by A L Hardy
“This court is adjourned!” Tennlka declared. He rose swiftly and spun out of the room, leaving Xardan bound and kneeling in the center of the floor. Duryg followed right on Tennlka's heels through the less than elaborate halls of Learth's city hall. They came up to the door where Tennlka had established his temporary office and Duryg entered first before returning to bring Tennlka in. Duryg took his position by the door and stared out the window at the courtyard, and Tennlka sat at his desk and began to sort through a stack of paperwork.
Time passed slowly; the couple of minutes before the knock sounded on the door seemed to take hours to Duryg. When Tennlka looked up and motioned to Duryg, the Tyrn reached over and opened the door.
Earl Learth was loyal to Tennlka, but only just. It was a concern of Duryg's what would happen with the Earl after the court as he had always been an ally of Xardan's and had provided him refuge on multiple occasions.
“Earl Brath of Riverguard?” the Earl asked.
“The Late Earl Brath of Riverguard.” Tennlka corrected.
“I wasn't aware he had been named Earl. I definitely had never seen him in counsel.”
“I named him the morning of Xardan's attack.” Tennlka answered.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Otherwise Xardan wouldn't have been guilty of treason.”
“So you charged Xardan with treason because you had named Brath as Earl? Or you named Brath as Earl so that you could charge Xardan with treason?”
Tennlka rose slowly and glowered bitterly at Earl Learth, “What are you accusing me of, Earl?”
“Nothing,” he simply replied, his face paling slightly, “Absolutely nothing.”
Without another word, Earl Learth turned and left the room.
*
It was late in the night on the third day of Xardan's punishment in the stocks. In the square, the Kin guards began to nod off as the night grew old, though the Trelir that were with them remained as alert as ever.
Jurod, Ilays, and Aramill moved through the streets of Learth, Disguised as two Kin with a Trelir so as not to stand out to innocent civilians, striking with bows, swords, and knives exactly as soldiers appeared. Silently, swiftly, the trio made their way to a leather worker's shop only a street away from where Xardan was held.
Aramill chanted in a strange language, and the lock on the door clicked open.
“How did you...” Jurod fumbled.
“Magic.” Aramill replied, moving into the building.
They had chosen to sneak into this shop due to its positioning near where Xardan was being held in the stocks. However, Jurod decided to take the opportunity to acquire some leather armor while they were passing through.
As it turned out, the leather worker did not keep a large stock of armors, but Aramill was able to find a studded vest as Jurod selected a pair of matching bracers. Hurrying with ties and buckles, Ilays and Aramill got Jurod into the armor and the three made their way to the back staircase. From the attic, Aramill opened a small door that took them onto the roof and from there, the trio moved slowly to look over the peak of the building.
“Come together now,” Aramill instructed, “There are three of us, and a dozen of them.”
“We've had worse odds.” Ilays announced.
“Indeed.” Jurod agreed, “Ilays alone could nearly kill them all.”
“Yes, but how quickly?” Aramill asked, “And at what cost? We cannot have Xardan killed in our attempt at rescuing him.”
“I assume that you have a plan then?” Ilays responded.
“Listen closely,” Aramill instructed, “Jurod, you wait here while Ilays and I follow the roof tops around to the north and southwest buildings. From those vantage points, Ilays and I will fire down at the soldiers as fast as we can, while you, Jurod, will find a way to drop down and get to Xardan. Find out where he hid the book! On my mark; when I fire my first shot, get into the square as fast as possible!”
Ilays and Jurod both nodded their understanding and without another word, all three jumped into action. Ilays ran gracefully along to the north, and Aramill ran gracefully toward the southwest. Jurod took some rope from his pack and wrapped one end around a chimney several times before tying it off and throwing the other end down into the alley below. Jurod checked several of his throwing knives and loosened his mithril blade in its worn scabbard before he climbed over the edge and gripped the rope tightly in both hands.
