Spring Showers Box-set

by Avell Kro

  “I had hoped to return to London, to my family.” He looked up at the mighty form in front of him. “I

  was forced here by the actions of others, then retained against my will. I had to watch my best

  friend die with men who hated him.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “His family

  should know what happened.”

  God looked at him with compassion and understanding.

  “Do you believe his family needs to hear he was killed by a demon?” He asked. “Would you be able

  to return to a normal life in London, knowing the evil that is rampaging through this land?”

  Mikel shook his head. “Do I have to decide tonight?”

  “No, but you cannot retain the gifts I’ve given you if you decide to go home.” He turned his gaze to Raphael. “What of you? Will you return to your commanding officer?”

  “No,” Raphael replied. “This is my home. I cannot allow it to be destroyed. I’ve seen the demons’

  strength and unrelenting death.”

  “There is a small village two days south of here, at the base of the mountain that is surrounded by

  plateaus. You will understand my description when you see it.” He turned to leave, but hesitated. “If

  you decide to fight against this foe, I will lead you into the mountain to begin your preparations.”

  Chapter 20

  Mikel

  Mikel stared at Raphael as the sun streamed into the mouth of the cave. They had the same

  argument for the last two hours. Raphael stood, stretching his arms above his head.

  “My mind is made up. You may join me if you wish,” Raphael said.

  He gathered his numerous knives, placing them in the hidden sheaths within his vest. He went to

  the mouth of the cave and started untying the string of bones stretched across the entrance. Mikel

  heard him chuckle.

  “What can you possibly find funny about our situation?” Mikel asked, raising his voice. “We’ve

  been thrown together, unwillingly I might add, to gather an army to fight against a foe that seems

  unbeatable.” He rose to his feet and approached Raphael. “I have no desire to fill this role. I want to

  go back to my family and live a normal life.”

  He placed his hand on Raphael’s shoulder and forced him to turn. The scout’s bronze features

  displayed a mischievous smirk.

  “My little trap didn’t work on God, did it?” Raphael asked, shaking the string of bones in his hand.

  “He never even questioned them or their lack of effectiveness.” His icy blue orbs looked directly

  into Mikel’s eyes. “We can speak to and understand one another, even after he left. He’s given you

  an amazing gift with that sword. I wish you could see it the way I do. It’s so much more than just a

  blade. I can feel the energy pulsing with each swirl of color. I can only imagine the strength it would

  give you, if you embraced its magic.” He shook his head and his smile faded. “I’m awed by the gift

  he gave me. Everything looks different now. I’m not sure I can explain it, but I can see and feel how

  the moth stays in flight and how the fire burns.” He pointed to the small flames still flickering in

  the ring of stones near them. “He gave me knowledge of spel s that I need to understand.” He tied

  the rope around his waste and tucked the bones into a pouch on his belt. “I will use these gifts to

  save the country I love-the people I love. I believe we’re supposed to do it together, but I’ll not

  abandoned this task regardless of your choice.”

  Mikel fumed. All he wanted was to go back to England; to pretend that none of this happened. Did

  he really care if an army of demons slaughtered a bunch of savages? He could leave them all behind

  and forget about them. He looked at Raphael with determination.

  “I’l find a way back to the coast on my own.”

  He saw the look of disappointment in the scout’s eyes as he turned to leave.

  “Mikel, your hands are no longer glowing,” he said softly and disappeared into the nearby trees.

  Mikel looked at his hands. Raphael was right, the soft glow that surrounded them for the last two days was gone.

  He said I could not keep the gift if I decided to go home, why would I have doubted His word?

  He dropped to his knees in despair.

  I cannot find the coast on my own, and I’ve already demonstrated that I cannot survive in this bloody

  wilderness. My death is certain without God’s gift.

  He looked around the empty cave in resignation. He couldn’t forget about the demons, nor could he

  leave this place knowing they would kill or enslave everyone here. He was selfish by nature, but he

  wasn’t heartless. His family likely assumed him dead and the sadness from that thought alone

  drove his despair farther.

  “How can I do this? I’m not a great man destined to lead others into battle.” His voice echoed

  through the empty cave, but he received no answer.

  He pushed himself from the rocky ground and followed Raphael.

  Chapter 21

  Mikel

  Two days later, they crouched at the edge of the jungle just outside the small village at the base of

  the mountain. Sounds of battle stretched across the open space and the two men looked at each

  other with fear.

  “I hope that’s another local tribe and not a group of demons,” Raphael said as he pulled a dagger

  from his vest.

  “I agree,” Mikel replied. “I don’t suppose you have a spare one?” He pointed at Raphael’s weapon.

  “Certainly.” He retrieved another dagger, flipped it over and handed the hilt to Mikel.

  He accepted it hesitantly, looking at the long blade and bone handle. He now regretted the decision

  that forfeited his blade of light.

  “Let’s see what they’re facing.”

