Kingdom's Forge: Book 01 - Paladin's Redemption

by Kade Derricks

  Teldrain looked up from the map and stared at him, searching his face before speaking.

  From his corner, Jace laughed.

  “You are,” the king said. “They are using a quiver full of arrows to track you. Arrows you left behind in Galena, perhaps. Our magics protect us from being tracked even if they possess an item of ours, but the spell’s protections do not extend to humans. There’s never been a reason for them to.”

  Dain’s breath caught. This, then, was the source of Jace’s rage. Not the whole of it certainly, but the final straw. He had brought the Golden right to the last wood elf refuge. Guilt began to eat at him. What had he done? The blood of an entire people would be on his hands if the Golden weren’t stopped. He would not, could not, let that happen. All remaining doubts and thoughts of riding on with his gold melted to nothing.

  “Can I lead them away, then?” Dain asked.

  “We don’t believe their spell works quite like that. We think it is more like a hound following a scent trail,” one of the armored elves answered.

  “Dain, this is Larcet. He’s the most experienced man we have at fighting the Golden. Standing next to him is Frexe. He is in charge of the city’s defenses.”

  Both nodded to Dain during their introductions. Like Jace, each was angry with him. He could see it in their expressions. The older elves just masked it better.

  “Then they are following my trail here. If I backtrack along it and branch off away from Teran, I could confuse them and perhaps draw them further from the city. At the very least, it would buy you some time to evacuate,” Dain suggested.

  Jace slammed his fist into one of the great hall’s pillars.

  “No! Father, do not listen to this human. We can hold the city and defeat the Golden as we always have,” he said in perfect Common. “This so-called paladin is a trickster. He works with the Golden to draw them here.”

  “He is no trickster, brother,” Sera interjected. She marched close to Jace, stepping up in his face to stare up at him. Although shorter than he, she seemed the more powerful of the pair. Her calm, clear voice was filled with righteousness. “Dain killed Haldrin and saved Jin. He didn’t have to do either. He acted out of his own sense of honor. This war isn’t his, it is ours, and you, Jace, are a fool. Your own jealousy and pride blind you like some rabid beast. Dain is not the enemy. Were it not for him Jin and father would both be dead.”

  “Traitorous who—” Jace started, but Sera interrupted her brother, slapping him across the face. The sound echoed through the silent hall and left a bright red handprint on his cheek.

  “Do not speak to me, fool,” she said. “Leave this place and spread your venomous lies elsewhere if you must.”

  Wearing a shocked expression, Jace looked to his father with a hand to his cheek. Teldrain said nothing. Scowling, he turned to go. He shot Dain a dark look, his gaze never wavering as he departed. Dain resolved then and there to never turn his back on the bitter elf again.

  Teldrain waited until after the prince was gone, then continued.

  “Backtracking may well delay them as you say. I can have a pair of my scouts assist you. In the meantime, we must consider the best use of our soldiers. My people have little knowledge of this kind of warfare. We fought as occasional raiders once our ancestors settled into the valley, and remember precious little of siegecraft. What experience do you have?” Teldrain asked.

  “Some. I acted mainly as a scout before, but I did help besiege several fortifications. I will offer what I can.”

  “Good. We shall heed your counsel. What is it you would suggest?”

  Teldrain, Larcet, Frexe and the other elves in attendance looked to him for an answer. Dain wasn’t sure they would like what he would propose.

  “The only way to stop the Golden is to destroy this army completely, and Elam needs to perish with it.”

  “Agreed. How do you propose we do that?”

  “Teran, while a beautiful city, is also a deathtrap,” Dain said. He hesitated before speaking further. How could he convince them? “The Golden will have the high ground almost immediately and, from the canyon rim, they will build heavy equipment and bombard the city with stone and fire. I would also expect their mages to shower the city with any destructive spells they possess. Teran is completely indefensible.”

  “I expected as much,” Teldrain said. His resolve was surprising. There was iron in his tone. “Now, what is it you suggest, champion?”

