by P D Ceanneir
The prince wore a worried frown; if this was the end, then what about those visions he saw in the Muse Orrinn? What about Tia and her loving smile? What about the Sky Ships and Bleudwed? Thinking about the countess brought a smile to his lips and it was then that he truly knew where his heart belonged.
He felt Tia’s warm body next to him as she nestled in-between himself and Lord Ness.
‘It isn’t too late to change your mind about the Havant Order you know,’ he croaked with a dry mouth.
‘You’re right, I wish I had not thrown my belt away, my skirt is falling off,’ whispered Tia in a trembling voice and the prince smiled at her attempt at humour.
The creatures hissed and whooped loudly. They knew that they had won. Havoc looked around at the small group in a circle with Powyss, Lord Ness and Tia at his shoulders, swords raised. He gave them all a reassuring smile.
‘Promise me, that when the time comes,’ said Tia, ‘you will take my life so I don’t end up being their... whore.’ She swallowed hard.
‘I will not let anyone harm you, Tia,’ said the prince sincerely. Havoc could see a tear form in her eye.
‘No one has ever been as kind to me as you have, my Lord.’
‘Can we save the sentiments for later, please? I’m too young to die,’ said Lord Ness, who himself was a man well over a thousand years of age.
‘Ditto,’ added Powyss.
Havoc chuckled. Both men had lost so much energy that they both looked their age.
Then the horde gave one last screech of triumph and stepped over their piles of their own dead in the rush to get to the female flesh. They raced down a short sandy slope as the defenders prepared for the final battle.
The fiend’s barks and snarls reached a new fever-pitched crescendo; yet, another sound pierced the still night. A whistling sound zipped through the air and three of the Brethac flew backwards off their feet as swan-feathered arrows punched through their chests. The creatures faltered in their attack. Most looked around, baring their teeth as more arrows rained down out of the darkness. One of the Korzac took an arrow in the throat and it spurted a fountain of blood into the air as it flailed on the sandy ground. Whyteman, thought the prince. His hopes rose.
Screams of battle cries issued from the south and the Brethac at that end parted in a disorderly rabble. Velnour and Furran fought side by side, as they hacked a path through towards the Prince’s group, cutting down those in the way with swords or shoving them backwards with their shields. Brethac scattered in confusion as more arrows took those creatures that tried to close the gap and attack the two Paladin-knights from behind. Little Kith appeared out of nowhere and rushed into the mob swinging his large axe from side to side. The damage he created was extraordinary. The sheer strength of his attack lifted the nine foot tall Korzac off their feet followed by fine sprays of blood gushing from their open wounds as the giant’s huge axe sliced through them.
‘It’s the Paladins!’ shouted Mosset as if they did not know already.
Havoc heard the sounds of springs pinging sharply and recognised the noise of Spit Guns firing. He looked around and saw Doctor Zabel behind them on top of the mound of rubble standing amongst the smoking tinder, firing away with a gun in each hand. Gunach, the dwarven Master Smith, was beside him with his two battle axes already stained in blood. He was fending off the creatures and protecting the doctor’s back. The prince ordered the group to put their backs to the mound, while he, Tia, Lord Ness and Powyss protected them all from frontal attacks. On the edge of the slope they saw Linth, Maleene, Jilkyn and Whyteman steadily walking forward as they loosed arrows into the dispersing Brethac.
The creatures panicked and ran into the night, however, they did not go far as their barks and snarls could be heard close by. They had been surprised and were now judging their next move.
‘Am I pleased to see you lot,’ said Havoc, as Velnour and Furran ran to their line and nestled in between Tia and Powyss.
‘Yes, well, the public baths was a let-down and all of the shops are shut, so we thought that you would relieve the boredom, boss,’ said Furran in an offbeat tone. Little Kith sauntered up to them as if there was all the time in the world. His axe dripped blood and brain matter onto the red-streaked sand.
‘Is this anybody’s party? Or can I gatecrash?’ he boomed with a wide smile. The only time he seemed happy was during a battle.
‘Only room for a small one I am afraid,’ said Powyss, to a general ripple of laughter.
Whyteman arrived and ordered Linth and the two Wyverns onto the higher ground next to the doctor and Gunach.
