the Acquisition of Swords (the New Age Saga Book 1)

by Timothy Ray

  The word had stung the tall warrior, his saddened face wincing. Frustrated, he brought up his axe and blocked the blow as it fell. He thrust it upwards, unbalancing his attacker, and kicked him hard in the belly. The armor the enemy was wearing was heavy and gave the orc commander little in the way of maneuverability. He tried to catch himself, but his foot got tangled in a body and he crashed to the ground.

  Kore stepped forward and stood over his fallen foe.

  The bond of race caused the orc to hesitate, and Tristan felt sympathy for the gigantic warrior. He saw the sadness in two brothers killing each other and wondered how often that atrocity would occur before this war was over.

  “Si ju n deθ, ˈbɹʌð.ə,” Kore spoke mournfully as he brought his axe down and ended the battle. Their companion’s shoulders slumped as he watched the other orc die. He then leaned forward, grasped his axe with both hands, and yanked it free. He looked at the others and it appeared the large warrior was crying. He shook his head with despair, took a long heavy breath, and stalked away from the carnage.

  Twenty paces north, Kore fell to one knee, the blade of the axe on the ground, his head on the pommel as if in prayer. “Stupid orc,” he heard the large man mutter; then the world went silent.

  Reyna had gone to check on her brother while Merlin had come to stand with the rest of them. “What did that other orc say?” Willow asked, compassionate eyes watching their comrade grieve.

  The mage was quiet for a moment and didn’t appear to hear the question. Then Merlin looked them in the eyes, his face mirroring Kore’s anguish; probably as a result of backlash from their telepathic bond. “He called him a traitor.”

  II

  “Your Majesty!” an aide hollered, as he rushed into the King’s chamber; prepared for the worst.

  Erik pushed aside the drapes hanging from the bed’s canopy. He glared at his aide; his wife still asleep by his side. “You are really against me getting any sleep, aren’t you? What is it now, Jarel?”

  “I apologize my Lord,” the aide stammered, bowing. “But the Princess is missing. Her horse has come back alone from the grasslands, limping, with a rope hanging off one leg. We have searched for any sign of her and can’t find her anywhere.”

  “What?” the Elven King roared, propelling himself out of bed and onto his feet. He pulled on his clothes from a nearby closet and yanked the cloak off the back of the door. “How the hell did that happen? I gave explicit orders to increase security on the walls, to double her bodyguards, and made it quite clear; she was not to leave the castle grounds for any reason! What was she doing riding Shadowraven outside of the castle in the middle of the night? I want those bodyguards questioned by the druids. Tell Revan I want to know every detail immediately!”

  Jarel was cowering before the King’s thundering voice. “The magister is already doing that; as well as having the horse checked by one of his druids.” The man’s head was bowed; prepared for further verbal assaults. His King had given him orders to oversee his daughter’s safety and he had failed. He had children of his own and understood his Lord’s pain.

  If she had gotten out, then who else could get in?

  “I want the reserves mustered! Mobilize the army; I want every able body combing the countryside. Leave no stone unturned!” the King roared.

  Jarel bowed, “Yes, my Lord.” He retreated, escaping the King’s anger before it got worse. A hurricane was forming and he feared for any soul that got swept up in its rage. The rope on the horse’s leg had been no accident. She’d been thrown from her horse and could be lying out there even now in pain or dying.

  Or worse; she could have been abducted.

  The Princess, the heir to the throne of Forlorn, was gone. If anyone doubted the danger they were in; they would no longer. Illusions would be shattered and the Elven Nation would now be marching to war.

  III

  Back in the King’s chambers, Amysta had been awoken by her husband’s yelling, and was standing by his side. “What is it?” She was struggling to get out of bed, her shoulder length black hair was fanned out with a bad case of bed head. She had longer ears, slightly pink and tanned skin, her green eyes penetrating the dim lighting; focused solely on him.

