by A L Hardy
As soon as they passed the tree in which she and Trel were concealed, she dropped from the tree. While free falling, she released her arrow and hit the Knight with the brown gemstone square through the back of his throat. Before the other two Knights could do anything about it, she quickly broke her Focus into two equal pieces in her mind and through lances of fire comprised of fear and hatred through each of their chests. No sooner had the two fallen to the ground that the Kin realized they were being attacked and turned to fight her.
The one at the head of the group smiled, obviously thinking the sole Lythrain would be easy to dispatch. He wielded a broadsword large enough to split a wild boar in half and had an incredible amount of muscle showing around his leather armor.
Ilays smiled back, but unlike his wicked one, hers was confident and strong. With her inherent agility, she quickly drew another arrow, knocked it, and killed the only man in the group who had been holding a crossbow. As the remainder began to advance on her, they started falling to the ground in quick succession from an unknown force. From above her, she could sense Trel using his magic to kill the men with small, careful punches of air that went straight through their armor into their hearts. She was surprised to feel that his spells were weaved from compassion and hope, but didn't have time to analyze it.
Panic began to ensue with the remaining Kin as they saw their comrades dying; Ilays used that panic to her advantage. She quickly slung her bow over her shoulder and drew her mother's scimitar, running to meet the men. She weaved among the eight that remained in her graceful dance, slicing each with quick slashes. Many times her scimitar only made contact with swords or armor, but she was doing her job well. Within a minute, all 15 Kin were lying dead in the forest. She had lost count of how many she had killed and how many Trel had killed from above.
Trel dropped from the trees and said "We should be quick, but leaving these weapons could be a fatal mistake."
"I agree. You work on the Kin. I'll get the Knight’s swords then help you carry the remainder."
As they were talking, something felt wrong to Ilays and she turned quickly, just in time to see the leader of the Kin standing with one arm holding closed a large wound in his gut and the other swinging his broadsword with surprising speed directly toward her exposed chest. Even with her Lythrain grace, she could tell she couldn't avoid or parry the blow. She was going to die.
In that instant, a blur appeared from the side of her and she saw her mother's second scimitar sprout from the Kin's chest. The scimitar came with such power that it pushed the man back a pace and his broadsword missed Ilays by a hand's breadth.
From the side where the scimitar had come from she heard Ramier's voice at the base of a nearby tree, seemingly coming from the shadows "You have been training, and you've been trained well. But you missed one."
Stepping out from the trunk where he hid, Ramier said "You can have your scimitar back now. I'm taking that monstrosity until we get back to camp," he gestured at the broadsword as he spoke. "If we hurry, I don't think the Kin will send anyone else in time to catch us. Grab the weapons and let's go."
*
Jurod and Ilays rode hard into the night in the pouring rain, stopping only to rest the horses. The guards hadn’t seen where Xardan went and Ilays couldn’t Scry the Knight or the spell book. Ilays however still held the enchanted Drop that Xardan had given her in Riverguard and they had chased its pull now for two days.
The driving rain darkened the entire night so Jurod could only see the silhouette of Ilays and her horse just ahead of him.
“Ilays!” Jurod shouted into the rain, “Ilays!”
Ilays reined in her mount hard and Jurod nearly collided into her as she turned to face him. The horses danced on the road for a moment after the excitement of the near blind gallop before Jurod was able to rein in alongside Ilays where they could hear each other.
“Did you say something?” Ilays shouted.
“Maybe we should stop for the night?” Jurod asked, still shouting over the rain and thunder.
“Where?” Ilays replied, “There’s no shelter for miles!”
“I think I see a building up ahead,” Jurod pointed off into the darkness, “There where everything seems… blacker.”
Ilays looked where Jurod was pointing and saw a vague shadow a bow’s shot off the road. She hesitated for a moment before straightening her cloak and leading her horse forward at a slow walk. Jurod followed close behind as she rode along the left side of the road so that she wouldn’t miss the wagon path that took them off the main road and around a small house.
Jurod felt Ilays Focus as she reined in her horse short of the corner of the house. Quietly the Lythrain dismounted and drew her swords before moving forward. Jurod hurried to follow suit but lacked her true Lythrain grace and therefore took what seemed significantly more time.
With sword finally in hand, Jurod stepped forward to peek around the corner of the house and saw a small patch of light cast by a sealed lantern hung on a post by the door. There was no one in the patch of light, nor any evidence that there had been anyone at the house for some time. Jurod cast a backward glance at the horses, which had contented themselves with grazing for the time being, before continuing in Ilays’s path around the corner of the house.
Jurod stepped into the light only three steps from the corner of the house and almost immediately began to hear soft, steady hoof beats from the horses. Fear pounded through his head at the thought of the horses running away or being stolen by thugs and bandits in the forest. Jurod spun back around and jumped back within sight of the horses, blade ready to strike, only to see Ilays leading one horse in each hand.
“The house is empty.” Ilays called over the pouring rain, “Likely bandits attacked shortly before we arrived and kidnapped the family. The house is ransacked but there are no corpses. Unfortunately there also are no acceptable beds so we’ll check in the barn and hope for some haystacks; they’ll at least be softer than rocks.”