  They remained hidden in the thick foliage until they reached an opening in the small huts. Mikel’s

  breath caught in his throat when he saw several large demons pass across the opening.

  “Someone is fighting against the demons,” Raphael whispered. “Let’s see if we can find them and

  possibly help. Stay close and follow me.”

  Mikel tried to swallow his fear and trailed after Raphael. They maneuvered between the buildings

  and emerged into the center of the village that was now nothing more than smoldering ruins.

  Three demons battled against a dozen men covered in plate armor, bearing large bastard swords

  and broad shields. Two demons laid dead at their feet.

  “They killed two of the demons,” Mikel whispered in surprise.

  “What can we do to help them?” Raphael asked. “Do you think you and I can take one on our own?”

  Mikel looked over at the scout and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I can’t stand here and do nothing,” Raphael replied, pul ing a short-bladed dagger from his vest. “I

  did that twice already. I would rather die than live with the guilt of my cowardice.” He grasped his

  weapon by the blade and threw it at the closest demon. It bounced off the back of the creature’s

  neck. It turned its red, glowing eyes towards the pair.

  “Bloody hell!” Mikel cursed. “I’ll focus on its left side if you get the right.”

  Raphael nodded and they both crouched into a lose fighting stance. The demon sauntered towards them with a feral grin, holding his massive axe just below the blade. When it was within striking

  distance, the demon flipped the axe in the air, catching the handle and swinging it towards

  Raphael’s head. The scout ducked, rolling to one side and drawi
ng the demon’s attention. Mikel

  lunged, attempting to stab the creature between its ribs. His blade glanced off the demon’s thick

  hide, drawing its attention away from Raphael.

  “Your dagger cannot pierce its hide!” Mikel yelled as hescrambled backwards to avoid an overhead

  slice from the enormous axe.

  The demon swung again. Mikel ducked, avoiding the blade, but the creature’s massive elbow

  grazed his head and dropped him to his knees. Mikel struggled to rise, knowing the demon

  prepared his killing blow. He raised his head and watched Raphael leap in the air, with a fierce cry

  on his lips. He landed on the demon’s back, reigning blows onto its neck and shoulders. The demon

  stumbled for moment, then reached back and grabbed the scout by the throat. It pulled him over

  its shoulder, holding him aloft with one hand. Raphael thrashed, stabbing relentlessly at his

  capturer’s forearms.

  Fury boiled in Mikel’s chest as he watched Raphael’s face turn purple from lack of air. He knew in

  his heart he could not let this man die. He thought of the gift he had forfeited, the selfishness in

  that decision, and the regret that it would now cost not only his life, but this entire village.

  Please, forgive my selfishness and ignorance.

  He felt his arm tingle and warmth bloom in his chest. He looked down at his hand and hoped to see

  a blade of light. He was not disappointed as the sword emerged, filling with him strength and

  determination.

  He turned his focus on the demon holding Raphael and with a single, sweeping strike, removed its

  head. Raphael fell to the ground, gasping for air.

  “Will you be okay?” Mikel asked, extending his free hand to help him stand.

  “Yes,” Raphael replied in a raspy voice, rubbing his neck. “I’m glad you changed your mind.” He

  nodded towards Mikel’s sword and a thin smile crept across his face.

  “I need to make a difference and change the course of this battle.”

  Mikel turned towards the remaining demons, raised his sword in the air and charged into the fray.

  He impaled the closest demon, sinking his blade into its chest. It fell to one knee, swinging its axe

  towards Mikel’s head. He pulled his sword free and moved it to block the demon’s arm, but instead

  severed it at the elbow. He watched in horror and fascination as the axe fell to ground with a thud,

  the clawed hand still gripping the handle. The demon stared at him in disbelief, and Mikel removed

  its head as wel .

  Raphael appeared at Mikel’s side.

  “I’l distract them, while you kill them,” he said as another demon stepped away from the battle with the armored warriors. He dove towards the creature’s knees and rolled away, making it

  stumble. Mikel rushed forward, stabbing it in the chest and dragging the blade down towards the

  monster’s groin. Black blood poured from its abdomen as it fell.

  Mikel quickly turned to find Raphael side by side with one of the armored warriors. A large dent

  marred the warrior’s helm and blood dripped from the arm that hung useless at his side. The

  demon they faced back-handed Raphael, sending him soaring into the air. It lifted its axe high to

  cleave the warrior in two, and Mikel leapt towards the creature’s back.

  He raised his sword high above his head, with the blade pointed towards the ground. The sword’s

  light disappeared into the base of the monster’s skull and emerged from its chest. The warrior

  rolled to the side as the demon fell forward. Mikel released his sword and it vanished.

  He looked around for another foe, but they all laid on the ground dead or dying. He rushed to

  Raphael’s side. The scout’s head was bleeding and his shoulder was turned at an unnatural angle.

  Large, purple bruises circled his neck where the demon strangled him.

  “Raphael!”

  Mikel tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt and pressed it to the bleeding wound on his scalp.

