The Five Warriors (The Four Worlds Series Book 1)

by Ford, Angela J.

  The doors swung open readily enough, welcoming them into a small room. But instead of seeing Crinte they found hard eyes glittering at them behind a mail hood. The creature rose and moved forward, lifting a long sword. As it drew nearer, Alaireia and Legone could see it was a Gaslink wearing a garment of mail tightly around its boney body. It swung its sword quickly, forcing the two to back away towards the balcony. Alaireia twirled her dagger, aimed it at the Gaslink’s head, and let it fly. It slammed into the Gaslink’s head and bounced off its mail armor, spinning away to lie undamaged on the castle floor. Legone, unable to draw an arrow in time, dropped his bow and pulled another short dagger from his belt. He moved forward aggressively as Alaireia backed away towards the balcony railing. She drew her sword slowly, feeling its power like putty in her hands. The gold line glimmered as she held her sword high with one hand. The Gaslink turned, its glittering eyes drawn by the hypnotic light of the sword. Alaireia held the sword out over the balcony edge as the creature moved towards it. When it reached the edge Alaireia pulled her sword towards herself, the Gaslink whirled but Alaireia was faster. She swung her sword into the Gaslink’s shoulders, forcing it backward over the edge of the balcony. It teetered on top for a brief second, then fell over the edge with a whoosh, too surprised to cry out. Legone nodded at her admiringly, sheathing his daggers and reaching for his bow. The two moved into the darkness of the castle.

  “He’s not here,” Alaireia whispered as they stood in the room, looking around.

  “Let’s move inward,” Legone suggested. “What does the Clyear say?”

  Alaireia reached for it but a rustle stayed her hand.

  “It is only the wind,” Legone confirmed, but an arrow was ready in his bow.

  Alaireia led the way to the door, sheathing her sword when she reached it. She tried the handle but it was locked. She motioned for Legone to stay back as she forced the lock and cracked open the door. Peeking her head out, she scanned the dark hall for signs of life. Even as she looked she realized they were too low. Crinte was trapped at least two floors above them. She turned to tell Legone but a tiny movement caught her eyes in the shadows. Reaching for her dagger, she moved forward. A shadow leaped to the other side of the hall but she could not see glittering eyes, nor was its body grotesquely large like the Garcrats. She inched forward, holding tight to the wall as the shadow moved towards her. A shaft of light from the open door lit up the hall for a moment as Legone exited the room, his arrow pointed at the darkness.

  Alaireia halted, waiting, barely daring to breathe as she stood, momentarily blinded. Legone, paces away from her, froze as well. A voice spoke out of the blackness in hushed tones. “Alaireia?” it whispered skeptically. “Is that you?”

  “Yes?” she answered, hoping it was whom she thought it was. “It is I.”

  The shadow drew nearer and she saw it was indeed Crinte, looking as if nothing had happened. His naked blade was held firmly in his hands and from what she could see of his eyes they were dark and determined. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming for you, and Legone is here with me.”

  Crinte moved closer to the two, relief suddenly flooding over his face. “Of course you would be here.” He shook his head in wonder. “But come now, we must be away. I had to slay ten Gaslinks floors above us on my way out. As soon as they find out, well, it will be difficult to leave.”

  “It’s back out the window then.” Legone turned back to the room.

  Alaireia moved to Crinte until she was close enough to grasp his shoulder. “Never disappear on us like that again.”

  Crinte just looked calmly at her. “I think this had to happen, Alaireia. I have news.”

  Marklus and Starman stood beneath the reaching branches of a tall pine tree. Its body was decaying, leaves of evergreen did not grow on its boughs, and every now and then, branches snapped off into the forest. Starman jumped each time the pine needles shifted and sticks crackled underfoot. He turned to Marklus in frustration. “How long does it take?” Starman fretted. “Should we go after them?”

  “No.” Marklus shook his head. “They will return. Just wait. If I hear anything odd we will go.”

  “I wish I had the vision of the Clyear,” Starman complained as the wind picked up, howling eerily through the barren treetops. “Waiting here is the worst part.”

  “I hear something.” Marklus pricked his ears and moved forward. There was a whooshing sound and something struck the bushes below.