‘I thought I ordered you to return to the ship?’ said a frowning Powyss to the Falesti archer.
‘Yes you did, but we all thought it was a silly order,’ he smiled his youthful smile, as he explained in a matter of fact way. All of the other Paladins nodded and mumbled in agreement. ‘I sent Mirryn back to the ship,’ added the archer, who now spoke to the prince, ‘she seemed to know what I was saying.’
Havoc nodded in understanding.
Powyss looked around at them all as they smiled back, then he shrugged.
‘Bugger it! We could do with the Cybeleion about now.’
‘Watch out, they’re coming back!’ shouted Gunach from above them on the mound of broken stones.
Sounds of running feet saturated the night as the Brethac circled the group. Havoc and his men kept the line steady, each man gripping their weapons with both hands ready to hack and lunge. The white bodies of the creatures came into view as they passed by the burning fires and the bodies of their fallen comrades, mouths agape, and long sharp claws at the ready.
Another light lit up from the sky to reveal the field of battle, six orange balls of fire travelling at tremendous velocity and in a completely horizontal line, split the darkness above them. The light behind the missiles lit up a huge black hulking thing in the sky and then several loud bangs reached their ears. The missiles whistled and roared at the same time, hitting a cluster of the Brethac a hundred feet from the beleaguered defenders and exploded in a shower of hot shrapnel. Dismembered limbs and mashed bodies flew into the air at the point of impact and scorching hot sharp pieces of metal cut down dozens of the monsters as they stared in disbelief as the Cybeleion zoomed over their heads. Havoc was sure he heard Captain Danyil’s whoop of joy as the Sky Ship passed above their position.
‘They’re running!’ said Lord Ness with gladness in his voice. Sure enough, the Brethac Korzac gave up on Havoc’s group and were forced to flee as the Cybeleion turned back around and fired more cannon shots into their midst as they streamed away into the safety of the ruined city.
Presently, the captain ordered a return to pick up the weary assembly of jubilant survivors. Havoc breathed a sigh of relief and was surprised to feel Tia’s hand clutch his. He looked into her smiling face. While the rest of the group cheered up at the returning hulk of the Quest Ship, the prince and the Havant hugged.
‘If you wish to punish me for my part in the storm or my association with the Brethac Order, then I will not hinder you, your Highness,’ said Tia. ‘I know I have made mistakes. I deserve your wrath.’
Havoc held her away from him at arms length. She was dirty and bedraggled, scarred, bruised and drenched in blood. She was in this state because she risked her life to aid him in the rescue of the hostages. The prince agreed with Lord Ness’s earlier comment, Tia had done her duty as a Rawn first, and this made Havoc’s conscious clear concerning the Havant.
He smiled down at her. ‘The only punishment I will mete out on you, Mistress Tia, is to see how well you amend your mistakes. We go in search of the Great Orrinn and conquer any danger we may face on the way. You’re a member of this crew whether you like it or not, you look after them and they will look after you.’
A small tear formed in her eyes, but she smiled back at him. Lord Ness watched them with a worried frown.
Chapter 24
Armour of the Gods
On
e Month Later
Serena waited for Fowyn as he paced up and down the bow of the Flagship Vergenion, his tall slim body made the white robe he wore look like a thin pillar of salt. His hair, remarkably similar in colour to white gold, cropped short with a V shaped fringe and a beard of fine fair hair that made his face look very handsome. Olive skinned and light sapphire eyes gave him the look of some foreign desert mystic; his cold scrutiny of individuals always sent a shiver down her spine. Nevertheless, she had a fondness, maybe even a crush on the man.
‘Do you believe in the prophecy, Serena?’ he asked her.
‘You mean the Prophecy of the Blacksword?’
‘No, that prophecy is inevitable. I mean the Apocalyptic Prophecy.’
The Apocalyptic Prophecy was taught to all females when they entered into the Havant Priesthood. Serena knew it word for word, but never thought much beyond the implications they described. She told Fowyn so with a shake of her head.
‘I do,’ he said. ‘Soon there will come a time when the Firstborn will rise and reclaim the world.’ He stopped pacing and gripped the starboard-side railing. Beside the flagship of the Vallkyte fleet was her sister ship, the Deucalion, her sixty foot hull was made of balsam wood and strengthened with silver birch, giving her a white covering. From this distance Serena could see the crew going about their duties under the bleached horizontal sail.
