Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1)

by Chris Mccready

  “I think that I should show them that there is always something worse to fear,” said Ravyn, climbing over the barricade and entering the square.

  Sidling to the left to stay out of the archers’ way, she called forth her power. A carefully contained inferno grew between her hands. When it had reached a raging intensity, she threw it into the midst of a group of Sibt. It exploded when it hit the ground, spraying them with molten magma. The attack itself wasn’t intended to kill them, but rather to distract them momentarily while the soldiers in the area took advantage. It worked as she had intended. The Sibt threw up their arms, attempting to protect themselves and were subsequently hacked down.

  She continued to rain down terror on her enemies, but they took notice of what she was doing. Twenty men separated themselves from the pack and headed her way. She took down four on the way, and the archers another six.

  Five of the men launched themselves over the barricade and began a bloody melee with the archers, but she couldn’t spare them any attention.

  Conserving her power for the moment, she met the five Sibt steel on steel. They tried to spread out to surround her, but she attacked before they were ready. A dive roll to her left took her under one’s guard, and a quick slash spilled his guts onto the ground. Spinning, her sword deflected the next attack. She staggered him with a strike to the nose with the palm of her hand.

  She danced right, before spinning left, nicking an attacker’s forearm with her blade. He momentarily took his eyes off of her to look at the wound and it cost him his life. Stepping over his body, she confronted the remaining three attackers. She engage two of them. Dancing back and forth, parrying their blows while the third circled behind her.

  She downed one with a savage slash to the throat, but felt a piercing pain as a sword bit into her side. Luckily a rib stopped the cut before it went too deep. She tried to twist away, but her eyes caught the second attacker’s sword descending, too late for her to parry the blow.

  An arrow protruded through his chest from behind and she spun and dispatched the remaining attacker whose sword had tasted her blood a moment ago.

  Nodding to the grizzled archer who was fitting another arrow to his bow, she turned back to the battle. Things were going poorly and people could use her help all over the battlefield when she heard a scream.

  “Help me! Please help me!”

  Scanning the square she found its source. A girl, roughly her own age, was climbing out a window and attempting to make her way along a narrow ledge outside of the building. A Sibt soldier was hanging out the window, his hand wrapped around her arm. Another soldier could be seen in the room behind him.

  Before she could launch an attack their way, the soldier yanked the girl’s arm, pulling her in front of him and blocking Ravyn’s shot. Ravyn raced towards the building as the girl was pulled through the window.

  Ravyn wished that she could fly up to the window, but she knew that was impossible, nor was there any way to climb up to it. Reaching the building, she saw all kinds of pottery carefully arranged on the other side of barred windows. She tried the door, but found that it was blocked from the inside. Throwing herself at it, she bounced off and fell to the ground. She could hear the cries from the window reaching a feverous pitch.

  She paused to think for a moment. If there was a back door, then it was probably locked as well. The windows would be no easier than the door. Suddenly it dawned on her, if her Gift could rend her enemies apart, then why not this door. A moment later she was inside, the door in pieces scattered on the floor.

  She ran through a door at the back of the room and climbed a narrow set of stairs to a living space above the business. She bashed her way through a door at the top of the stairs, deciding that haste was more important than stealth.

  She saw the men through an open door on her left. The girl lay on her back on a bed. One man was pinning her arms to the bed while the other one, dagger held between his teeth, was forcing the girl’s legs apart.

  Not bothering to give them any sort of warning, she grasped the dagger with her mind and flung it into the far wall, taking off the top of the man’s head in the process.

  His partner just stared at her. Ravyn came striding forward, but the girl was quicker. Twisting out of his grasp, she grabbed the knife from his belt and stabbed him in the chest, over and over again. She continued stabbing until Ravyn grabbed her from behind and pulled her off. The girl twisted around and looked ready to attack before realizing who held her.

  She wrapped herself around Ravyn and broke down sobbing.

  Dropping her sword, Ravyn sank down onto the bed covered in the blood of her attackers and held the girl, making soothing sounds. The girl sat across her lap, head cradled in her arm. Ravyn stroked the girls fine blond hair with her other hand. The sounds of battle and of death continued unabated outside, but Ravyn ignored every sound.

  The sobbing slowly subsided, and Ravyn gently positioned the girl onto the bed. She bent down and kissed her on the forehead before turning to make sure that nothing like this happened ever again.

  She bent down to pick up her fallen sword. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. Her jaw was tightly clenched, tendons showing in her neck. Her soft, pale skin was bloodless, as if dead. Sword held in a death grip, she descended the stairs and headed out into the square.

  The square was nearly empty of the living, but home to many dead. The barricades had been moved aside, the archers she had been with scant minutes ago lay scattered, dead. In a burst of anger she eliminated the living, the ground erupted in explosions under their feet, lightning fell from a cloudless sky, and the blood red water in the fountains turned to shards of ice which flew and pierced their flesh.

  If she had stayed here, she might have been able to protect them, held off the invaders as the archers cut them down with their arrows, but she couldn’t have left the girl to that terrible fate. She momentarily lost her resolve, a single tear escaped her eye before she locked down her emotions again.