  Marklus and Starman looked at each other and edged forward hesitantly, glancing up at the wickedly tall tower from time to time. The wind continued to shriek above them like a dark monster awakening, chasing its prey.

  “It’s only a Gaslink,” Marklus said when they reached the place where the shadow had fallen. The creature lay face up in the bushes, its legs bent awkwardly from the fall. Its lifeless eyes still glittered hideously.

  Starman shivered, moving away from it. “They must have climbed up this way.” He drew his sword, more for comfort than for anything else, and strained his neck looking up, concerned about what was happening in the silent tower.

  Marklus followed his gaze. “Do you hear that?” he whispered. Within the walls a chant had started with corresponding feet pounding on the stone floors. Grwahoo! Grwahoo! Grwahoo! Drums began sounding in beat to the chanting and pounding feet.

  Starman stood still to listen. “Yes.” He turned questioning eyes to Marklus.

  Marklus yanked Starman down behind the bushes by the tower walls not a moment too soon. A horn blasted from far above them, and the great black doors of the tower were thrown open. The chanting grew louder as an army of Gaslinks poured out of the tower. There were no traces of the ungainly Garcrats they had fought in the Sea Forests of Mizine, or even the kind of Gaslinks they had fought in Trazame. These Gaslinks were expertly advanced and covered from head to toe in thick mail. On their heads they wore dark, rounded helmets, and in their hands carried long black spears.

  “It’s the army,” Marklus whispered as he and Starman peered through the bushes. “The army Ackhor was worried about. They must be heading to invade Mizine.”

  They watched, helpless, as the black sea of Gaslinks marched forth, an unending snake slithering down the roads that led south.

  “We need to stop them,” Starman whispered urgently.

  “Them?” Marklus pointed as the marching continued, “Yes, that is why we are here in this land. To stop them once and for all.”

  “No,” Starman said as he shook his head. “I mean right now. At the rate they are marching they will reach Mizine long before we reach the Great Water Hole. Look!”

  “How?” Marklus looked at him, confused.

  “I don’t know,” Starman replied, at a loss for words. “But…but…there has to be a way!”

  “I will tell the Zikes to warn the people of Mizine. We have armies, we can destroy them,” Marklus said confidently, but he doubted it as he closed his eyes and called. Zikes!

  Starman shook his head, frustrated. “Mizine will be swallowed by them and here we sit, unable to obliterate them. This does not feel like war, it feels like a slaughter.”

  “It is,” Marklus agreed. “That’s why we’re here and why we need Crinte. We are going to stop them.”

  Starman said nothing, feeling helpless and miserable. At last he understood the drive and urgency the others felt, the fate of the world weighing on their shoulders. The longer he spent with them the more his eyes were opened. Selfishness had faded and even as he hid, he knew he would do whatever it took to protect them. They depended on him and the strength of his sword, and in exchange he cared about them as if they were family. He felt the anticipation, daring to hope that Crinte was still alive and would be joining them shortly. His sorrow mirrored Legone’s when he realized he might never see his homeland again. Marklus, he had yet to understand. At times the Cron seemed impulsive and excitable, other times calm and serious. He was like Crinte, a leader in a way, yet one who had
seen much joy and sorrow. Most of all, every time Starman looked at Alaireia he felt something he had never felt before. He was in awe of her skill. She was unlike any female from his country, wild, independent, and taking control. She allured him, pulling him in, forcing the comfortable but humdrum expectancies of life to fade.

  “As soon as the army disappears we need to go up and find them,” Marklus was saying, pulling Starman’s thoughts back to the creepiness of the night.

  “Look, Marklus look!” he whispered, pointing upwards.

  Marklus lifted his head to the tower wall. High above him he could see three figures, quickly moving down the walls. “Oh.” He grasped Starman’s shoulder harder than he intended as he breathed a sigh of relief. “They are coming.”