Jurod lowered slowly, stopping at the bottom of the rope, with his feet still ten feet above the pavement of the alley below. Considering the drop, Jurod heard the hum of a bowstring and knew that his time was up. Another bowstring hummed from the rooftops and Jurod gritted his teeth and let go of the rope. Pain shot through his legs as he hit the pavement, but he managed to pull out a pair of knives as he limped toward the square.
Focusing to relieve the pain and heal the very minor wound, Jurod headed toward the square only to find that a Trelir and three Kin already lay dead. Analyzing the situation quickly, Jurod threw one of his knives at the first soldier he saw and caught a Trelir in the throat. A gargling scream escaped the Trelir’s mouth as Jurod drew his sword and finished her.
A horn blew from across the square, and though Ilays's arrow cut the call short, two others from around the city answered it.
Jurod spun and parried the cleave of a Kin’s axe and an arrow caught the soldier through the chest before Jurod could finish him. Jumping over the Kin’s corpse, Jurod threw a ball of Drashyre at the Trelir running toward him.
Reaching the stocks, Jurod found Xardan's head drooped in peaceful slumber. Sheathing his sword, Jurod slapped Xardan several times on his cheek until the Knight's eyes fluttered open.
“Xardan?” Jurod asked, “Xardan, can you hear me?”
Xardan seemed incoherent and his eyes wouldn't focus on Jurod, but he nodded as well as he could in the stocks.
“Xardan, it is important for you to tell me,” Jurod continued, “Where is the spell book?”
The hum of bowstrings preceded the arrows that whistled past Jurod's ear, thankfully missing their mark. Flickering blue light illuminated the score of soldiers in the dark street as the two balls of Jurod’s Drashyre engulfed a pair of the archers. Overhead, Ilays fired an arrow into the ranks, ran to the edge of the roof, and jumped into the square.
Aramill did the same, but began chanting an odd song in a strange language as he jumped off the roof.
Time slowed as Jurod watched Aramill drift slowly to the ground and land safely without a single flinch of pain. The tip of a blade caught Jurod's chin and he realized that while time appeared to slow while Aramill fell, it was only Aramill's fall that had slowed.
Aramill crossed the clearing with speed that Ilays couldn’t have matched. Pulling his gladius, Aramill caught the soldier's next strike and planted his empty hand on the soldier's stomach.
Aramill chanted another odd song in his strange language; small bolts of lightning shot from Aramill's hand and sent the soldier flying across the courtyard.
A soldier with an axe and shield rushed forward, swinging down at Aramill. The paladin spun and cut off the soldier's hand then thrust his sword through the man’s heart. With the soldier held still on his blade, Aramill took the seconds necessary to rip the shield off his foe's arm; breaking the bone in the process.
With sword and shield, Aramill turned to three soldiers wielding short spears as he heard Xardan mumbling incoherently behind him.
The first spear thrust glanced off Aramill's shield, and the soldier behind it was dead before the second thrust came. Stepping to the side, Aramill drove his blade into the soldier's chest, but met too great resistance to pull it out before the third spearman closed in. Pushing the corpse back to leave his sword exposed, Aramill evaded the last spear and caught the haft of the weapon and slammed his shield into the soldier's head. Dazed, the soldier released his grip on the spear and Aramill swung the tip around to catch his throat.
Aramill took the spear in his left hand in
somewhat of an awkward hold behind his shield and pulled his sword out with his right, using his foot to push the corpse down as he wrenched the blade upward.
“Jurod,” Aramill instructed, “You keep the soldiers at bay, and I’ll try to rouse Xardan!”
Jurod nodded his understanding and hefted his blade. Turning out to the square, Jurod saw all the newly arrived soldiers were Kin wearing the tabard of Faelhart.
Jurod slashed twice at the nearest soldier and dropped the slower, less experienced Kin. Glancing to his right, he noticed a soldier with an arrow trained on Ilays. With as much speed and accuracy as he could, Jurod threw one of his knives, burying it down to the hilt in the man’s eye. As he collapsed, his arrow missed its mark and flew into the distance just missing several soldiers on the rooftops.
More soldiers were arriving at the square, Trelir and Kin alike, and horns were sounding all around the city now. Jurod conjured his strength and a wave of Drashyre spread away from the center of the square, engulfing a dozen soldiers in the magical fire.