It had been two weeks since their departure from Dulan-Tiss harbour and the other four Sky Ships separated three days ago to broaden their search. Admiral Hurnac had transferred his command from the flagship and moved to the Lartchion, the largest of the six vessels that were currently looking for the quest ship. The Lartchion, like the Kirrilion, Azzartion and the Trillion, were Sonoran designed and built. Bigger, faster and with a larger armament than the two Vallkyte ships, however, their manoeuvrability in battle was limited and none of them had the new-fangled cannons that were so prominent on the Cybeleion.
Fowyn had been referring to the monolith that they had discovered in the ancient ruins of the Assassi citadel, which they had found several days ago. The Apocalyptic Prophecy was plain for all to see and much more. It would take him many days to interpret the Skrol notes that he took. Elsewhere among the ruins were signs of battle, but no bodies; had the Cybeleion been here? They remained until noon and found nothing more within the ruins.
‘I must finish the translations of the Skrol we found,’ said Fowyn, drumming his fingers on the railing. Serena now realised that the Ri was always on edge, impatient and fidgety, more so now since they left the Assassi Citadel. ‘Think what more I can discover about the Brethac.’ He stomped off to his quarters, leaving the Havant alone at the bow.
She pulled out her own Lobe Stone and watched it for ten minutes before it gave a single pulse of light. She smiled, Tia’s stone survived the storm, it was moving away from them at a great distance, but still moving. King Kasan’s concern about the storms ineffectiveness to destroy the quest ship was well founded.
She resisted the urge to contact Tia and placed the stone back into its pouch.
‘I will see you soon, my dear,’ she whispered to herself. A grin broadened on her cold features.
Al Mullach thanked his god for the deliverance of two of his people’s women folk from the clutches of the Brethac devils. Although current events left him in no doubt about the token gift of the women by the prince and the subtle reprimand for kidnapping some of the crew of his ship was harsher than he could bear. The Prince of the Roguns banned his people from the Assassi lands by his royal order.
‘But noble sir,’ Al Mullach had begged the prince as his magic ship took him to his own lands. ‘The Kaleeth Eba has travelled these lands since the time of my ancestors, over a thousand years ago. It is because of the Brethac that we have to sacrifice the women to appease them and give us safe passage.’
‘These lands!’ snapped the prince, ‘belong to the Assassi, my people, and have been so for more than three thousand years!’
The prince had written a decree, translated by the good doctor, stating that the ban took immediate effect. No one was to set foot on Assassi lands again. Pain of death would be meted out on those who disobeyed. The prince charged Al Mullach with taking the decree to the other tribes to enforce the ban. He also charged him with patrolling the border of the ancient Oasis; he was not to let anyone in, or anything out. Al Mullach agreed to the honour, though death would have been more welcome if he had to face his rival leaders and the Brethac in the night. Besides, the convincing argument was not what the prince said to him, but what he showed him.
Those black eyes would haunt his dreams for ever more.
The wind whipped up more sand. It made a howling noise as it flowed through the narrow streets of the flat-roofed homes. The Kaleeth Eba township of Wadi Jazsh was not as large as others the Cybeleion had visited. This town lay on the outskirts of Kaleeth lands but still within the immense borders of the ancient Assassi territories.
In the distance, the Quest Ship sat in the entrance to the long river valley, the minor sand storm obscured its bulk. Prince Havoc adjusted his green hooded rain cape over his armour to block out the annoying gusts of grain that now covered him in fine dust.
He glanced at Lord Ness, who nodded solemnly. Havoc sighed and then turned towards Al Mullach’s translator; a short leather-faced old man called Guiro.
‘Let’s see it then,’ ordered the Prince. Guiro gave him several short nods and indicated the best path to take. He led the Prince and the Ri, along with their two captives, up a steep mountain slope to some more of those ancient white marble ruins that were scattered all around this area, indicating to him that the Assassi influence was just as powerful here as it was in other townships in this valley. The heart of the Assassi Citadel was over four hundred miles away from the spot where he now stood...
