***
In the Great Hall, the king was seeing to matters of the state, as this was the designated time of month to listen to, and resolve, complaints from villagers, soldiers, farmers, etc.
Kri’Entu sat back on his throne in exasperation, his head throbbing mercilessly. These two bickering farmers each claimed they were responsible for the remarkable harvest that the other was fortunate enough to have had this year. Each, naturally, wanted a significant share of his neighbor’s profits. Getting irritated with the pettiness of these two squabbling farmers, Kri’Entu began to explain how each were now going to give equal shares of their prized crops to the other when Sarah and Mikal suddenly materialized in their midst, stumbling to the ground.
The king leapt to his feet. “Mikal? Sarah? Are ye alright? What happened?”
Sarah made it to her feet first. “Your majesty, we were attacked! North of the castle at that underground dragon lair you made! Please, Steve is still out there, all by himself!!”
“Attacked?” Surprise registered on his face first, only to be quickly replaced by anger. “Sound the alarm! Captain!”
Rhenyon, who had been interviewing new recruits near the back of the Hall, wasted no time. Startled by the sudden intrusion of two people appearing out of thin air, he had leapt to his feet. He was pleased to see the woman from the inn, but mortified to learn that yet another attack had occurred, especially while he was on duty. He sprinted out of the Great Hall, all the while shouting for his men. “To the northern orchards! On the double!!” Every soldier he encountered had to scramble to keep up.
At that moment, a massive explosion sounded, rattling windows, causing several coats of arms to fall from their mounts on the wall. The floor rumbled beneath their feet.
The king locked his gaze on Sarah. “What was that? Was that yer husband?”
Sarah nodded. “It happened once before, when we were attacked. I’ll tell you about it later, I promise. Please, we have to help!”
The king, along with practically all the rest of the castle personnel, ran to a side door Sarah hadn’t noticed before. Mikal moved to follow his father when the king looked back, saw his son following, and instructed several guards to secure him in the Antechamber. Without waiting to hear Mikal’s protests, they ran to catch up with the rest of the castle staff all rushing to make it outside. Sarah was following the king, weaving in and out of the multitudes of people that kept appearing in their way.
Still rumbling, the cloud of smoke generated from the explosion rose higher into the air, twisting and turning. The tower bells were ringing, sounding the general alarm. A second explosion suddenly ripped through the air, with a second large plume of dark black smoke rising angrily up into the sky to join the first. The second blast had been more powerful than the first, with the concussion forcing Sarah to stumble to the closest building and crouch in the doorway. The king joined her moments later. Together they waited for the rumbling to pass. Concern for her husband had her releasing her grip on the wooden door frame after about ten seconds. She sprinted towards the northern gate. She had to know if her husband was alright. But before she could race towards the gate, she felt a strong hand clamp around her wrist.
Gripping Sarah’s arm tightly, the king grabbed the first soldier within his reach and pushed him towards her.
“Escort her back inside, now.” He snagged a second soldier and shoved him towards the first. “Ye are with him. Go.”
Finding herself with an escort on either arm, Sarah started her own protest, but was cut off by a glare from the king.
It took five minutes of running at a flat-out sprint before Rhenyon and his men arrived in the northern orchards. All the soldiers drew to a sudden halt as they finally emerged from the groves of fruit trees and observed the carnage before them. Several of the trees unlucky enough to have been within range were now blackened. Three men, clothed in charred, tattered rags, were lying face down on the burnt ground. Blackened bows and scarred remains of arrows, leather armor, and clothing lay strewn about.
Pacing back and forth behind the survivors of the attack, both hands still ignited, was Steve. Seeing that his reinforcements had finally arrived, Steve stopped walking and stared hard at the captain. “I remember you. Rhenyon, right? Just the person I wanted to see. You can take it from here. I have to go. Mikal and my wife disappeared on me. Literally. I have to find out if they’re okay.”
Rhenyon held up his hands. “They are fine. They appeared suddenly in the Great Hall. She told us what happened.” He looked down at the terrified men who refused even to look up. “What happened here? Are ye alright?” The captain gave him a quick once over. He was unable to approach any closer due to the immense heat pouring off the Nohrin. “Do ye think ye might be able to tone it down some?”
Suddenly aware that his hands were still burning, he snuffed them both out. The temperature in the vicinity instantly started to drop. Steve took a deep breath.
“Sorry, I’m a little rattled, but I’m okay. Can’t say the same thing for these guys. Sons of bitches tried to kill us and take Mikal.”
Rhenyon’s eyes widened. “Here? This close to the castle??” He swore under his breath. “Aye, we will take it from here.” He gestured to several of his men, and within seconds, all three prisoners were trussed up so tightly that they could barely breathe. “Was it just these three, then?”