  It was only a few minutes later that Alaireia hopped to the ground, almost tripping over Marklus and Starman who leaped out of the way, motioning for her to stay quiet as the stream of troops continued down the road. Crinte was next to jump to the ground. His face lit up as he greeted Starman and Marklus, reaching out to embrace them. Once Legone was safely on solid ground again Crinte turned to them, his eyes gold with iron determination. “There is news I have for your ears but unfortunately my trip through the portal has delayed us. We must hasten with all speed to the Esife Peaks. You have done well without me. I know it has been hard and there may be harder times ahead of us. But remember, we will endure.” He looked them in the eye, each of them in turn, reminding them of why they were there. “I have faith in each of you. Well done.” Finally he glanced back at the army marching towards the south. “Let us be away from this foul tower.”

  He ran off, leading the way into the woods towards the west.

  A beautiful morning graced the land when they stopped at last. The pine trees had thinned into a brown road covered with overhanging boulders and rocks, winding away towards the southwest. Crinte, spotting a shallow cave, led them there to hide for the day. Pressing themselves against the cool rock out of the beaming sunlight they crossed their legs and ate the first meal, all the while looking at Crinte expectantly.

  “I understand now how the remnants of portals work,” he began. “When it first happened, I don’t think I realized it until I was standing in a room, alone. It was then I knew and my first thoughts were with you all. But I realized you will always know your way, and it was up to me to find my way back to you. It took some time though. The portal had thrown me into a space between rooms, but eventually the light helped me crawl through space until I discovered a way out. In the meantime I listened. At first I thought, against all hope, I had reached the Great Water Hole. But soon I learned I was in the Srineye Tower in Freedex, their base in Asspraineya. Gaslinks were intending to leave shortly for Mizine, the vast army you saw marching out. They have built a bridge over the Dejewla Sea and intend to surprise the armies of Mizine with it. Marklus, you must send the Zikes to warn them. If that bridge can be destroyed before the army of Gaslinks gets the chance to use it, they will have to slow down while it is rebuilt. That will give us time on our end to reach the Great Water Hole. Now.” Crinte’s voice grew low. “I discovered the wisps of smoke that follow us through the air are Gims.”

  “We saw one,” Marklus interrupted. “Right after you fell through the portal it materialized before us and killed three giants in one stroke.” He shuddered.

  Crinte narrowed his eyes. “The good news is, if we destroy its Boleck, the object that keeps the spirit in this realm, the Gim will be trapped within it, no longer able to transform or harm us. Now, get some rest, we’ll move again tonight.”

  “Wait.” Marklus peered out of the shallow cave. “I hear marching, headed our way.” He hurled himself out of the way as an arrow struck the ground where his nose had been seconds ago. “They have seen us!”

  AMBUSHED

  Legone and Marklus stood, grabbing their carved bows as Crinte quickly called out orders. Legone squinted his blue eyes against the bright sunlight as he peered out of the cave, attempting to locate the archer. He pulled an arrow taut in his bowstring, his strong fingers holding it sure and steady before letting it fly. The dark shoulder of a creature disappeared from view as Legone’s arrow flew wide.

  “Aim for the boulders on the high ground to the west. Keep to the rocks. They will provide shelter as we outrun this army.” Crinte called. “Alaireia and Swift, go first, we will cover you. Stay low and move fast. We need to throw them off our trail as quickly as possible. Head west, and whatever you do, keep going.”

  Alaireia swung around to Legone. “Daggers.” She pulled twin blades out of her black belt.

  One side of Legone’s serious face turned up in what could almost be called a smile as he nodded knowingly at her. He carefully secured his bow onto his back and moved towards the entrance of the cave. “Marklus, you have my back?”

  Marklus lifted his bow, a blue arrow nocked and ready to fly. “You know it. My aim is much improved.”

