did not hold out.

  Dearen felt something sear her cheek and a red fletched arrow buried itself in the ground before her. Instinctively she swerved to the left and heard the whiz of an arrow pass through where her head had been. After a few steps Dearen swerved to the right.

  Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. The word kept repeating through her head and Dearen winced every time she heard the whooshing of an arrow. She was an easy target out in the open, so she kept to her zigzag running to make herself a harder mark for the archers. With each zigzag Dearen saw Northerners coming through the ruined wall firing their red fetched arrows on the run.

  ‘Dearen, turn to your left.’

  Hauga’s voice thundered through her mind and Dearen automatically dodged to her left. A blue blur swept passed on the edge of her vision and she heard a grunt of pain not far behind her. She glanced up ahead and saw Hauga sprinting towards her, firing arrows faster than the eye can see. A shiver of fear slammed through her body at the sight of Hauga’s towering form bearing down on her, his face was alive with rage and his lips were curled back into a snarl showing his large fangs to their most frightening advantage. If Hauga affected her in this way then the Northerners should have stopped in their tracks and vacated themselves in fright.

  Dearen changed direction again and sprinted straight towards Hauga.

  The Dymarki stopped not far from her and fired several arrows in a wide arc around him. Grunts of pain came from behind her as she pulled up panting at Hauga’s side.

  ‘Nice of you to finally join us,’ the Dymarki said with a bristle of whiskers but over the link Dearen felt a huge wave of relief and worry.

  Dearen whirled around, sword still in hand and looked back over the field while all she heard was the gentle hum of Hauga’s bow string and the screaming of the Northerners. There were several men lying dead on the ground riddled with Dymarki arrows but there was still over twenty Northerners charging towards them. They had dropped their bows and drawn swords.

  ‘I think we’d better get back to the others now.’ Dearen tugged at Hauga’s arm, turning him to follow her back to join the others.

  Drusa and Juga opened a space between them to give Hauga and Dearen room. Both spun around and braced themselves against the onslaught that was about to hit them. Sweat ran into the cut on Dearen’s cheek making it sting with pain and she wiped it away with the back of a hand. Her eyes flicked across the Northerners coming towards them. Man for man, both sides looked evenly matched but Dearen did not have time to think more on the odds as the Northerners slammed into them.

  Dearen leaped back as two men crashed into Hauga and with a flash of her sword got a good strike on a man’s exposed side that made him wheel in pain. Before he could parry, Dearen slashed him across the face backhanded and he fell lifeless to the ground in a spray of blood. Another soon joined the dead man as Hauga dispatched his opponent with equal efficiency.

  Dearen turned and parried as a blade flashed towards her and she caught a glimpse of black rimmed eyes and a dark stubbled chin under the man’s helm. They swung, parried, trading blow for blow while he cursed and yelled and Dearen remained silent, flicking away the enemy’s sword with her own until in frustration the man tried a hard side swing that left his right side unguarded. Dearen stepped forward and caught the man’s arm, locking it tightly against her with her left arm and slashed in to catch him solidly in the side. Her blade slid through his flesh like butter and the man stumbled back in shock before collapsing dead to the ground.

  Dearen spun around, looking for the next Northerner and found that she had moved some distance away from the Dymarki line. Not that much of the line existed any more, individual skirmishes had broken out and no one looked to be coming her way. These Bareskins most probably thought her one of their own. She let a small smile cross her lips at that, it might be something she could use to her advantage.

  Suddenly on the edge of the melee, Hauga’s tall form surged forward as he raked a handful of claws across the belly of his opponent. The man screamed and staggered back, dropping his sword and clutching at his stomach. Dearen could see the blood quickly gush through his fingers and sprinkle to the ground. Then the Dymarki sidestepped as another man tried to skewer him from the side. Another Northerner approached Hauga from behind, his sword raised for a stabbing blow to her friend’s lower back.

  Dearen screamed an incoherent cry and sprinted towards them. ‘Hauga, watch out behind!’

  Hauga suddenly leapt to the left just as the man behind him stabbed forward with his sword – stabbed forward into the chest of the man who was distracting the Dymarki. Hauga turned with a roar and slashed the man across the throat with his claws.