  “I would like to take more than a pair of scouts with me.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dain crouched low in the dense underbrush. The morning’s crisp air smelled of sweetclover and cleansing rain. Starved mosquitos buzzed around his ears, but swatting them rattled his chainmail. He couldn’t afford that. Today, silence was his best ally. From his perch on the ridge, he could study the trail below for miles. Fifty wood elves lay hidden nearby, waiting for the golden elf troops to pass below. Like himself, each took shelter behind boulders or fallen trees for concealment.

  Slow minutes passed by as the sounds of the marching army drew nearer.

  Before they had left Teran, the wood elf spellcrafters had enchanted a small round stone taken from the river bottom to mask his presence from the golden mages. The wood elves claimed that river stones—those submerged for years near to the valley’s deep magics—could hold a spellcasting for decades. Sera had placed it in a small deerskin pouch and hung it on a leather strap around his neck.

  Whether the stone really did hide him or no, Dain rubbed it through the leather with his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the smoothness and hoping for a bit of luck. He would need it in the moments ahead.

  Engaging the heavily protected mages and scouts at the army’s vanguard would have been a waste of time. They were alert and ready for an attack. He wasn’t about to hit the Golden where they were strongest; where they expected trouble. Too much risk for too little gain, he’d warned Larcet. There were better targets to be had. The next layer of troops, for instance, were relaxed and had grown overconfident as they marched. Dain could see it in their casual gait and the easy way they carried their weapons and talked among each other. They were neither alert nor ready.

  Soon, the hours he and Larcet spent planning and preparing the ground below would pay off.

  The invading scouts and mages passed by without incident. The first lines of footsoldiers followed them. He saw several figures mounted on horseback gesturing at the soldiers, directing their steady march. Dain had ordered the ambushers to kill the mounted officers first, and he picked a tall one out for himself. The unfortunate fellow wore a green sash over one shoulder. It crossed just over his heart. A shining medal, round and bright brass, dangled from it. Dain drew his bow back. The brass would make an excellent target.

  He breathed deep, steady breaths, anticipating the attack and the officer’s next steps. He always found these final few moments before action to be the most taxing. Once the fighting started, all you could do was execute the plan, adapt, and react as needed. But here, in the quiet time before combat, his mind flooded with questions. Would they succeed? What if the enemy didn’t react as expected? What if they were discovered before the opening salvo of arrows? Too many little things could go wrong, and his mind rolled through them all over and over again while he waited.

  One of his hidden wood elves imitated a shrill owl call, signaling the attack. A few of the Golden turned at the sound, and by then three-dozen arrows were flying through the crisp morning air at the army below, their fletchings buzzing like angry hornets. Dain’s own shot missed the sash but took his target in the neck, killing the officer instantly. After the last arrows found their marks, before the invaders could react, the very earth beneath them sprang to life.

  Thick, ropelike vines wound their way among the army as wood elf mages conjured a maze of thorny brambles along the path, preventing the enemy from forming up into ranks and overlapping their shields for protection.

  The archers sent their arrows
at their own pace now. This time their aim sought out enemy spellcasters. Four of the robed elves stood directly below and, though their spells may have deflected or blocked the first few arrows, too many got though and found their marks. Dain’s own spellcasters continued to send more vines whipping down from the ridge, further entangling the soldiers below, and the archers sent one final volley into the troops now held fast in the enchanted tangle.

  Fresh enemy troops had now advanced from behind and golden elf archers began firing arrows of their own up at the ambushers. It was time to go. Dain led the raiders as they broke from cover. They scrambled up the ridge and over the crest, well beyond their enemy’s range. Dain and Larcet paused at the top waiting for the next part of the plan to unfold.

  Two wood elf spellcasters had remained behind. They stood near the path, low on the hillside, and drew on the elements to send a gust of hot, dry wind into the vines that had seized and trapped the invading soldiers. With the fuel ready, they then hurled a pair of scorching fireballs at the vines. The spells landed. Flames scattered everywhere, setting the vines ablaze. The spellcaster’s task complete, a pair of shapeshifters, in the guise of giant elk, grabbed them up and bounded off after the rest of the raiders.

