The Shadow of War

by Bryan Gifford

  “Their deaths are on your hands,” Iscarius said to the crowd. “Now, I am going to be needing new captains.”

  Seraphel

  The Warriors huddled together at the foot of a tree, shivering as the dew settled like a frost on their skin. There could be no fires or tents tonight.

  Cain looked around at the remnants of his army, every eye cast to the ground. An occasional sob or moan broke the silence. He buried his face in a hand.

  How could he keep the Alliance together after this? They’d lost thousands of men, lost Inveira, and now Erias burned down around them. How many of the other countries suffered similar fates?

  How could he expect this poor band of broken, tired men to keep fighting after they’d already lost so much?

  Here, in the cold quiet of a dark autumn night, had they finally come to the end?

  A laugh burst through the trees. Cain snapped his attention to a group in the distance. Their cackling drew the attention of every surrounding soldier.

  Cain stood and worked his way through rows of wounded men until he reached the group of prattling soldiers.

  “That’s bullshit!” one soldier exclaimed as he cast a card down on a growing pile between them, laughing as another man grabbed for the cards.

  A man with bright red hair grinned. “What’s bullshit is your luck today! But it’s true. I fought the bastards off from a mountain of their dead!”

  “And let me guess, you saved the city singlehandedly, right?” another soldier asked.

  “You’re damn right I did!” He slammed a card in the grass between them. “And don’t you forget it!” He took a swig of his wineskin and offered it to the Iscara who sat nearby, his back to them. The Iscara shook his head. “Suit yourself.”

  The soldiers fell silent as one finally noticed Cain. The red-haired soldier turned to him with a burp.

  “Silence is a virtue you do not seem to possess,” Cain muttered. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. We are quiet. Or we are found and killed… which do you prefer?”

  The man stood and glared down at Cain, his steely eyes inches before Cain’s face. “I prefer the option given to me by someone above me. Seeing as you’re down there…” His men laughed at this.

  Cain nodded. “I am the leader of these men, and while you are with us, you will obey my orders. We stay quiet and stay put until our wounded are tended to.”

  “I’ve heard about you.” The man grinned. “A soldier from Kaanos with a big sword and a bigger ego. You have no right to lead. Look around you; you’re a long way from home, Cain Taran.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Kaelin Vinata, son of Heral, captain in the Morven Fifth Infantry.”

  “You are right, Kaelin, son of Heral. I’m not the great leader everyone thinks I am. I am not the might behind the Alliance. I don’t know how to hold this army together, and I don’t even know how to fight the Acedens, let alone win this war. But I will fight until I can bleed no more. So, you can stay and fight with the rest of us… or you can run and save your own hide.”

  The two locked eyes for a moment. Kaelin snorted and stepped back, then waved for his fellows. The group brushed past Cain and joined a nearby ring of soldiers. Cain turned to the Iscara.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” the Knight said, back still turned to him. “I would be more inclined to talk, however, if you took your hand off your knife.”

  Cain lifted his hand from the dagger at his belt. “What is an Iscara doing here?”

  The man chuckled and stood. “You start with that question? Why not ‘what’s your name?’ Or ‘how are you today?’”

  “It’s my duty to question, especially after all that has happened.”

  The man inclined his head. “Rightfully so. My name is Mithaniel Fallon. I was an Iscara… but let’s just say my eyes were opened.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “Ah, not one to mince words, are you? I helped organize the counterattack on the Acedens after they captured Morven. We saved hundreds, maybe even thousands of men that would have otherwise perished. And I saved you and your soldiers, did I not?”

  Cain stared into the pale eyes of the Iscara, almost translucent in the night. “I can’t trust a man in the armor of my enemy.”

  Mithaniel smirked. “Enemy…”

  Cain grunted, pointing at the serpent etched on the man’s armor. “Aye, enemy. I’ve seen the evil deeds committed under that crest.”