As the fiery blast dissipated, three Trelir soldiers closed the distance to Jurod. Their speed easily rivaled that of Ilays. Knowing that each of these women were experienced swordsmen Jurod spun the blade as fast as he could, giving strength and Drashyre to as many blows as he could manage. Catching one blade in a high bind, Jurod seized the woman’s wrist, shifted the bind down to stomach level, and shoved the Trelir, sword first, into her comrade.
A high shriek escaped the throat of the dying Trelir as Jurod stepped back and drove the blade home into his first opponent's back. Spinning to the sound of a war cry, Jurod found the third Trelir’s spear lunging too quickly. Leaning away from the thrust, the spear grazed across Jurod's shoulder just as Aramill's spear flew into the woman’s thigh.
Blade in hand, Aramill finished the Trelir and retrieved the fallen spear.
“This isn't working!” Aramill shouted over the cry of the horns, “We've got to get out of here! Ilays will meet us outside the city!”
“What about Xardan?” Jurod asked as he easily slashed down another Kin.
“I've gotten all I can from him!” Aramill answered, lunging into a charging Trelir.
“Aren't we going to try and save him!?”
“Do you dare to try right now?” Aramill snapped, “Keep in mind, he's too drugged to do anything of his own accord!”
Jurod hesitated in his response as a Trelir ignited with Drashyre, “I'll clear a path.”
Turning toward the west gate, Jurod and Aramill chased waves of Drashyre while striking at any Trelir or Kin that got within blade's reach. Three streets away from the square, a soldier flew through the door of a tavern on a large bout of flames. As soon as the flames dissipated, Ilays followed him out and slashed at his throat.
“Ilays!” Jurod shouted.
Ilays's purple glazed eyes turned to the sound of Jurod's voice and the three ran toward each other.
“We'll never make it out!” Ilays concluded, “The city is on full alert by now. Every guard has been roused and armed, and every gate has tripled its normal guard duty.”
“Come down this alley.” Aramill ordered.
Moving down the nearest alley, Aramill opened an unlocked cellar door and motioned inside.
Jurod took point down the stairs, and found the cellar full of shelves of food and casks of drinks. Looking down the aisles of shelves and racks, Jurod only sheathed his blade when he determined there was no one else in the room.
Reaching through the ring on his finger, Jurod Focused and cast a ward on the closed doorway and replicated the other two spells Ilays had already cast on it.
Without making any light, and as little noise as necessary, the three established the watch schedule as they settled in for the night.
“Hopefully whoever owns this cellar doesn't come looking for anything.” Ilays stated calmly as she threw out her bedroll.
Chapter 15
The Kin would not be defeated so easily - an Alliance was formed between the Desert-Kin, the High-Kin, and the Ibeald and together they broke the Penshalt. Determined not to allow their new race to be defeated so easily, the Titans invoked the Shattering to destroy the other races and break the world; but the ritual was turned against them, and they were forced to retreat and abandon their Penshalt. Without their masters, the Penshalt fractured and many took to the sea - becoming the Urthendrain.
*
Dawn came early and Ilays looked over Jurod's wounds and ensuring his Disguise still held as Aramill knelt on a blanket with his head pressed against the floor, muttering in the language that neither Ilays nor Jurod understood.
Jurod rose and started rolling and repacking his bedroll. Aramill had risen and packed his blanket before Jurod finished.
“What language were you speaking?” Ilays asked.
“It's the Temple language,” Aramill replied, “Used by paladins and priests to speak with the Gods.”
Ilays scoffed at the mention of the gods, but continued to oil and polish her scimitar's blade.
“Ah yes!” Aramill exclaimed, “The typical response of a Lythrain!”
“I'll believe in a god when they appear before me!” Ilays answered.
“But the god's powers rely completely on the faith of their followers.” Aramill retorted, “If they were to appear before you, then your faith would become knowledge; and that is useless to them.”
“Then show me their power!” Ilays mocked, “Prove to me that they care about the petty cares of mortals!”
