The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  It seemed to him, in the fractions of a second that he had to consider it, that it was being aimed directly at the head of his love. There were several possible reasons that she might be his target. It could have been because she was a ranger of Innalas, and that this man, whoever he was, felt a particular animosity toward the warriors of that kingdom at the moment. Or it might have been the fact that she had a bow in her hands and, such being the case, was a very obvious threat to his king. Or it might have just been random chance. Whatever the case, however, he obviously intended to shoot her in the head.

  This situation was complicated by the fact that Rragor had attracted her attention just as they were stepping into the room. Something behind them seemed to be bothering him. As a result, she wouldn't see it coming.

  “Erana!” he screamed, diving between her and the flying bolt.

  The shaft ripped through armor, flesh, and bone alike, the point of it actually making its way out of the lieutenant's back. This attack instantly ended any chance of negotiation. Almost instantly, Erana let an arrow fly at the heart of her love's attacker, but the veteran warrior was more than ready for this and dove to the side before dropping his crossbow and drawing his sword. The two groups crashed together in a din of battle cries, chanted spells, and a screaming Kilren.

  “It had to be the same shoulder, didn't it?!” he cried. “Right at the start of the battle, too!”

  Darian and Gregor made up the party's front battle line. Each of them were forced to engage two enemies in direct combat. This was made even worse by the fact that their enemies were remarkably strong and were wielding weapons with greater reach than those of the knight and the prince. As the pair did their best to fight defensively, the king and the formerly crossbow-wielding warrior joined the attack, forcing each of them to face three opponents.

  It was obvious to Jalek that the situation could very quickly become dire if they didn't find some way to shift the odds fairly quickly. Although he and his companions were extremely skilled, these were enemies they may have underestimated. Fortunately, Gwendolyn had just managed to engulf one of the warriors wielding a two-handed sword in flames and he was certainly worse for the wear. However, they were going to need to do more than that. For one thing, the two magic-users were already chanting. That was almost certainly a bad sign for the band.

  Out of the corner of his eye, as he stood drawing a circle of dark red runes on the floor, he was pleased to see that Erana had managed to take further advantage of Gwendolyn's attack by shooting their fire covered foe under his helmet as he reeled back in the flames. Hopefully, what he had in mind would be of even more help.

  “Gwendolyn!” he shouted as soon as he finished, pointing toward the circle he had drawn. “Fire!”

  Instantly, the maiden threw out her hands, covering the floor in flames. The runes of the circle glowed with a bright orange light and a creature of living fire formed in their very center. It had no sooner manifested, than it flew toward the halberd-wielding foe that Gregor faced. It lashed out at him, driving him back before its consuming heat, step by step.

  Ian managed to cover the male spell-caster in acid just before leaping out of the way of the fiery blast that his foe had aimed in his direction. The female magic-user turned her attention to the fire elemental ripping through its somewhat insubstantial body with shards of ice cast from the tip of her staff. This clearly weakened the creature, although it was not quite enough to destroy it. In response, Erana sent a shaft in the enemy sorceress's direction, but it seemed to bounce off the very air in front of her.

  In spite of the agony he was in, and the pandemonium in which he found himself, Kilren's attention was riveted to Rragor. Rather than join the fray, as the noble beast normally would have, he was staring down the hallway through which they had come just moments before; his ears back and his teeth bared. The lieutenant realized why this was as several Mikralian soldiers came flying around a nearby corner. Obviously, they had seen the party enter the keep and had rushed to the aid of their king. Fortunately, there were only five of them. At least, for the moment...

  “Oh, of course!” he yelled, firing his crossbow at the foremost of their attackers, “Why not?!”

  His bolt reached its target and brought one of their enemies to the ground, but the remaining four were unmoved by this attack. Kilren drew his sword and charged down the hall, Rragor running at his side. Before he reached them, another of their band dropped, an arrow protruding from his chest. It seemed as if he had gotten Erana's attention. That would certainly be helpful.