  Her mother always told her to not worry about the past. Assess what happened, learn from it, and improve. Ravyn wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Nothing would distract her this time.

  With purposeful strides, she retraced her steps out of the square, past the ruined barricades, and over the bodies.

  The remaining defenders had clearly fled, and it took her a while to catch up to the Sibt. She had nearly made her way back to the building where she’d first found herself, when she caught up to them.

  Four Sibt came out of a cobbler’s shop, ill-fitting boots replacing the sandals on their feet, and more loaded in their arms.

  She barely slowed her pace as she mowed them down. Her sword tasted the blood of two of them and her magic finished the rest.

  She continued to eliminate the stragglers that she came upon until she caught up to the main body. A pitched battle was going on. The defenders were stretched across a broad street, bordered by short walls surrounding a series of small estates. There were barely enough of them to form a line across the street. She glanced to either side, hoping to see archers providing support, but there were none. Outnumbered at least five to one, as soon as the line broke they would be slaughtered.

  Two blasts of her power shattered the walls on either side of the Sibt. Hoisting the debris, she began spinning it into a whirling maelstrom before sending it into the Sibt. The debris jumbled their formations as soldiers tried to protect their vital areas but, other than a few lucky strikes, few went down permanently. A large group of Sibt broke away and headed in her direction.

  A crooked smile appeared on Ravyn’s face. This is exactly what she wanted, a direct showdown to end things, one way or the other.

  The first two fell quickly to her sword. Swinging her arm around, the next received a face full of flames. Red and blistering, he fell to the ground, his screams echoing for a long time. Before she had time to react, a sword bit deep into her thigh. Pain coursed through her body as she fell to her k
nees. Looking up, she saw his face leering down at her. Covered in small patches of fuzz, he could barely even be called a man.

  She thought of her parents. Had she failed them? What will happen when she is gone? Was it worth being away from them for so long? She couldn't remember her last words with them. Had she told them that she loved them before leaving?

  She barely deflected the next blow. She grabbed his ankle, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He collapsed to the ground, twitching uncontrollably.

  Ravyn stood and began to fight again. She wouldn’t fail her parents, nor herself. Each stroke filled with the precision of a lifetime of training. She didn’t know where she was, but she would be remembered.

  A dozen bodies surrounded her, when the next blow struck, a shallow slash across her stomach. Pressing her hand over the wound, she fought on. Steel and fire flashed around her as two more Sibt fell, but there were too many.

  A hand grasped her wrist, twisting it painfully until her sword clattered to the ground. A knee to the abdomen loosened her attackers grip. A sharp blow hit the back of her head, the world flickered as she fell to her knees. When her vision cleared, she saw a pair of sandaled feet in front of her.

  She groped her way back to her feet in time for an icy lance to pierce her stomach. She looked down to see a sword embedded in her body. Almost casually, the soldier drew it out and whipped it around towards her throat.

  Chapter 15

  Caddaric opened his eyes. He stood in a small room in a tall building. A large bell hung from the ceiling behind him. It reminded him of the church bells that he heard every day, growing up in Kendra. Small arched windows opened in three walls. Rancid, hazy air drifted into the room, and he could hear a clamor of noise which reminded him of the soldiers training in the courtyard of the keep at home, except with a lot more screaming.

  Gazing out the nearest window, he saw a moderately sized city. A broad, sluggish river flowed around half of the city. A castle stood on a small peninsula extending into a bend in the river, surrounded by a thick wall. Inside its walls he could see a group of soldiers organizing for a parade. Horses formed a perfect square, their riders standing beside each. He was moving to another window to get a better look at the rest of the city when he heard a cry from below.

  “Help me!” came a high pitched voice from below. A young boy, dressed in rags, was running down the street below the window.

  He ignored the boy, who kept running down the street.

  Two men came running after the boy. They wore dark vests that exposed thick, muscular arms, with a piece of red cloth tied around their right bicep. Each had a scimitar hooked through their belts.

  He examined his own clothing and found that he was dressed quite differently. He wore a tight fitting coat with a gold emblem of a lion on the breast which did not match any emblem used by a lord in Rourke. Checking his belt he saw that he was unarmed.

  He watched as the men ran past the building and continued up the street, towards the castle in the distance.

  When they passed out of sight, he turned his attention back to the city. He didn’t recognize it, which was surprising given that his tutors had forced him to memorize the features of every moderately sized city in Rourke as well as some in the other nations.

  He looked at the sun to get his bearings. He felt that it was mid-morning, and using the position of the sun in the sky, he concluded that the castle lay at the eastern side of the city. He found himself in an affluent section of the city, adjacent to the castle. He identified a couple of other churches in the area and many small estates, surrounded by short walls. Their green, manicured lawns were at odds with the drab buildings and dirt streets covering the rest of the city. Docks lined the south side of the city, beside many large warehouses. Many buildings on the north side of the city were on fire, and people ran to and fro, either trying to put out fires, or fleeing the area. A short wall surrounded the entire city.