Ilays handed Jurod the reins to his horse and took the lantern from its post by the door. Jurod sheathed his sword loudly as the pair made their way across the open field to the barn. Ilays entered the large building with calm confidence despite one door hanging slightly ajar.
Inside the barn, the small pool of light cast by the lantern showed them a single stack of hay against the back wall. Ilays took her horse into an empty stall and immediately went to work removing the saddle, bags, and bundles from the horse’s back. Jurod led his horse into another stall and busied himself with the various straps and buckles on his horse’s gear.
“Whose side is Xardan on?” Jurod asked.
Ilays didn’t look up from her project as she responded, “What do you mean?”
“All my life in the monastery,” Jurod explained, “Merchants and soldiers brought in tales of ‘Sir Xardan Ta’Caran, Knight of the Black Era’, and his bloody raids against magic users and spell casters everywhere. Yet since I’ve met him, Xardan has only fought against Faelhart and their war on magic.
“I thought it was suspicious at first,” Jurod admitted as he continued, “But I let myself trust him anyway. Now we finally got our hands on the spell book and he takes it at his first opportunity and runs for Faelhart. So whose side is he on?”
Ilays took several deep breaths before sighing loudly and announcing, “I have met Xardan many times throughout the years, and we have helped each other many times over. I thought he was on our side, but now I can’t be sure. I’ve begun to wonder if he befriended me early in my life as an attempt to utilize my skill in acquiring that spell book.”
After her horse had been rubbed down, brushed, and fed, Ilays removed her dripping cloak and hung it on a peg, unbuckled her sword belts, and began removing the harder bits of her armor that would disrupt a decent night’s sleep. Exhausted, tired and assuming Jurod would cast wards around the barn; Ilays pulled a blanket from her bags and collapsed into the haystack.
Jurod moved around his horse
with practiced patience and care, giving the horse his full attention after the driving rainstorm. When he finally turned away from the creature, Ilays was already asleep. Jurod didn’t remember feeling Ilays Focus nor did he remember sensing her spells as she cast wards around the barn. He trusted however on the knowledge that every night they had been together she hadn’t gone to sleep without casting her wards. He wasn’t sure why, but exhaustion seemed to be overtaking him suddenly. His final thought before collapsing next to Ilays was that he hadn’t done anything to cause him to feel so tired.
Chapter 12
Altavar's victory was absolute. He banished Toug and his Tougin generals to Neth'yc; he drove Rylvia and her High-Kin generals deep into the earth, buried under miles of earth of stone. The Tougin and Rylvians he outcast to the farthest reaches of Khes'yc - ordering both to remain in solitude from the other races until they could overcome their warmongering ways. As for the Fey, he tainted them; cut them off from the magic upon which they thrived and cursed them with blackened skin - they became the Trelir.
*
The first thing that Ilays noticed was that she did not wake up in the barn that she fell asleep in. The second thing that she noticed was that Jurod was gone. The fleeting thought passed her mind that she was only dreaming, but the pain felt too real.
Nervously, she extended her mind toward her Focus and found a formidable Guard holding her. Someone outside the tent stood from a group of rudely joking guards and started toward her tent. Long purple robes flowed around the wizard's wiry frame as he stepped into the tent.
“I am curious,” the wizard announced, “What are a Lythrain and a half-blood doing in an abandoned barn in the middle of Strolm with no wards or watch?”
Ilays could have cursed aloud as the pieces fell into place in her mind.
“What do you want?” Ilays sneered through clenched teeth.
“What inspires you to believe that I want anything?” the wizard mocked, “You should be concerned with what my liege wants. You see, he was quite jealous of the half-blood being alone with you when you stumbled into our trap. He's preparing now for his turn.”
“He'll die first!” Ilays retorted.
“I think not!” the wizard smiled, “My spells will ensure your... cooperation; and your half-blood pet is under heavy guard.”
A small smile spread across Ilays's face as she repeated, “He'll die first.”
*
Riverguard was ablaze with activity as Xardan rode slowly through the crowded streets. Bits of conversation drifted over the crowd to the Knight atop his war horse, spreading rumors of battle outside the city walls, war between the Dragon Lords and Faelhart, Lord Brath gone missing, and an ultimatum given by King Tennlka.
Xardan hurried through the city, wanting to be on Faelhart's lines if a battle was waged. As he neared the east gate, the soldiers on duty lowered their halberds to bar his path.
“No one is permitted to leave out this gate, sir!” The first guard announced proudly.
Xardan smiled at the Dragon Lords' guards actually thinking they could keep him from passing.
“If you value your lives,” Xardan replied with chilling, emotionless calm, “You will open the gate and let me pass.”
With his cloak drawn closed, the soldiers did not see Xardan's right hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
“We are under strict orders...” The second soldier's statement was interrupted as Xardan's blade whistled from its scabbard to knock their halberds aside and his horse surged forward toward the closed doors. The shadows around the gate moved fluidly to engulf Xardan and his mount before depositing them on the opposite side of the wall.