  With the strength of the Eilian flowing through him, Darian lashed out at his foes time and again. They were both powerful and skilled but, he thanked the gods that he seemed to be even more so. The gray haired warrior was remarkably spry for his age and, more than once, he’d almost managed to slash the Telian's face while each time leaping out of the way before the knight could return the attack. If Darian were going to defeat him, he would have to get rid of his halberd-wielding ally first.

  The young knight appeared to let his guard down just long enough to tempt his enemy to attack. The warrior dropped the blade of his weapon with all the force he could. Darian, however, leapt to the side; striking the shaft of the halberd with his sword as it passed. The head of his foe's weapon flew from its shaft. The Telian followed this up with an attack that cut through his enemy's armor, as well as his chest. For the moment, at least, he and the gray haired warrior would face each other alone.

  Seeing his ally facing both the king and one of his personal guards, Jalek decided to come to Gregor's aid. He lowered his staff in the direction of the two-handed sword wielding warrior and intoned a few words. Electricity shot from his staff and covered the body of his foe. This proved to be more than enough to get his attention.

  The male magic-user was chanting excitedly. Ian felt certain that, whatever he was about to do, it was something they really wouldn't want to happen. To counter this, he began a sing-song spell at a much faster tempo. The speed at which he sang allowed him to bring his spell to an end before his foe managed to do the same. The enemy spell-caster seemed to be struck mute the moment the bard finished. With a wide smile, Ian drew his rapier and dagger and began moving in the direction of the spell-caster. In reply, his foe merely slammed his staff on the ground, striking the dwarf with a blast of fire that knocked him down, as well as setting his clothes on fire.

  In the middle of this, Gwendolyn turned her attention to the female spell-caster. The maiden had seen Erana's arrow deflected and felt that it would be best to test this enemy with her own talents. She threw out her arms, pouring arcane energy through her frame. The ring on her hand began to glow as the flames shot from her hands. Her foe opposed her fire with ice, but her abilities proved no match for those of the young sorceress. She screamed in agony as Gwendolyn's power enveloped her. All at once, she reached for an amulet hanging around her neck. The moment her hand touched it, she vanished.

  The low growl that Rragor emitted was meant to be a warning to the young man. It was the noble creature's way of telling him that, if he didn't turn back, his life would be forfeit. This was a warning the soldier either didn't understand or chose to ignore. Whichever the case, it cost him his life. He lashed out at the massive wolf but missed his mark with his first attack. He didn't get another. The beast leapt on him, sinking its fangs into his throat in a flash.

  Kilren had to face two enemies with no shield, one sword, and one shoulder. Still, it could have been worse. It could have been his sword shoulder that had a bolt sticking through it. Also, he was fairly confident that all he had to do was fight defensively. He felt sure that, if he could just keep himself from getting killed for a few seconds, Erana and Rragor would be able to handle his two remaining enemies. He was right. One managed to get behind him, only to end up with an arrow through his heart. The other turned his back on the wolf, which proved to be a deadly mistake.

  Having seen what the young woman had done to his counterp
art, the male magic-user decided to do his best to burn Gwendolyn to death. He slammed his staff on the floor once again, causing a jet flame to shoot from it and engulf the maiden. At first, she found the searing flames agonizing. However, this was her element. Over the course of her training, she had come to understand the nature of arcane fire on an almost instinctual level. Rather than fight it, she would embrace it. The maiden pulled the power that surrounded her into herself, she added to it, she channeled it through her ring, and then she released it. The result was a firestorm that completely consumed her foe, leaving behind it nothing more than a smoking husk.

  This attracted King Palnar's attention. With a flick of his wrist, he let the dagger in his left hand fly. It was an ancient blade, forged in ages past for the first king of Mikral. The runes that covered it, filled it with power; it was perfectly made and perfectly balanced. The weapon ripped through the maiden's dress of mail as if it had been made of nothing more than cloth. With a scream, Gwendolyn dropped to her knees, the dagger buried in her side.