  “Fear not. I keep this armor only for it is far stronger than the finest your smiths could ever forge. See for yourself.” He beat his breastplate to challenge Cain.

  “No Andred forged pot metal can beat Kaanosi steel,” Silas said as he approached with Adriel and Isroc.

  “Well,” Mithaniel started with a smile before Silas cut him short.

  “I don’t care about anything you have to say. You’re an Iscara.”

  “I was. But not anymore.” He motioned for them to sit.

  “Whose side were you on?” Cain asked, not moving. Did this Iscara really think he’d trust so easily after Malecai’s betrayal?

  Mithaniel paused. “Pardon?”

  “You know what I mean. Whose side were you on, Abaddon’s or Iscarius’? Iscarius was an Iscara, wasn’t he? He betrayed Abaddon, killed him. Did you fight for Abaddon or against him?”

  Mithaniel glanced at the other Warriors who moved to stand beside Cain. They watched him, waiting. “Iscarius. He was my friend.”

  “Why did you betray him?”

  “Have you met him?” His smirk died beneath Cain’s stare. “Let’s just say my views ended up not aligning with his. Like everyone else, I thought betraying Abaddon was the right move, but after the things Malecai did… look, we don’t have time for this now. We need to keep moving before the Acedens send troops after us.”

  Cain allowed himself to be diverted. “You were in Morven during the attack?”

  “I’d arrived with the main Aceden force about a week ago. The city was in a weakened state after Abaddon’s siege, and Iscarius knew it would be ripe for the taking. We all but sailed right in. Took Morven by surprise, routed their defenses, and killed King Darius. I waited until the Acedens took control of the city, then slipped away to find the Alliance resistance cells that still fought in pockets throughout Morven.

  “I did what I could to help the Alliance, but it was too little too late. Your arrival gave us the chance to mount a surprise attack and save our skins. Still, we lost many men…”

  Cain couldn’t trust the man, of course, but there was something in his voice, the way it tightened as he spoke of their losses. It almost sounded like he cared.

  Perhaps Mithaniel was right, now wasn’t the time to question loyalty. The Iscara had killed countless Acedens and had helped the Alliance survive the fall of Morven. Cain could afford to let the man into their ranks for now, if only to keep an eye on him.

  “Look,” Mithaniel continued, “I know you don’t trust me, that’s fine, but I want what’s best for Tarsha, same as you. We can’t keep running around the wilderness, the Acedens will hunt us down.”

  “And you have a better idea?”

  “Seraphel.”

  Isroc suppressed a laugh. “Please, that place isn’t worth shit anymore.”

  Mithaniel shrugged. “That may be true, but I managed to persuade a few soldiers retreating Morven to make for Seraphel. With any luck, they’ll be there. I know it’s not much, but it’s something.”

  “Seraphel. What is it?” asked Cain.

  “It’s an old stronghold about a week’s march east from here,” Isroc replied. “Every Eriasan soldier is briefed during their training that if the capital were ever compromised that they would regroup at Seraphel.” He shrugged. “Of course, everyone knew Morven could never fall so most probably forgot about any contingency plans.”

  “It’s our only option,” the Iscara said. “There’s hundreds of miles of wilderness in every direction save the few towns and cities t
hat are likely Aceden owned by now. Seraphel is the only safe place for us. We can regroup, gather supplies, and plan our next course of action. Hopefully, some of our men will be waiting for us there.”

  “How do we know the Acedens don’t already have Seraphel too?” Adriel asked.

  Mithaniel shrugged. “We don’t know.”

  “It’s a risky move,” Isroc mused. “But it’s possible the Acedens wouldn’t have bothered taking Seraphel. It’s remote, difficult to climb, and hard to supply. They’d likely focus their efforts on taking more valuable targets. But…” He shook his head. “No, I think we should go to Braygon first.”

  “Your father’s stronghold?”

  “Yes, near the west coast. My father’s West Riders never made it to the siege of Morven. Five thousand cavalry lie in wait at Braygon. We can go there now. Three weeks hard march and we can double our number with the finest soldiers Erias can muster.”

