Schism: The Battle for Darracia (Book 1)

by Cash, Michael Phillip

  The king agreed darkly. “So all we have is Svart and Vekin. It doesn’t look good, Zayden. I will need a Fireblade.”

  One of the men bowed, holding his weapon up as an offering. “Take mine, sire.”

  Another then another knelt and said the same.

  Drakko looked at each of them and took the first soldier’s sword. “You will be rewarded.”

  “It is an honor to serve,” the grizzled soldier responded.

  “The best defense is an offense. I think, Zayden, that we should cut the Hydra’s head off at the top,” the king said as they set off for the throne room.

  Chapter 23

  Tulani looked blankly at her grandmother. “Is this all there is?”

  “No, no, girl. This is just the beginning. Heard what he said, did you? He means to make you the queen. Sit there like a fool, will you?”

  “But you said I should not go with him!”

  “That I did. Certain death it would be. He is running like a keewalla without a head. Do you think I did not have a plan?”

  “What plan?” Tulani demanded impatiently.

  Bobbien knelt and placed her forehead to the floor. She turned her wizened face to her granddaughter. “Time is wasting, child. Kneel and appeal to the Element.”

  “The Element said the knowledge is within us.”

  “Then pray for enlightenment!”

  Tulani got down, pressing her knees to the stone, her forehead on the floor in silent appeal. “Oh, Great Sradda,” she implored, “I don’t even know what I’m praying for. I just want to keep V’sair safe.”

  The room turned red, and the orb appeared. “You are calling for help, perhaps?” it asked playfully. Without waiting for a response, it laughed and said, “I am Ozre, Element of the earth. In what way can the land help you? Think, Tulani.” It rumbled, and the room fairly shook.

  What can Ozre do? she wondered. She had learned it refused to force its will on all kind, but what other way could she harness the power to aide V’sair? Think, she told herself. Think!

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said.

  “I can’t think for you, Tulani! Use your brain and think. I am Ozre. I am Ozre, Element of the land. I am the creator of the stars and planets. Through me you can use the land to your advantage. Think, girl! I never had to spell it out for your grandmother,” Ozre admonished.

  “The belly of the beast!” Tulani looked up, taking in the polished walls of the interior of the volcano, her eyes shining. “Can you force an eruption?”

  “To what purpose?”

  “If Aqin erupts, the Quyroos will run down the sides of the volcano to the safety of the Plain of Dawid. Once they are there, I can speak to them—tell them of Staf Nuen—and perhaps they will storm the castle.”

  Bobbien got up slowly. “Only a high priestess can move the Quyroos. I have lost my status.”

  “But I have not,” Tulani said.

  The room flashed with lightning, and a roar rolled up the hollow inside of the volcano, Ozre making good on its end of the job.

  Chapter 24

  V’sair hugged himself against the muscled neck of Hother, feeling safe. The cold night winds bit through his tunic, making him shiver uncontrollably. He pressed his knees into his stallius’s heaving sides, urging the beast to go faster than he had ever demanded. Sweat lathered her neck, and he pressed a reassuring hand against her throat, begging the Elements to keep her safe.

  As he burst through the treetops, he saw several guards but none that looked familiar. He knew he was fast becoming a noticeable target.

  In the distance V’sair saw the dual suns rising to start a new day. The rays blinded him, hurting his eyes. He felt them water and wondered whether they were tears from the extreme light or tears for his family. As his vision cleared, he counted ten guards on stalliuses watching the skies for intruders. They were a ragtag bunch, not his father’s Petrion soldiers.

  One of them pointed at him, and he pulled Hother with all his might through the cluster of buildings toward the great sea. “Faster, Hoth. Faster, girl,” he urged, watching their swords drawn and light up with battle readiness.

  They chased him through the openings between the buildings; they rode the clouds, their reflections dancing on the glass walls. He darted between two high-rises, their bulk shielding him from their view, and he knew he had to act now. After swooping under an awning, he eased backward, out of sight, and waited. As he pulled his Fireblade from his belt, he heard the reassuring hum and closed his eyes, briefly wondering why he ever wanted this so badly.

  Two guards barreled through, shouting noisily. As they passed, V’sair extended his arm as far as it could go, watching in amazement as the long reach of his blade sliced off the head of the first soldier and taking the arm of the second one as they raced by. It had been a clean swipe, yet the impact almost unseated him. He righted himself as he heard the screams of the second soldier as he fell to the planet, his voice becoming fainter the farther he went.

  V’sair pushed Hother to the fourth floor as he watched the reflection of the glass windows and spotted another group approach. Reaching into the pouch that Tulani had hung on Hother, he pulled out two zandy grenades and tried to remember how to activate them. He had just one shot and knew he had to be higher, else it would fall to explode harmlessly in the Desa.

  “Come on,” he whispered to Hother, who strained to slowly move upward. He watched them skirt around the area as he eased the giant stallius as close to the wall of the building as he could. He knew they stood out like a beacon, he and his white beast. The suns moved over the land, chasing the shadows of darkness. Breathless, he waited until they were almost directly beneath him. With his teeth he pulled at a small clip, counted to five—lest they explode too late—and watched as the grenade descended. The blast’s reverberation almost threw him off Hother. His fingernails ripped as he held on to the bridle, while the shock waves rocked him in midair. His shoulder connected with the wall of the building, and for a moment, stars danced before his eyes, the wind knocked out of him. His field of vision narrowed for a second, and he took a huge breath to try to completely return to his senses. His arm ached from controlling his stallius, and his knees shook from the stress.