  Darian's heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to reach her quickly, but he was facing a foe he couldn't turn his back on. Ian was still laying senseless on the floor. Gregor and Jalek were both very much engaged with the foes they were facing. Miraculously, the still living halberd-wielding warrior had actually managed to defeat the fire elemental. If Kilren's screaming was any indication, there were even more enemies on their way. If he were going to save her, he would have to hurry.

  King Palnar had done very well against Gregor. In truth, an unbiased observer would have certainly said that the king was both the stronger and the more skilled of the two. In a normal contest, it would have only been a matter of time before the prince lost his life. However, the moment the king struck the maiden down, this changed. Implacable rage seemed to fill the young lord's soul. With a cry of fury, he lashed out at his foe with a countless series of attacks.

  In situations like this, you had to stay calm. After all, most of their band had been stabbed, or cut, or shot at some point. They had always lived through it. It was just a dagger, after all. How many had she held in her hand over the course of her life? Of course, there was something different about seeing the handle of one sticking out of her own side and feeling its blade in her lung. Still, focusing on that wasn't going to help her now.

  She could heal herself; she knew how to do it. With her left hand, she reached up and grabbed the hilt, doing her best to pull it out of her side. No. It was stuck too deep and the pain nearly overwhelming. On the other hand, she couldn't heal herself until it was out, and no one else was around that could heal her. In silent prayers, she asked the Eilian to give her the strength to do what she knew she had to. A warm sense of serenity filled her as she grabbed the handle again. With a jerk, she ripped it from her flesh with more strength than she knew she had. As she collapsed to the floor, she begged the gods to help her heal herself. Instantly, her prayers were answered and her wound sealed itself.

  The king did his best to keep his foe from him; taking his sword in both hands and using every ounce of strength his body had to offer. It was not enough, however. Prince Gregor beat down his guard, drew his sword above his head, and dropped it like lightning from above. The king fell lifeless at his feet.

  “Enough, Telian!” the old warrior cried, casting down his sword as he spoke. “Truce. All of you, throw down your weapons.”

  For several seconds, the soldiers of Mikral hesitated.

  “Throw down your weapons!” the old man cried again. “Do as your general commands you!”

  Hesitatingly, his men obeyed him.

  “What are your terms of truce?” Gregor asked between panted breaths.

  “That you allow us to retreat without hindrance,” the general replied. “With our king dead, there's no reason for any more to die today.”

  By this time, Darian had reached Gwendolyn's side and was helping her to her feet.

  “Very well,” he replied, glancing back over his shoulder. “We accept. Tell your soldiers to stand down.”

  The general ordered the guards that had survived the encounter to take the message to the various captains overseeing their defenses, as well as to Lord Valrak. They were to stand down and let Lord Andor know that General Karrnon wanted to discuss the terms of truce with him.

  As soon as this message was on its way, the party attended to their wounded. The bolt was soon ripped from Kilren's shoulder and the healing hands of the Telian quickly put him back to rights. Ian looked far worse than he proved to be. He had hit his head when he fell on the stone floor, which had momentarily knocked him unconscious but, that had kept him out of reach of most of the flames that had been meant to kill him. As a result, his wounds were superficial, although his clothes were completely ruined. Gwendolyn had done such a fine job of healing herself, that she didn't need the knight or the bard to attend to her. Although for an hour or so, both the Telian and the prince kept asking her if she was sure she was alright.

  Lord Andor and General Karrnon quickly reached an agreement for a temporary truce. The forces of Mikral, as well as those of Lord Valrak, would be allowed to retreat and, for seven days, neither side would initiate an attack against the other. This would give each side time to fortify its position, as well as give King Palnar's heir an opportunity to decide whether or not to attempt to negotiate a long-term peace agreement.

  By early afternoon, the forces of Mikral had withdrawn and the members of the band found themselves with a few hours of complete liberty.