Xardan rode easily away from the east gate and broke his horse into a gallop. After riding for several miles, Xardan crossed the outer ring of sentries. Archers came forward with bows drawn, waiting to see if he was friend or foe. Xardan reigned in his horse, slowly lifted his hand, and threw back his hood. Once they saw his face, every sentry lowered his bow.
“Sir Ta'Caran!” one exclaimed, “This is quite unexpected!”
“Take me to the King!” Xardan barked.
Orders were snapped around until one sentry took Xardan's horse and another turned to lead him into the camp. Xardan untied his saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder before following his guide.
King Tennlka's tent was lavish in comparison to the camp that surrounded it. Candlelight flickered on the interior of the tent casting obscure shadows out into the night.
As they drew near, Tennlka's voice could be heard arguing, “Ambassador, I assure you, as soon as it is within my possession I will gladly and willingly turn it over to you as your people’s payment. I assume you will send for the remainder of our bargain tomorrow?”
“Tonight even!” someone replied from within. The feminine voice was dark and sinister, almost sounding like a hiss of a serpent though lacking the hiss itself.
“Excellent!” Tennlka exclaimed, “Now, with your leave, I need to rest if we're to plan a battle.”
Before Tennlka or his ambassador had left the tent, Xardan's guide stepped in to announce the Knight's arrival. After a moment, Xardan stepped into the tent. Tennlka was behind his desk looking and sorting through various maps, and his Tyrnish bodyguard, Duryg, stood as always by the King's side; in the center of the tent however, stood a short, slim figure in dark cloaks and robes. Her skin was a dark shade of gray, and her long hair was vibrant red. Cold, blue Trelir eyes pierced through Xardan as the pair made eye contact; seconds later however, the ambassador’s gaze drifted from Xardan and back to the King.
“A Trelir!? Outside of Talar!?” Xardan asked, “What is this?”
“This is Lady Ambassador Talren Bloodstalker, of Talar. She is here to negotiate the beginning of the end of our war!” the King proclaimed, “Do you have Laglan Darkshire's spell book?”
“I do.” Xardan stated, conjuring the book from the saddlebag.
Talren practically shrieked with excitement as she saw the book. “At last!” the Trelir hissed, stepping forward to take the book from Xardan.
With the spell book in his left hand and his right on his blade, Xardan turned defensively to keep himself between the book and the Trelir.
“Give her the book.” Tennlka ordered.
“All this was to give the book to Talar!?” Xardan roared.
“Do as your King commands, Knight of the Black Era!” Tennlka finished without truly answering the Knight's question.
Talren took another step forward and gently wrestled the book from Xardan's hands. The ambassador's hands reverently caressed the book and she seemed to drift out of the room without even asking the King's permission to leave.
“I hope you have a plan, my King.” Xardan stated coldly.
“Of course I do, Xardan.” Tennlka replied, “Laglan's Spell Book is payment to Talar for their cooperation with the war.”
“So now there's going to be an army of Trelir marching into Faelhart?”
“Not an army,” Tennlka answered, “They have another plan. Since you arrived with the spell book, she will send for everything that she needs tonight; but that is unimportant to you.”
“And what is important to me?” Xardan asked.
“Riverguard.” Tennlka replied, “I gave an ultimatum to Brath that his soldiers either enlist in our army, or abandon the city. He has until tomorrow to make his decision.
“Tomorrow, in the middle of the day, I want you to take the city by force.”
“Are there enough troops here to take the city?” Xardan quarried.
“You're not using the troops. I want you to take the city alone.”
“Why not wait until nightfall then?” Xardan pressed, “You know my powers are far more powerful at midnight than they are at mid-day.”
“Yes; as does Brath.” Tennlka said, “I want the Dragon Lords to know that we can take back our city any time we want. I don't want them to think that they're safe simply because we are not at our strongest.
“In the middle of the day tomorrow, attack the city, kill all the soldiers and as many civilians as you can. Slaughter Brath's advisers in the city square. Are your orders understood, Knight?”
Xardan glared into the shadows at the arrogance of King Tennlka. “Yes they are, my King.”
*
Jurod woke to a sharp pain in his left side. Jeering voices and mocking laughs announced at least three tormentors around him. A small shuffling was all the warning Jurod had before another boot planted itself in his right side. In spite of himself, Jurod winced and gasped against the pain. Cheers rose loudly from the spectators at seeing the reaction they had been hoping for.
Jurod opened his eyes and saw three grinning bandits standing over him. Behind his three tormentors, six other bandits cheered again as a third kick landed square on Jurod's face.
Blood ran freely down his face as one bandit tormentor slowly bent down alongside Jurod.
“Good morning, half-blood!” he jeered.
Jurod lay in silence, letting the bandit play his game.
“Not wanting to talk, eh?” the bandit mocked, “That's fine, I was told to beat you until you did; and I like beatings.”
Each of Jurod's tormentors took another turn at his ribs and head before the leader knelt down again.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Jurod glared back at the bandit and asked, “Where's Ilays?”
“Ilays?” the leader asked, “Oh, you mean the pretty Lythrain whore! By now the wizard's spells are taking effect and she's headed to the boss!”
The bandit leader smiled in satisfaction at the rage flashing across Jurod's face.