  “Bella snuck out again. Her horse came back without her,” he replied, biting off the words in an attempt not to take it out on her; but there was no one else within striking range.

  “Erik, we will find her, we always do. It’s probably another one of her little games to get your attention,” she comforted, not allowing her own fears to worry him further. Her slim form was moving across the room towards her vanity; in search of a comb. She showed no signs of having born a child, her bosom and rear of smaller size than normal; her muscles well-toned from exercising daily. She arced a thin eyebrow at him as she turned to face him. “And why is it that whenever she gets into trouble, she becomes my daughter?”

  His fury was slow burning, but her words had the opposite of the intended effect, as it only fueled it further. “If this is one of her games… she will never set a foot outside this palace again!” her husband roared.

  She was worried for her daughter, but she understood something that he never had; her spirit would not be caged. No matter how many bars he put around her, she would find a way to break free. She would always follow her heart and give in to its sway; regardless of the consequences. She understood that, because for a time before she met Erik, she had been the same way. It took something as mighty as their love to finally tame her. From what she knew of her daughter, it would take an even stronger force to rein her in.

  “Relax, my King, anger will only cloud your judgment. You will need it and all your resources if you are to find her quickly and bring her home.” She was dressed now and walked slowly to her husband; his fists clenching with rage. She stepped on the tips of her toes and kissed him firmly on the lips.

  He resisted at first, but could not hold out forever. His shoulders slumped and part of the rage departed as he finally kissed her back. “You’re right, as always. It’s not the first time she’s pulled a stunt like this, but with that raging storm and news of that marching army—I thought for once that she’d listen to me. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to do something like this.

  “They say the horse had a rope around one of his legs; how would that be part of some prank?” he paused, his eyebrows searching the ceiling for an answer. “My heart is telling me it’s far worse than Bella seeking attention.” He pulled on his cloak and fastened it around his neck. “I will go make sure my orders are being carried out, then I’ll go out there and find her myself.”

  “Bring her home and don’t be too hard on her!” she called as he retreated out the door, letting it shut on her words before she’d finished.

  When she’d had, trouble conceiving another child, he had begun making preparations for an only child. It took years, but he had changed the old laws stating that only a male could be an heir. While it had done wonders to elevate women’s standing in the Elven society, it had also painted a target on their daughter’s back.

  Even though she had appeared confident that Bella was okay for her husband’s sake; that didn’t mean her heart wasn’t already breaking from the fears circling within. What if one of their rivals had harmed her? Who needed an army of darkness when politics could be just as deadly?

  She walked to the balcony, her feet treading lightly on the cold stone floor. Her arms rested on the railing and she looked up at the full moon with a despairing heart. That was what had drawn her daughter out; for it called to her with unusual strength as well. This had nothing to do with their daughter being rebellious. It was the insane urge to run bare-naked under the full moon light; without a care in the world.

  If she had been able too, she would have joined her.

  She sighed; hoping that this was just like the other times Bella had vanished on them. She prayed to the Gods that Erik would find her quickly and bring her home; hopefully in one piece.

&n
bsp; “Be safe, my daughter,” she whispered to the wind.

  Chapter 11

  Assassin

  I

  Tristan fell to the ground in front of a tree and leaned back; glad to be free of the armor and able to sit somewhat comfortably once more. He was completely exhausted and his ass was sore. Not just from the riding—but from the fall he took during the short battle earlier that afternoon. His body had been running on empty for quite some time; the heat of battle and Willow’s spell the only thing that kept him on his feet. It was only now that they called a halt for the day, that his mind was allowed to drift and sort through what they’d endured.

  No one had been interested in burying the goblin corpses. Reyna had declared quite vehemently that the scavengers would see to the dead. The orc, however, was taken deep into the woods by Kore, and what became of the body no one knew. Injuries had been assessed; Willow had been the only one to sustain a significant injury and Merlin had worked his magic to repair her torn pauldrons.