  Without hesitation Legone shot out of the low hanging cave into brilliant, blinding sunlight. Brown dust gave way under his pounding feet and loose gravel slid downhill as he made his way uphill towards the overhanging boulder Crinte had pointed out. He heard a zing behind his ears and out of the corner of his eye saw a thick black arrow whizz past him, too close for comfort. Not even bothering to slow his speed he lifted an arm and threw his dagger as hard as he could at one of the archers. It sailed through the air, flipping twice before landing squarely in the Gaslink’s forehead. It collapsed face down on the ground; the bow snapped roughly in half as the Gaslink landed atop it. Legone gained the hill, barely slowing down as he leaped up the crest. An arrow smashed into the ground at his feet. He twirled his dagger dangerously in the air as he located his mark then hurled it in answer. It glinted off a rock and slammed through a creature’s head. A few feet behind him Alaireia dashed up the hill. A Gaslink sprung off a high rock, boney arms outstretched as it aimed to land on her. Alaireia threw her knees into the dirt, lifted her daggers and slashed its exposed throat as it collapsed on her. She pulled herself free before she could become too deeply entangled and kicked the quivering body away from her. By the time she made it up the hill, Legone was crouched under the rock.

  “Right.” He nodded at her in approval. “I am going up to the top for a better vantage point. Cover down here until the others arrive.”

  Alaireia drew her long sword, feeling a thrill of excitement as the golden line began to gleam in the sunlight. “Go,” she said. She swung her sword, listening to it whistle a warning through the warm air. “We can take them.” She felt her eyes grow dark and the bloodlust roar through her veins. A few arrows skidded to a halt by her feet and she lifted her blade.

  Legone scrambled ten feet up in the air to the top of a misshapen rock. Its peak was flat and burned his bare fingertips when he touched its surface. He felt a twitch of distress and lay low for a moment, gathering his bearing, making out where the other archers were. Sure enough there were two behind him perched on top of higher rocks, aiming at the shallow cave the five had thought they could take refuge in. Several feet in front of him, nearer the cave where Crinte, Marklus, and Starman were biding their time, were two more. A fifth was to the side of him, taking aim at Alaireia. Legone stealthily pulled a blue tipped arrow from his quiver. He felt the pointed shaft slip through his fingers as he placed it in his bow. Slowly he moved into a crouch, his fingers covering the markings on his bow. He loosed the arrow, hearing it zing off through the still air. Before it even hit his mark he had another and took aim at one of the two archers behind him. The first arrow had only just met its mark by the time he loosened a third arrow, hearing the cry as it pierced home. By the time his fifth arrow had flown, Crinte, Marklus, and Starman were halfway to the rock. Legone lay flat again, examining the landscape, his chin burning as he pressed it against the rock. To the south he could make out a road, and far ahead, marching down it, was the black army heading towards Mizine. Towards the west great boulders shot up here and there
, providing plenty of hiding places not only for them but also for the Gaslinks. Not waiting for the others, Legone turned and swung down the rock, moving westwards towards another.

  Alaireia paused as she saw Legone move forward. Three Gaslinks darted out of their hiding places towards him, but his arrows were faster. Realizing she should be with him, Alaireia moved forward just before Crinte, Marklus, and Starman caught up with her. As she ran across the loose ground she could see more Gaslinks leaving their hiding places, running towards her. Part of her wanted to stand still and fight them, but she knew Crinte would want them to keep moving, out of the madness. Two Gaslinks ran out in front of her, their stretched faces washed out and oddly pale in the sunlight. They spun battle axes, barely the length of hand to elbow as they barreled down on her. Alaireia gauged her odds. Killing Gaslinks was not about stabbing vital organs, it meant breaking bone to the point the creature could not survive, which was much harder. Recalling the buoyancy of the invincibility spell she swung her sword with all her strength. It sliced through the air with a wild scream, shrieking through mail and bone and flesh. Two heads rolled to the ground, empty eyes staring at her before they grew cloudy with nothingness. If her display was at all intimidating, it did not show in the demeanor of the other Gaslinks. They streamed on towards her, sure to overwhelm her by sheer numbers. Ahead of her Legone leaped from rock to rock with a steady stream of blue floating behind him. Although the heights were perilous there were few Gaslinks with bows. If there were more they must have kept marching with the army. As Alaireia reached the shadow of a rock, a Gaslink immediately leaped out at her swinging a battle axe. She grabbed its arm and slammed it into the rock, forcing it to drop its heavy weapon and reach for a dagger. Just as quickly Alaireia snatched up the heavy axe and drove it in the Gaslink’s shoulder, pinning it against the rock. She sheathed her sword, and using the Gaslink as a stair step, swung her way to the top of the boulder.