  Dain watched it all from the height of the ridge. Though the fire had been his idea, the scene below haunted him. Soldiers hacked away at the burning vines, trying in vain to free themselves as their skin and hair first singed and then blackened. Those who fought themselves free had nowhere to go. Flames consumed everything. The inferno melted armor, turning it into glowing red heaps of slag and flesh. He heard the agonized screams. He smelled their burnt bodies. He steeled himself by thinking on what they wanted to do to the wood elves. What they wanted to do to Sera and Jin.

  The golden elf spellcasters might try to save them, Dain knew, but Teldrain and Larcet had assured him that the Golden had little talent for working with water. Their planar magic wouldn’t serve them well here.

  Horses waited for the raiders on the ridge’s opposite side. Mounting quickly, they fled into the forest, away from the rising smoke.

  A single ambush certainly wouldn’t destroy the golden elf invaders, Dain knew. The loss of a few hundred foot troops would do precious little to reduce Elam’s full strength. He tallied the golden’s losses. Between Jace’s botched earlier raid and today’s, they might have killed three or four hundred enemy soldiers. Thousands remained.

  Thousands that have now moved two days closer to Teran. Despite their lumbering pace, at their current rate the Golden would make the city in less than a week.

  Now they would move still slower, he hoped, and slowing the army down further would give the wood elves more time to evacuate their capital and in preparing Teran’s defenses. That had been the raid’s true purpose—to delay the enemy and buy Teldrain precious time.

  “Larcet, I’m going to try leading them off the trail. Hit them in the rear next time, as we planned, at tomorrow’s stream crossing,” Dain told the wood elf. Teldrain had split command between the two of them.

  “Luck to you, champion. I will see you at the city’s defense, if not sooner,” Larcet replied with a nod. The older commander led the raiders toward their temporary camp and Dain headed off.

  He rode for several hours in a wide circle back to the main trail toward Teran. The same trail he had taken after healing the king. The same trail the invaders now followed. Miles ahead, the same trail swept past the cabin he shared with Sera and Jin. Dain swallowed tightly.

  The Golden must be drawn off this path.

  He removed the enchanted stone and placed it in Boon’s saddlebag. The mages had claimed it wouldn’t work when put away. He hoped so. He would try buying Teldrain more time. He and Boon continued down the path until reaching a crossroads. He walked the warhorse in a circle a several times before taking the east road, leading away from Teran. By late tomorrow, a few hours after Larcet’s ambush, the golden elf army would find this place and, Dain prayed, follow his new trail away from Sera and Jin.

  Remembering Teldrain’s map, he knew that in another dozen miles this path ended in a large, boggy swamp. He meant to lead the Golden right into it. Their troops, in heavy armor, would have a difficult time crossing such an obstacle, if his plan succeeded. The swamp would also be the perfect area for another series of night attacks. Denying the Golden sleep would sap even their best soldier’s resolve.

  Unfortunately, the bog was equally rough going for he and Boon. Dain dismounted and led the warhorse deeper into the muck. Man and beast struggled to continue through the black, slimy mud. It clung to their feet, weighing down every step. Despite the plodding pace, Dain smiled, thinking of those proud Golden trapped in the muck. He prayed to the Light that his new trail would draw them this way. If he failed and the golden elf mages bypassed it, all his efforts would be for nothing. They would find Teran, the wood elves would fail to stop them, and he would be responsible for a second burning city and the deaths of thousands.

  Would the avenging rider of his dreams wear Sera’s face then, or Jin’s?

  By nightfall, he found a small mound, covering less than half an acre, but rising slightly above the surrounding mud and water. A pair of ancient, moss-covered cypress sheltered and dwarfed the tiny island. Eager to be free of the muck, he and Boon climbed up out of the bog and made camp for the night. Dain prepared a small fire and roasted a fat duck he’d had the good fortune to kill earlier during their crossing. After picking the bones clean, he licked his fingers free of grease.