  Then as suddenly as it had begun the battle was over. The field was littered with Bareskin dead and sprinkled among them were the white forms of three Dymarki.

  Hauga looked at Dearen, his whiskers splayed and his mouth curved in a Dymarki smile. ‘Thanks, I owe you my back again.’

  ‘It evens the score. You helped me to get here safe.’

  ‘Yes. But you defended my back in the fight before this.’

  ‘Okay, okay, you still owe me one then.’

  Hauga’s grin widened even further.

  ‘I’d like to do better than that. Since looking after each other’s back looks to be habit forming, perhaps we should make it official like.’

  “Huh?” Dearen glanced up to see Hauga’s golden eyes staring down at her with a very serious look. Her obvious confusion made the Dymarki give out a bark of laughter.

  ‘Oh, don’t laugh at me Hauga or you’ll get more than a tongue lashing!’

  ‘I meant no disrespect Dearen,’ Hauga replied, his face suddenly sobered.

  ‘None taken Hauga.’ Dearen glanced down at herself looking at the blood that was spattered all over her clothes. She turned and saw Hauga’s hands covered in drying blood.

  ‘Well. I think whatever you have planned will have to wait until we’ve both had a wash.’

  Hauga looked at his hands a moment before bending down to snatch up a corner of a dead man’s cloak and used it to quickly wipe the blood from his paws

  ‘Dearen, I want us to swear together as Oath Brothers’.

  ‘Oath Brothers?’ Dearen cocked her head quizzically as she turned to regard Hauga.

  ‘Yes, becoming Oath Brothers will make us members of each other’s family and we would go through fire and ice to help each other.’

  Dearen’s eyes nearly filled with tears at Hauga’s words. ‘You would have me as part of your family?’ For the second time in as many days Dearen gaped in astonishment then leapt up as joy surged through her and hugged Hauga tightly about his neck. He offered her the one thing she truly desired - an instant brother and a home.

  ‘When we meet the Northerners again, I would like to die knowing that you have a home.’

  Dearen released her hug and stepped away. ‘Hauga don’t talk like that, it’s bad luck,’ she said in admonishment. ‘But I don’t have a family to offer you in return. As far as I know, I am it.’

  ‘That is all that is needed Dearen.’

  ‘What do we need to do?’ she asked.

  Hauga looked about the field. Dearen followed his glance and saw the rest of their group s
lowly walking about the field checking the bodies to find any who still lived. He looked back at her, excitement clear on his face.

  ‘They do not need us for a little while. We could make our oath now. It really is only a simple thing to make.’

  ‘What do we have to do?’

  Hauga took his water skin and motioned for Dearen to hold out her bloody hands. He then uncorked the skin and splashed water into her cupped palms, he then tipped water into his own hand and corked the skin with his teeth. The water skin then dropped to the ground.

  ‘We’ll wash the muck from our hands first. We cannot have any contamination.’

  Dearen looked at Hauga with raised eyebrows but used the water to wash away the blood and dirt from her hands and then wiped them dry on her trousers. Hauga did the same, leaving his fur relatively clean.

  ‘Now, we have to cut the palm of our left hands.’ Hauga opened his hand and gashed it open with a claw, letting the blood run free to drip to the ground. Dearen drew her knife and ran its sharp edge over her left palm. She held it open and upward next to Hauga’s.

  ‘The left hand carries the true hearts blood that carries the essence of a person’s soul.’ Hauga said by way of explanation.

  Blood flowed freely from both of their palms and dripping to the ground, mingled together in the dirt.

  ‘Now we must join our blood together and speak the sacred words of the First Tongue over the joining. Just repeat them after me.’

  Hauga suddenly flipped his palm and grasped her hand tightly. Dearen could feel the stinging of her cut as they pushed against his. Their hearts blood was combining. Hauga then began to speak and Dearen carefully repeated aloud every strange word after him.

  ‘Eow beon nu flæsc of min flæsc,’

  “Eow beon nu flæsc of min flæsc,”

  ‘Blod of min blod,’

  “Blod of min blod,”