  Chapter 18: A Red Dawn

  “All things considered,” Kilren said with a contented sigh, “I'd say that went fairly well.”

  “I suppose that's true,” Ian replied as he followed the lieutenant down the steps of the keep. “Although, I wish we'd have been able to take King Palnar alive. And, I wish my clothes weren’t ruined. Of course, I suppose it was about time to get a new suit anyway.”

  “I didn't mean to kill him,” Gregor said, turning his eyes to the young sorceress. “I just lost my temper. I was afraid he'd killed Gwendolyn.”

  “I was afraid of that, too,” Darian replied, shaking his head.

  “It was really nothing to worry about,” the maiden asserted, gazing at the Telian. “If I'd died, Darian would have brought me back.”

  “I wouldn't be too sure of that,” Kilren replied. “He hasn't brought anybody back today.”

  “There were too many wounded,” the knight replied. “Lord Andor said it would be wiser to save the living than to try to raise the dead.”

  “What about King Palnar?” the lieutenant asked, coming to a halt in the courtyard and turning around to face the Telian. “I mean; I can't stand the guy but, having him alive – and captured – would almost certainly mean this war was over.”

  “Lord Andor actually tried,” Darian explained. “The Eilian refused to raise him.”

  “Would Winrall?” Gregor asked.

  “Probably,” the knight replied, “but, as I've already explained numerous times...”

  “I don't mean that,” the prince interrupted. “What I'm saying is; could Valrak raise him from the dead?”

  “Maybe...” the Telian said slowly. “If we give Mikral his body back...”

  “Well, we can't not do that,” Ian asserted. “Lord Andor already agreed that they could retrieve their dead in the next few days.”

  “So, we may have killed him for nothing?” Kilren asked. “If Valrak can resurrect him, then giving them his body is just letting him get away!”

  “That's a fair point,” Gregor nodded. “From what I've heard, Valrak's not a man to just give up.”

  “No, he's not,” Ian replied.

  “I'm sure Lord Andor has already thought of that,” Darian assured them. “Anyway, let's go.”

  “Right,” the lieutenant nodded. “Where are we going, again?”

  “My father's cottage,” the knight replied.

  “Or what's left of it,” Tealor added.

&
nbsp; “Whether the king is raised or not,” Jalek said as the group set out toward the remains of the knight's childhood home, “I'm afraid today is a red dawn.”

  “What do you mean?” Kilren asked.

  “We're in for a storm,” the wizard replied. “With King Palnar alive, this war will likely continue. With him dead, it still may and it could lead to civil war in Mikral. The current line of succession isn't exactly crystal clear. Not to mention the fact that we've begun the restoration of Solarin and reignited the war with Thelsfar. A lot more people will likely die before this is all over.”

  This observation led to a short silence which was broken by Gregor.

  “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “in some ways, I think I can actually empathize with Lord Valrak.”

  “You what?!” Darian exclaimed.

  “I mean; his not giving up,” the prince explained. “When I want something, I never give up. No matter what. As long as there's the slimmest chance of success, I keep on trying.”

  “A lot of the things Valrak wants are wicked,” the knight pointed out.

  “Obviously,” Gregor ceded. “That doesn't lessen the value of his tenacity, though. That's something I can't help but respect. Of course, I have to admit that it also worries me a great deal.”

  “And, me, as well,” Tealor agreed.

  “If I were in his place,” the prince continued, “I'd be doing everything I could to get Gwendolyn under my power. Especially if I believed she could actually open the Gates of Death.”

  “I'm sure he is doing everything he can,” the warrior nodded. “Fortunately for us, at the moment, he seems to be too busy to do much.”

  “But for how long?” Gregor asked.

  “Aye,” Ian agreed, “that is the question.”

  “If he tries to take her again, we'll stop him,” Darian said confidently. “Just like we did before.”

  “If it comes up again,” Gwendolyn replied, “I won't be some helpless maiden, just waiting to be rescued.”