  He thought it more than a little ironic that the last time he had a campfire to himself had been the night the white doe walked into his life. It seemed a long time ago, and yet the details remained vividly etched in his memory.

  The eager fire cracked and popped, consuming the slender sticks he fed it. Sera had warned him that parts of the swamp were inhabited by dog-sized spiders, so he blessed his own aura to repel wild animals. It wasn’t a common spell taught to paladins, but rather one his mother showed him as a child. It wouldn’t hold off large animals, but he would feel their approach. After such a full day, he felt weary down to his very bones. As he lay down, he listened to the night’s subtle noises. Deep-voiced frogs called out for their mates and crickets chirped their soothing lullabies. Dozens of fireflies weaved in and out of the mossy trees, lighting the bog glimpse by glimpse. At last, he faded off into sleep.

  Before sunrise, Dain had already covered three miles heading west out of the swamp. The enchanted masking stone hung around his neck once more as he trudged forward through the black, heavy mud.

  He turned due north at midday, hoping to sweep behind the golden elf army and meet back up with Larcet and the raiders. Two hours later, at the bog’s edge, he stopped to remove the clinging muck from Boon’s hooves.

  “I bet you’re as glad to be free of that muddy mess as I am, aren’t you?” he asked the warhorse.

  After cutting a leafy branch from a maple, Dain was leaning over to beat the horse’s front feet clean when a bolt of pain struck him. He turned and saw the white fletching of an arrow buried in his shoulder. He jerked upright as an arrow struck Boon’s flank and then barked a command for the great horse to flee. Acting on instinct, he dove headfirst into a low bush and another arrow punched through his leg.

  His landing was rough and he tried to get his bearings. He had some cover, but it wouldn’t last. There was a nice, bloody trail for them to follow.

  Shaking his head to clear away the fog of pain, Dain crawled to a nearby tree trunk and leveraged himself to his feet. He panted and looked at his wounds. The two arrows remained embedded in his shoulder and thigh. Shock held the worst of the pain away so far, dulling it to a steady ache. That wouldn’t last long. He had to escape before the pain crippled him. He could whistle Boon to return, but his enemies were surely watching. They would be waiting for the warhorse to lead them to him. He tried to walk, but his wounded leg ached and refused to bend.

  He grasped the stone still ha
nging around his neck. How had the Golden elves managed to find him?

  Limping, each step a fresh agony, he staggered back toward the muddy bog. His pursuers crashed through the brush behind, speaking in rapid Elvish. He heard Boon scream; the horse had been injured. Dain worried for his companion and hoped the loyal horse would flee for safety.

  “Run and find help,” he whispered in prayer then took a risk and warbled a high whistle, commanding the horse to do just that.

  Dain hobbled into a group of tall reeds and cattails, returning to the bog’s edge. Once there, he gripped the arrow shaft in his thigh. Just touching it caused him to clench his teeth tight. With a jerk he tore it free, fighting the waves of black oblivion that pressed in at the sides of his vision.

  The arrow in his shoulder proved more difficult to remove, but less painful. He stifled a yell and ripped it loose and then tossed both into the muddy water. Their iron points sank them to the bottom.

  The swamp here was surrounded by a slow-moving river of deeper water. Earlier, he and Boon had swum across it. Yards of open water stretched between his sheltering reeds and the nearest large swamp cypress. He would never survive the crossing. His attackers would see him and shoot more arrows. Peering back out of his shelter, away from the water, he spotted two wood elves each holding a bow and kneeling to study his blood trail. He didn’t recognize the first elf.

  The second was Jace.

  Sera’s brother rubbed blood between his fingers, smiling. The Golden hadn’t found him, Jace had. Dain considered his odds facing them, despite his injuries, and then heard more voices from deeper in the brush.

  Fighting so many would be impossible in his current state, and healing oneself always took tremendous energy. There was no way he could heal his wounds and maintain the strength to fight them.

  “Multiple attackers, all fighting from range. I’d be lucky to even reach Jace before the others kill me,” he muttered to himself.