  Raphael moaned and opened his eyes. He tried to rise and cried out in pain.

  “That’s a little uncomfortable,” he said between gasps of pain.

  “Don’t move,” Mikel instructed. “I’m certain your shoulder is dislocated and possibly broken. I’l try

  to find help.”

  Mikel stood and looked around the small village. A large warrior, covered in bloody plate armor

  walked towards him, followed by six or more men, each injured from the battle. The leader slid the

  helm from his head, revealing a woman.

  Mikel stared at her in disbelief. The ease in which she carried her dual-bladed axe identified her

  profession, and her tall, muscular frame defined her strength, but the softness in her eyes and the

  curve of her hips gave away her femininity. Was she really their leader? The men surrounding her

  acted as if it were so. Their posture, the slight distance behind her giving her deference yet also

  conveying protection.

  She stopped a few paces from him, eyeing him with a calculated stare.

  “How many did we lose, Mark?” she asked, not turning her gaze from Mikel.

  “Antonio and William are gone,” the man to her immediate right replied. “Frederick will not likely

  survive his injuries.”

  A grave look crossed her features and she did not hide her fierce emotions.

  “See to the wounded,” she commanded. “Prepare our lost for the journey home.”

  Mark nodded and motioned for several others to follow him. Mikel was amazed at their strength.

  Each of them sustainedinjuries yet would take care of their fellow soldiers’ needs first.

  “Thank you.” The female warrior knelt on one knee before Mikel. “Without your intervention, I

  would have lost all of them.”

  “Please stand,” he said, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I did what I thought was right. I

  couldn’t stand by while this village was slaughtered.”

  “You graced us with your strength and saved my men,” she replied still kneeling. “The gods do not

  intervene without purpose. Tell me what you wish of me.”

  Mikel choked on his laugh and kneelednext to the warrior.

  “I am no god. Now rise and let’s tend to the wounded. My friend is hurt.”

  The woman looked at him with confusion, but slowly stood.

  “Surely, you have been blessed by the gods,” she said. “I saw the sword you wielded.”

  “What is your name?” Mikel asked, trying to avoid her question.

  “Adalina, Daughter of the Captain’s Guard to Queen Penthesilea.”

  “I’m Mikel,” he replied, a little confused by her title.She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Just Mikel?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “Mikel Davis. Born and raised in London, England, but no one special.”

  “I doubt that.” She grunted and turned towards another of her men. “See to his friend.”

  Chapter 22

  Mikel

  There was not a building large enough to house all the injured. Raphael was coherent enough to

  act as a translator between Mikel and the villagers, after one of Adalina’s warriors pushed his

  shoulder back into its socket. He was still pale, and didn’t try to move from his seat, but he was able

  to give clear instructions. They put together enough cloth for a covered awning and provided clean

  straw to make pallets for the men to lay on.

  Mikel directed several dark-skinned men carrying bundles of straw, as well as several women

  transporting large, clay pots full of water. He was interrupted by the sound of a woman’s voic
e

  speaking English, with a British accent.

  “Get out of my way!” she exclaimed. “You cannot put injured men on piles of straw, exposed to the

  sun and other frightful elements.”

  Mikel turned around to see a petite woman, wearing a pale blue dress, the skirt gathered in her

  hands to keep it from dragging in the dirt. The look on her face was fierce, but it didn’t hide her

  beauty. Her blond hair fell around her round face, and her thin lips were set in a determined line.

  One of the villagers pointed towards Mikel and she turned her gaze on him. At first, she looked

  surprised, but it quickly turned to anger.

  “I should have known an arrogant Englishman would be in charge of this mess.”

  “I am not arrogant,” Mikel said defensively. “And what makes you think I’m English?”

  “Your reply confirmed your heritage and all Englishmen are arrogant.”

  She crossed her arms against her chest and tried to make herself appear taller. She barely reached

  Mikel’s chest. He suppressed a grin and bowed.

  “My name is Mikel Davis, my lady.”

  Mikel watched as she struggled. It was obvious her upbringing required her to reply. She huffed

  loudly and extended her hand to him.

  “Magdelin Lange, my lord.”

  He kissed her fingers and noticed the edges of her lips twitch slightly.

  “What can I do for you, Lady Magdelin?”

  “These men cannot stay in the open air with their injuries,” she said, pointing towards the dozens of warriors and villagers in various states of consciousness. “Infection sets in quickly in the jungle.

  We need to find a way to move them inside.”

  “You’re a physician?” Mikel asked in surprise, knowing that English women could not study

  medicine.

  “You know I am not,” she replied curtly. “My late husband was, and I assisted him daily. It is not

  difficult to learn from someone as talented as he.” A look of sadness passed over her features, but

  she schooled them quickly.

  “I apologize, but unless you know something I do not, there is not a place large enough for these

  men. According to Raphael, the villagers are reluctant to have the warriors in their homes.” Mikel