...Sixteen days ago they had arrived in the walled fort of Oasis Virach. Here they found a large market, the only one of its size this far into the interior of the desert. To the Prince’s dismay, as he walked through the busy bazaar he discovered a menagerie of caged animals. In one huge iron-barred cage, he found two Vul’yoi. The creatures showed no fear or anxiety at their incarceration; they watched the passing shoppers with a mixture of dumb innocence and wide-eyed curiosity.
When Lord Ness found out about the Vul’yoi he flew into a rage, which surprised the prince, because his former master always showed a calm demeanour in any situation. To the Ri, caging such innocent beings was amoral, regardless of what they become at night, even in their Korzac form they were far too dangerous to be left in a populated oasis. He wasted no time in storming into the Virach Colium, a building at the edge of the oasis, which housed the Council of Elders, the authority in the town. The thousand-year power of the council was shattered on the day the Ri barged into their meeting unannounced and demanded the Vul’yoi captives to be handed over to him.
That night, Furran and Hexor, as ordered by Lord Ness, put a Spit Gun bolt each into the heads of the Vul’yoi after they changed into Korzac.
In the morning, to everyone’s surprise, the two Vul’yoi were sitting up in their cage totally ignoring the fact that they had two inches of Spit Gun arrows protruding from their foreheads. As the day wore on the bolts fell out and the wounds disappeared totally.
‘That explains everything,’ remarked Powyss, as he looked into the cage later that day. ‘They’re immortal in their female form. You could kill all the Korzac, but they will return to life in the morning.’
‘Now what do we do with them?’ Hexor asked.
In the end, they chained them inside the hold of the Cybeleion...
...Now, as Havoc looked amongst the ruins, Guiro gesticulated with frantic pointing towards the end of the broken path. The Prince followed, so did the Ri, who tugged to two lengths of chains, indicating the Vul’yoi girls to follow, which they did, obediently...
...After the events in the Assassi Citadel Lord Ness spent much time in his rooms deep in
study. Eventually, the story of the Brethac and the Assassi became clearer. Havoc helped the Ri in deciphering the Skrol rubbings, which made the understanding of the symbols easier. However, there was some level of difficulty in deciphering them due to their arrangement inside a cryptic code. When they did uncover the key to the code everything fell into place and what they found was very interesting.
‘It seems to me,’ said the Ri, as he, Tia and Havoc sat in the Ri’s quarters sharing the chore of interpreting the symbols, ‘that the remaining Assassi were mostly a small group of Elementals.’
‘Like Waternymphs you mean?’ Havoc asked in a low voice and the Ri nodded. He gave Tia a quick glance. She either ignored or did not know of the Sonoran Queen’s true name for her exceptional ability over the water element, because she did not look up from her notes when the prince and his master spoke.
Havoc looked in her direction as well. The beautiful girl had allowed her hair to grow longer and she now wore the clothes of the Wyvern Filial, who had brought her into their clutches paying her much respect for her part in rescuing the other girls from the Korzac. She brushed her straight brown hair away from her eyes as she studied the symbols in front of her. Lord Ness, who saw her as a good student, welcomed her involvement in their work. Certainly, her grasp of the sub-conscious language was far better than any he had ever met before, apart from the prince. Havoc realised that Lord Ness and Tia had much in common, both came from a poor background and worked hard to become Rawn Masters.
The prince remembered the days after the battle with the Brethac and Tia’s final acceptance into the crew. They had headed north and stopped on several occasions to allow for repairs to the ship. The damage to the port side of the Cybeleion now healed, but still bore the scar from where the storm’s lightning bolt had struck it. One of the aft masts had been re-grown quickly as the Wyvern sung to the Choylorran Tree and the starboard outrigger mended en route. The ship was currently sailing with her backup canvas outrigger. The canopy sail, which made up the horizontal sail, was the first to mend. The quickness of the repairs meant that Captain Danyil could come to their rescue in the citadel just in time and take them far away from the danger within the ruins. They had returned the captive native girls to their tribe and released Al Mullach with many assurances from him that he would keep his end of the bargain. In the meantime, he gave over the services of his translator, Guiro, to aid the prince; Guiro knew all the languages of the desert tribes. He would also prove useful in bartering with traders for the ship’s supplies.