“That is the power that I wield!” Aramill argued, “All the magic that I use is the power of my god!”
Jurod looked confusedly at the pair until Aramill explained.
“I don't Focus to cast my spells.” Aramill said, “Instead, I pray to my god, the Pacifist, and he casts my spells for me.”
“So you can't be Guarded?” Jurod ventured.
“No.” Aramill responded, “But I don't have the same control over my spells that a wizard does either.”
“Yes, and the Lythrain are aware of countless powers and sources of magic,” Ilays continued, “Your power is no proof of any god, simply proof of your own misinterpretation of what you're doing!”
Aramill shook his head as he strapped his bags and bow onto his back, belted on his sword and quiver around his waist, and lifted his spear and shield.
“The heart of the unbeliever cannot be changed with words!” Aramill quoted, “Now, if we're to get out of here alive we need to keep one step ahead of our enemies.
“We should start moving now.”
“What?” Ilays asked, “We can't start moving now, we have to wait until nightfall!”
Aramill raised his hand for silence as he ascended the steps and slowly lifted the cellar door.
Jurod and Ilays rushed around the cellar rolling and packing their gear. By the time they had both prepared to leave, Aramill returned with a fresh scratch on his shield and blood on the tip of his spear.
“Patrols are heavy.” Aramill announced, “We'll want to take to the roofs and keep low to avoid being seen.”
“Avoid being seen!” Ilays scoffed, “In broad day light!?”
“We'll be sitting ducks!” Jurod exclaimed.
“Yes.” Aramill admitted, “But they know we didn't escape last night. They will not expect us to try again until sunset at least, so the patrols will be even heavier come nightfall.”
“Even with the heavier patrols,” Ilays replied, “We will stand a much higher chance of success at night!”
Aramill looked over Jurod and Ilays with calm sincerity.
“Trust me?” was all he said.
Despite Ilays's protests, the three left the cellar late in the morning. Ilays cast a spell of suspicion, doubt, and caution over the front of the alley to hide them from the patrols as Aramill took one end of another rope conjured from Jurod’s bag and used two long, pin-like rods to scale the wall.
After Aramill secured the rope, Jurod and Ilays followed
him up onto to the roof and the three made their way up to the peak while crouching as low down onto the roof as possible.
Instead of moving toward the gate, Aramill took them past several back alleys until they were on a peak directly across from the wall itself. The distance was about ten feet between the peak of the house and the wall, and it was immediately apparent what Aramill planned to do. He waited for the next patrol to pass and jumped the distance onto the wall. Ilays and Jurod followed as Aramill tied off the rope and threw it down the far side.
“Go down and get hidden.” Aramill instructed, “The next patrol will come before I can get all the way down, so I'll have to wait and kill them before I start or they'll cut the rope while I'm only a quarter of the way down.”
Ilays took the rope and started down the wall, and Jurod followed as she made it half way down. When both made it to the ground and started for cover, they heard the sound of bowstrings and turned to see Aramill atop the wall firing repeatedly into a group of soldiers that were closing on him fast.
Tossing his bow over his shoulder, Aramill hefted his spear and shield and met his attackers' charge.
“Can we help him?” Jurod asked.
“Not without giving away our position or further endangering him.”
The pair heard the chanting of Aramill's Temple language and several bolts of lightning struck into the guards atop the walls. Aramill slumped back, evading an opponent's spear, and tumbled, seemingly unconscious, off the walls. Jurod felt Ilays Focus and saw her spell to catch and safely lower Aramill. Using magic Jurod had only seen Lewk use, he watched a bright flash of light engulf Ilays.
Amazed by what he saw, he watched Ilays’ almost perfect control of magic at work when Aramill’s unconscious body disappeared immediately after the first flash of light. That same flash of light appeared farther back in the forest and Jurod started moving toward it.
*
After arriving in Faelhart, Duryg spent years learning to ride and fight from a horse. Even with the King's gift of the largest warhorse that the Kingdom had ever seen, Duryg preferred to fight with his feet on the ground.