  Cain thought on this. They desperately needed men if they were to survive. But hundreds of miles of Aceden-infested mountains separated them from the West Riders. If they were even still alive.

  “I’m sorry Isroc but we can’t risk it. Seraphel is a few days march away. Braygon is a different story.”

  Isroc cursed. “Seraphel is a death trap. We don’t know if our soldiers are there, or if the enemy already holds it. There are too many variables.”

  “The same could be said for Braygon.”

  Isroc fell quiet, simmering with quiet contempt.

  Cain turned to the Iscara who simply sat there watching the exchange. The man seemed almost too eager. Could this be a trap, or was he genuinely trying to save them? He supposed it didn’t matter much right now. They had no other choice.

  Cain sighed. “We march for Seraphel.”

  Dawn came all too soon. A gray light flitted through the trees and seared like a fire in the eyes of the weary soldiers. They continued through the wilderness, stumbling over and around rocks and trees and hills.

  The sun filled the valleys with a radiance that washed over every skeletal tree. The late autumn air cut at their skin and rustled the leaves at their feet.

  Cain walked at the head of a column, his mind racing. The Acedens were everywhere. They had conquered Inveira, now Erias. Did they have Kaanos too? What was their reason for doing all of this? Why did Iscarius kill Abaddon, only to turn the war against them? And how did Ceerocai fit into his plans?

  Too many questions. He had to focus on the immediate problems.

  Only a handful of men had slipped off during the night, and no one had bothered to stop them. That set a dangerous precedent: anyone could abandon their post at any time and Cain didn’t have the power to prevent it.

  Those that remained no doubt felt the same fear and helplessness. Did they stay simply out of self-preservation—they stood a better chance of survival sticking together than they did on their own, after all—or did they still dare to believe that they could resist the Acedens?

  He watched his soldiers as they marched. Slumped shoulders. Heavy steps. No, there was no hope left in those downtrodden eyes. They were here out of necessity alone. How long before they decided a life in chains was worth more than death on a sword?

  There was something else in their eyes as well. A different kind of fear, like the hateful gaze of an animal just kicked into a corner. He’d seen those looks only once before: in the aftermath of Ekran with spears in his face and the smoke of the ruined town still coiling in the air.

  Did that night have something to do with where Aren was? He’d spent weeks with a peculiar sense of loss a void in his chest. He couldn’t place it at the time, but ever since he’d emerged from the ship’s hold he’d noted his best friend’s absence. Perhaps he’d merely gotten separated, or was being treated for injuries somewhere, or… no. In the deepest parts of Cain’s mind, shoved beneath the guilt and despair, he knew his friend’s fate. He wanted to ask the others what had happened, but he feared the truth as much as he feared not knowing it.

  Isroc’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “What do you think is waiting for us at Seraphel?”

  Cain shook his head. “I don’t know… but it’s the only move we can make right now. We need to gather our strength and supplies.”

  “There are alternatives.”

  Cain pushed a hand through his hair. Not this again. It was a wonder the enemy hadn’t heard their late night “disagreement”. “Look, we played this out last night until we were both blue in the face. I want to go to Braygon, I really do, but I can’t risk this small of a force crossing open country for weeks just to gather reinforcements that may or may not even be there. We don’t have the time or resources for that.”

  “Then what are we doing now?” He did little to keep the edge from his voice. “Send me with a few men; you have nothing to lose. We’re marching a week toward a fort that may be empty.”

  “And marching to Braygon will be different? If this is anything like Inveira then Iscarius’ Acedens will already be in every town and city, Braygon included. We must stay together. If time permits, then we can see to your West Riders.”

  “If Seraphel doesn’t kill us first.”

  Cain stopped and studied his friend. Isroc was normally the level-headed one, so why was he so upset about this? Surely he understood the logic of marching a week as opposed to several.