“There were more, but Bredo there took care of ‘em for us.”
Rhenyon frowned, looking over at the moat. The earth had been disturbed by the water’s edge, as though someone took a swim but frantically tried to pull themselves out. “Why would they jump in there? Everyone knows not to go jumping into our moat.”
“Well, they’d jump in willingly if they were on fire.”
Rhenyon disguised his chuckle with a discreet clearing of the throat. “How many were there all together?”
Steve thought a moment. “I’d say at least a dozen. The first four came out of the dragon tunnel there, and then when they were unsuccessful in snatching Mikal, a bunch more came from the forest over there, where those three trees look like they are growing together as one.”
Rhenyon instantly dispatched ten men to investigate. At that moment, two squadrons of fully armored knights on horseback appeared, with the king snapping out orders from the front of the procession.
“One squadron in reconnaissance. Disperse throughout the forest. If anyone or anything is found, report it instantly. All others,” indicating the remaining group of horsemen, “secure the perimeter.”
The soldiers instantly obeyed. Half galloped into the forest, vanishing amongst the heavily wooded trees. The second squadron immediately spread out, forming an armored circle around the scene of the battle.
The king dismounted, joining the two of them moments later. Rhenyon straightened as he approached. Kri’Entu glared down at the three tightly trussed up men. “What happened here? Are these three involved?”
“Directly,” Steve said. “This one,” he nudged the one in the center, “drew his bow on Sarah with the intent to kill her. This one,” he indicated the bound man on the right, “tried to draw his sword on me. And him,” he nudged the last man, tied up on the left, “he came out of the forest. His group must have been backup or something.”
The king stared open-mouthed at the captives. Never once have they been able to take any prisoners from one of these types of attacks. Now they had three!
“I assume, then, that the remaining men escaped into the forest?”
“No, your majesty, they did not.”
The king raised an eyebrow. He looked left, then right. No bodies. He didn’t see anyone else other than these three. “What happened to them then? Were you forced to dispatch them?”
Taking several more deep breaths to try and calm his already pounding nerves, Steve relayed the events that had only happened to him moments before.
In that split second as he saw the arrow released, he recalled that he had once before conjured up a blast that had incinerated an arrow in mid-flight. He didn’t know how he did it then, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to do it now.
Not liking arrows fired at them, Steve’s jhorun took the decision-making process out of his hands.
The blast of fire caught the arrow en route to its target, vaporizing it into ash, as well as igniting the rest of the arrows waiting to be released. Anything combustible was flash-burned, reduced to ash in mere seconds. Strings snapped; bows were reduced to charred husks. The approaching ruffians were all thrown backwards onto the ground. Hard.
Momentarily stunned, the advancing thugs regained their feet and quickly realized that only bows and arrows had been destroyed. Seeing his comrades shocked expressions, their new leader drew his sword, motioning to his dimwitted fellows to follow suit. Swords were unsheathed as the gang, as one, rushed to overtake their pyrotechnical adversary. All they had to do was reach him before he figured out what to do next.
They didn’t make it.
The second explosion caught the advancing group dead center. About half of them managed to dive to the ground just before impact. The others weren’t so fortunate, becoming human torches on contact. Screaming in pain, the unlucky men dove into the moat to put themselves out. The resident moat monster, already having been alerted to the mayhem happening nearby, was waiting. Two of the remaining survivors elected to reverse course and high-tail it back to the forest.
Oh no you don’t, Steve thought angrily. That won’t save your sorry asses. His jhorun tingled, gaining in strength, as if calling for reinforcements. Suddenly his right hand blazed so brightly that it actually stung. Reacting as though he had just been bitten by an insect, Steve shook it. It didn’t help. The shaking became more violent. So did the intensity of the sting. Without knowing how or why, Steve suddenly knew what he had to do. Pretending he was throwing the first pitch at a baseball game, Steve cocked his right arm back and let fly with his imaginary pitch.
The ball of fire that erupted was the size of a basketball. It streaked towards the two retreating men.
Sensing something amiss, one of the men looked behind him, only to discover a raging orb of death rushing headlong towards them.
He barely had time to shout a warning to his mate.
“Look out!”
The other saw what was happening and both took off, heading in different directions. The racing globe of fire separated itself equally into two smaller spheres and smoothly went after each fleeing man. Screaming hysterically, the mercenaries frantically dodged this way and that, hoping to elude their ever approaching fate.
The two fireballs struck their targets in as many heartbeats. Right on their butts. With their backsides flaming brighter than any torch, they ran for the moat to throw themselves in.
Bredo, having the time of his life, kept snapping up morsels as they kept appearing.
The Prophecy Page 18