  Kylee had once again disappeared; presumably to scout ahead. He hadn’t gotten a chance to thank her for saving his life, but had promised himself he’d make a point to the next time they stopped. She hadn’t appeared yet, but he wasn’t worried. After seeing her skills throughout the last couple of days, he knew that she could take care of herself.

  The Guardians were seated with the others around the camp fire; the battle having brought them closer to the rest of the group. Windel was laughing at something Token was saying, but he tuned it out.

  Token had ridden up with the pack horses shortly before they were going to set out again. Jared had told Merlin that there were no more patrols in the area; so it was agreed to have the dwarf travel with them rather than follow behind. The chances of a patrol intersecting their trail and catching the round man unawares was too great a risk. The idea of what would happen to Token if caught by one of those patrols—

  He sat by himself against the tree, reflecting on his near death in the battle, and wondered if he truly belonged with the others. Looking to the campfire and seeing how well the Guardians were fitting in, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the weak link that might get someone killed. Other than the dwarf, they had each handled themselves with distinction; dispatching the goblin scouts as if they were straw dummies tied to posts. He’d killed a goblin with his back turned, got knocked in the head by one of his companions, and couldn’t even finish off the one foe he’d faced alone. The one he’d smashed with a rock was already bloodied by the orc’s axe, all he did was finish the job.

  Hell, even Willow had proved her usefulness; renewing their energy during the fight and healing the small wounds that people had suffered. Why was he here?

  They were camped at the base of Saspe’s peak; three thousand feet of rock and wildlife towering behind his back. You could see the peak from the castle and merchants used it as a landmark to mark their progress. It had been named after the first person in their recorded history that had attempted to climb it. He disappeared shortly after setting out and no one had ever found evidence that he had ever been there. Wild rumors of ghosts, monsters, and curses spread over the nearby settlements. No one had dared to climb it since.

  The solitary peak was surrounded by forest; a silent sentinel overseeing the whole of the kingdom. He had dreamed of climbing it himself when he was younger. He had been drawn to the glory that such a feat would bring him; to distinguish himself from his brother in the eyes of his father. The superstitions had prejudiced the old King and his father had refused to even entertain the thought of letting his son make the treacherous climb. As Tristan aged, he had given up on that dream, and had never even ridden to camp at the peak’s summit. Like his countrymen, it became a habit to avoid the mountain altogether; not due to the stories of monsters or ghosts, but out of fear of failure.

  That seemed to be a running theme in his life and the earlier battle had done little to deter that notion.

  Willow silently padded his way with a bowl in both hands. After attempting to hand him one, she sat down next to him; laying it between his outstretched legs instead. “Meat and potatoes, seems the dwarf is in a generous mood tonight,” she remarked with a grin. She had cause to celebrate; he didn’t. She had proven herself, while he had acted like an untrained squire fumbling around with a sword.

  He continued to be silent as she ate, the smell of the food stirring his stomach—but not his soul. His eyes followed movement in the forest and watched with relief as Kylee stepped into the firelight. She looked calm and he knew that for now, they were safe. He wanted to get up and thank her for saving his life earlier, but his limbs would not respond; apparently believing that it could wait.

  “You’re brooding again,” Willow observed, nudging his elbow.

  Deciding that he might be able to maintain his silence a bit longer with food in his mouth, he slowly picked up the bowl and took a bite. The feeling of being a third wheel, of tagging along only because his life had been threatened, would not leave. If his death hadn’t been a stone that caused a building collapse, would he be here? Would he be lying dead on a slab, his despairing father mourning—but alive?

  The white-haired elf had taken a bowl from the dwarf, who was already taking to his flask and laughing loudly. How much alcohol instead of food had the dwarf brought along? Would they starve while the round man was still gulping down his ale?

  “You know,” he finally said, “I saw something that looked like recognition on your face the first time you saw Kylee. Was I imagining that?”

  Now it was her turn to be quiet.