  An open square occupied the center of the city and seemed to be the center of attention. Men were building barricades on the eastern side while others held a group of invaders at bay. He could see many more invaders converging on the square from adjacent streets, but no reinforcements coming for the defenders.

  He paused to give the city a more detailed scan. He saw furtive movement in a bell tower above a cathedral a couple blocks away. He stood motionless by the window, watching the tower for several minutes. He occasionally saw figures moving inside, silhouetted against the light shining in the open windows. He was convinced that there were two people inside and they were watching the conflict in the square.

  Exiting the building, he quietly made his way towards the cathedral. The streets around him were empty. Most people in this section of the city had long since fled or barricaded themselves indoors.

  The cathedral was large and blocky, but covered in beautiful stained glass windows. Hurrying across the street, he entered through the large double doors. He paused in the relative darkness of the entryway as his eyes adjusted, acutely aware that he was unarmed. Despite his best efforts to keep quiet, his footsteps echoes around the room as he walked between the pews and past the podium at the far end, before disappearing through a plain door in the rear wall. He followed a narrow hallway past several doors until he came to a set of stairs leading up.

  He stopped one flight below the top. He could see a wooden door at the top of the stairs, which he assumed led to the tower where he had seen the figures. His heart began to hammer in his chest as he decided whether he should announce his presence before heading through the door.

  “Hello,” said Caddaric.

  He heard some shuffling in the room above before receiving a response. “Who’s there?”

  “I’m here to get an update,” said Caddaric.

  The door opened a crack, and he saw an eye peering out. After a moment, the door was opened and he was motioned upwards. Entering the small room, he saw that it was very similar to the one that he had started in. A large bell hung overhead, and narrow windows opened in all four directions.

  “What do you mean, you’re here for an update? We’ve been waiting for an update for over an hour.”

  Caddaric gave a helpless shrug. “I’m just doing what I’m told.”

  They studied his face for a moment before answering. “I’m Garret and that is Wacian,” said Garret, pointing to the other man who stood looking out the window towards the square with a long spyglass.

  Caddaric crowded in beside Wacian to watch the conflict. “I’m as confused as you are,” said Caddaric, “so give me an update of what has happened from the beginning.”

  Garret gave him a strange look, but obliged. “The attack began about an hour ago. We had no warning that the Sibt were in the area. They rushed the walls and were over before a defense could be organized. They started burning buildings on the north side of town, mostly people’s homes. People started flooding into the area to help put out the fires when they were ambushed and cut down in cold blood. Since then, the Sibt have been making their way towards Joran’s square. It provides the most direct access to the rest of the city. Our men are setting up barricades in the square to try and hold them off, but it doesn’t look good.”

  “Why? What’s happening?” asked Caddaric.

  “Captain Adolphus was killed in the initial attack on the square,” said Garret. “Adolphus liked to have all the power for himself, so there are no qualified lieutenants to take over command. The Sibt are mostly armed with swords, and we have a decent force of archers that are being wasted. They’re unprotected on the ground and their shots are being obstructed by our own soldiers.”

  “Reinforcements?” asked Caddaric, watching a burning building collapse.

  “There’s a company of cavalry behind the castle walls,” smirked Garret, “but King Earh won’t send them out to get involved in any real fighting. He’ll keep waiting for the opportunity to make a grand entrance and crush his enemies with a single charge.”

 
; “It works in the stories,” said Caddaric, with a laugh. “If we were going to setup a proper defense, where would you recommend putting it?”

  “There,” said Garret, pointing to a street that ran directly from the square to the castle. “The intersection of King Street and Claire. A small force can block off the intersecting streets, while we make our stand. There are plenty of buildings with many second story windows to station our archers. It won’t be pretty, but when you’re outnumbered all that matters is survival.”

  “I couldn’t have said it any better myself,” said Caddaric. “I’m heading to the square to pull our men back. Are you able to signal the King when it’s time for him to make his charge?”

  “Aye,” said Garret, motioning towards a book and many flags, each with a different pattern, resting on the floor.

  “Don’t hesitate when you see an opportunity.”

  Caddaric clasped hands with Garret, and patted Wacian on the back before leaving the cathedral. The winds shifted and he was struck by a putrid smell from up ahead. He placed his arm in front of his nose to block out some of the smell, but still nearly had to stop to retch. The sounds and smells grew as he neared the square until they were overwhelming.

  Years of training had taught him how to keep his composure during adverse situations. He stopped and took several slow breaths through his mouth while clenching both his hands as he visibly calmed himself, and forced himself to ignore the smells.

  Finally, the square took shape ahead of him. Roughly fifty archers hid behind upturned carts, blocking the entrance to the square. Occasionally one of them would take a shot into the square, but they mostly just stood there watching in horror. Walking up behind them, he got his first good look at the square from between two of the carts. Four simple fountains stood at the corners of the square, bodies polluting their waters.

  A rolling battle was taking place throughout the square. There were no battle lines. There were no organized squads fighting together as units. It was many individuals, fighting alone, on both sides. Caddaric shook his head. This was no way to fight a war even if they had the advantage, but especially not when they were significantly outnumbered.