  And there it was, that same look of fear. His friend hid it well but couldn’t help slipping as they locked eyes. Somehow, Cain knew what this was really about. Men walked around them, watching curiously as they passed.

  “Do we have a problem here, Isroc?”

  “You really don’t remember what happened at Ekran do you?” Isroc’s eyes narrowed. “No, I didn’t think so. Cain… you killed twenty thousand people that night.”

  “What? That’s impossible.”

  “Deep down you know what happened.”

  Cain shook his head, fighting off the encroaching memories. It was as if a mist shrouded them—he knew memories of that night were there, but he couldn’t see them, couldn’t touch them. But the mists were fading.

  Adriel and Silas approached. One look at their distraught faces, and he knew it was true.

  He looked at his trembling hands. “How is that possible?”

  Isroc crossed his arms. “You tell me.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything really. I just remember feeling… angry. Just angry.”

  Isroc bit off a yell. “The fires, the earthquakes, how could you possibly not remember?”

  Silas threw out an arm to calm his friend. “I’ve got this.” He turned to Cain. “You hit your head or something? Fires, explosions, earthquakes, people burning alive, that was some wicked shit, mate!”

  Isroc pushed Silas aside. “It’s nothing to laugh about! Cain, you may have saved us, saved the Alliance even, but you still killed thirty thousand men that night, enemy or not.”

  Cain sank to his knees as pieces of that night rushed over him in force. He remembered the screams. Those terrible screams. Could he really have done something so horrible? “Well, whatever it was, it saved our asses,” Silas said with a gentle hand on Cain’s arm. “You saved the Alliance, mate. We’d all be dead if it weren’t for you.”

  Isroc turned to him. “Yes, but at what cost? No one deserves to die the way they did. We condemn them for their atrocities, but are we any better after what happened at Ekran?”

  “That’s different.”

  “How so?”

  Silas scratched his head.

  Adriel stepped forward, hand on Cain’s arm. “You can walk now. You have your strength back. What killed all those people kept you and the rest of us alive. Whatever happened to you couldn’t be too bad…” She looked to Isroc. “Could it?”

  “You saw what Cain did to those Acedens. How do you know we won’t suffer the same fate?”

  Adriel suddenly leapt at Isroc, her eyes flashing like an icy storm. “How dare you! This is Cain we’re talking about,
he’d never do anything like that!”

  Silas knelt beside Cain, near giddy with excitement. “Exactly! That’s why you need to figure out how to do it again. If you can learn how to harness Ceerocai’s power, then we can use it for ourselves. We could win this war in no time.”

  “No man should possess that kind of power,” Isroc said. “Nothing good will come of that.”

  Silas turned back to Cain. “Don’t listen to him. You need to remember everything about that night. You need to remember how you summoned that power. We have to have it; we can’t win this war without it.”

  “Even if I knew what it was I wouldn’t know how to summon it, let alone control it.” He stood up. “We were trying to win this war before now, Silas. Isroc’s right. No peace is worth that much blood.”

  “That was before. Remember, Cain, remember!”

  “I don’t remember how it happened, alright? I couldn’t do whatever it was again even if I wanted to! All I know is that I don’t want to feel that kind of anger again. That was beyond anything I’ve ever felt… I don’t think I could handle it a second time.”

  Isroc frowned. “And you don’t need to. Look around.”

  Cain turned to see the meager vestiges of his army. Every soldier watched him as if he were a caged animal about to break free. That was true fear. Had he actually thought they still respected him, believed in him?

  “That is the price of power that no man should have to pay.” Isroc continued, “I told you from the beginning that no good would come of bearing Ceerocai. I am telling you this from the bottom of my heart… Ceerocai is true evil. I know it caused what happened that night at Ekran. Ceerocai is the cause of this war, Iscarius, Abaddon, all of it. I just know it.”

  Cain looked to Ceerocai roosting at his back like a predator in wait. He dipped his head. “Iscarius wants Ceerocai and he wants me. Only I can end this. And I will. I—”