  After a few moments, when she had cleared her bowl and set it down beside her, she turned to stare at their white-haired ranger; considering how to respond. “I remember hearing rumors when I was a child of a little elven girl that matched her description. Facial tattoos, white hair, kept to herself,” she finally commented.

  “What sort of rumors?” he pushed, wanting to know more about the woman that had saved his life.

  “She was the daughter of one of my father’s maids. She worked in the palace long before I was born and disappeared with her daughter shortly after Jenna was conceived. I know you’ve heard the gossip that my father took lovers on the side; the maid was thought to be one of them.”

  “Do you mean that she could be—?” he started, eyes wide.

  Willow shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t even tell you what happened to them after they left. Like I said, they were rumors. And to be honest, I never paid attention to any of them. My father has always been completely devoted to my mother; it’s hard to imagine him stepping out on her,” she finished, smiling at the ranger as the elf looked up and returned their stares.

  Now that it had been brought up, he couldn’t help but notice similarities between Jenna, Willow, and Kylee. The same slope of head, the shape of the ears and chins, the high cheek bones and penetrating eyes—

  Merlin turned and stared at them. Tristan met his gaze. The mage said something to Jared and the boy nodded in response. Then he rose and motioned for Kylee to follow him over to where the two of them sat.

  Reluctantly, she relented, her eyes on the mountain above as she drew near.

  “You worry about not belonging, then you make these sudden leaps of logic; understanding things others have missed. Our crusade is not just about fighting our way from battle to battle, it’s going to take some detective work, logical reasoning, and a clever mind if we are going to succeed. You still think you don’t belong?” the mage quizzed, drawing a curious glance from his fiancé.

  She hadn’t known the source of his brooding until that moment and her hand gripped his own in response.

  He ignored the mage’s assertion that he mattered just because he used his eyes and saw what anyone else could; had they been looking for it. Instead, he focused on the reason for the mage’s intercession into his thought processes. “I’m right then?”

  Kylee stepped around the mage and faced them directly. “Right abou
t what?”

  “Willow is your half-sister,” Merlin stated with a flat voice.

  Both women were stunned and began talking at the same time. Now that he knew what to look for, he really listened to their voices, and couldn’t help but notice how alike they were. They were thundering questions at the mage, and he held up his hand in an attempt to silence them. How had he missed this before? He’d spent the last ten years memorizing every detail of Willow’s face; he should’ve seen it reflected in someone else’s.

  “My father has never cheated on my mother!” Willow yelled, ignoring the man’s call for quiet. He’d rarely heard her this pissed off and he was grateful that he wasn’t at the receiving end of her rage.

  The older elf would not be silenced either. “My mother would never be someone’s concubine! She had more pride than that!”

  “More pride?” Willow interjected angrily. “So, a King is beneath her?”

  Kylee glared back, eyes flaming. “If you knew her, you’d know that she’d never agree to be anyone’s whore; even a King’s!”

  The two women were about to exchange blows and he got to his feet to place himself between them; wishing he’d left his armor on after all. They fumed at each other and he turned to the awaiting mage. “I think you’d better clear this up before they kill each other.”

  “You’re right,” he nodded at Willow. “Your father has never cheated on your mother.”

  She had the “I told you so” look on her smug face, and he didn’t know if he should whack her shoulder or kiss her. “Then what—?”

  “However,” he cut her off, then looked to Kylee, “he was in love with another woman before the arranged marriage to his future Queen. As a maid, the elven woman would never be accepted by Bordin’s father as a match, especially since she spent her days cleaning out the older elf’s chamber pot. So, they kept their affair silent, and during that time, she gave birth to a baby girl with pure white hair and pale blue diamond birthmarks on her face. That baby was hidden from her father and he had no knowledge that his union had produced a daughter. Otherwise, he would have insisted on marriage; despite his father’s wishes. He would have been exiled for it, but he would’ve done it out of love regardless.