  Man and beast below him flew apart, and the detail of guards were killed in seconds. Hands and legs pounded against the surfaces of the buildings, splashing bodily fluids everywhere. V’sair never would look at the skyscape again without thinking of the horror of this moment.

  He regained control of Hother in time to see the last man coming at him, sword drawn, his face in a furious snarl. V’sair pulled out his Fireblade and, ready for battle, inched sideways to move into the open. The two men circled each other, the wings of their stalliuses creating eddies of wind that ruffled V’sair’s hair.

  “You killed my men,” the commander shouted hatefully.

  “They’re supposed to be my father’s men!” V’sair called back as he shifted Hother over the great Hixom Sea. He could feel the mists of the water reaching upwards cooling them.

  “I will kill you and bring your head to Staf Nuen.”

  “You can try.” V’sair laughed, baiting him into recklessness. It worked, and the commander rushed in. V’sair caught him in the side, ripping a neat hole. The other man pulled up, the hooves of his stallius clipping V’sair’s hand. The prince’s knuckles erupted as if they were on fire, and his hand went completely numb. The precious Fireblade slipped from his hand, falling towards the churning water. Hother instinctively dove; V’sair saw the other warrior following him for the kill. Clamping his legs against her sides, he rolled, pulling his stallius with him, hoping Hother wouldn’t get disoriented and plummet to the ocean below them. Salty spray from the sea coated his face, and he knew if he didn’t act quickly, he’d be swimming within seconds. He had to catch his Fireblade before it sank into the hungry waves. Reaching out, he stretched his fingers, and the hilt of his sword landed in his hand. He pushed Hother to turn to the left a
nd came out of his barrel roll, slashing the belly of his opponent’s stallius and watching blood pour from the widening slit. The stallius screamed in agony, its hooves lashing out in the throes of death. Man and beast turned headfirst to crash into the churning sea below them.

  V’sair spun as Hother’s hooves glanced off the waves, splashing him with water as she gathered momentum to head toward the rising suns and his destiny.

  Chapter 25

  Both entrances to the castle were destroyed, the gates hanging open and a detail of armed soldiers making it impossible to enter. V’sair scanned the fortress and remembered a service entrance he and his brother often had used to escape the confines of the castle.

  He veered off, rethinking his strategy, hovering in the shadow of a hulking ship. His heart beat furiously in his chest, and he felt the heat of Rast and Nost burn through the layers of his clothes.

  Hother whickered, and he shushed her, her great wings moving quietly as he backed off to find another way in.

  As the sky lightened, he heard the loud screeches of herns before he saw them. A giant cross, with hundreds of leathery winged herns, flew directly toward him. His heart beat wildly as their razor-sharp beaks became visible, their cries rending the stillness of the morning. He had nowhere to hide; they would rip him to shreds. As the flap of their wings grew closer, V’sair circled in his spot, not knowing where to go. Two soldiers spotted him. He heard one of them shout and watched as they galloped toward him, their Fireblades blazing red in the morning light. To his back was the ship and a small group of guards; to his front were the herns; to his left, the soldiers racing toward him. Holding his breath, V’sair calmed himself. He kicked Hother gently into the oncoming flock of herns, their sharp beaks grazing him, the leathery wings feeling papery against his face. He screeched loudly, imitating their sound, relaxing when he realized that as long as he stayed calm, they ignored him. Their fetid smell, however, made him gag. Seconds later he heard the screams of the men as the birds raced in formation, their wild movements causing a frenzied attack. He watched in horror as the herns poked the men’s eyes, stabbed and sawed, until each soldier had fallen from his stallius to the planet below.

  An explosion startled V’sair. The flock dissipated, and he saw a great plume of smoke erupt from Aqin, leaving him perplexed as to what Ozre could be doing. He watched the sky darken over the Plain of Dawid. Then he heard the exclamations of more guards and a captain ordering them to find out what was going on below. Near the rear of the last donjon, a group hovered before the small entry to the kitchens of the palace. Several of the guards were shouting, and the group soon split up, leaving two men to watch the exit. It seemed it never got easy, V’sair thought as he swallowed hard. He counted patiently, watching the others become tiny dots on the horizon, then pulled out his Fireblade and closed his eyes. “Great Sradda, I commend myself to thee,” he whispered.

  Putting the blade straight before him, he raced forward, the wind whistling in his ears as he swung the Fireblade in a swirling arc, feeling it bite deeply into the first man and just as quickly attacking the other.

  One man’s thighs gripped his stallius as his upper torso free-falled to the planet. The other held his belly together with his hands, shock on his face as he tried to stuff his intestines back into the growing cavity, the light fading from his eyes. V’sair turned, his stomach roiling. He looked at his bloodied hands and wondered why the Fireblade consumed him so. He decided he did not like this part, but he knew he had no choice. There was no glory in war, no romance in the blade. If he survived this, he couldn’t wait to tell Emmicus his feelings had changed. He understood that the Fireblade existed to protect, not to oppress. His blade turned bluer than his eyes.

  He rode into the deserted galleys, sickened by the bodies strewn across the floor. Food burned on the stoves, bread black and smoking in the many ovens. Quyroos had been cut down where they worked, hacked without mercy. He walked around spilled fruit that was mashed with the blood of the victims. It was a scene indelibly printed on V’sair’s young brain; he doubted he’d ever be the same.

  Stealthily he dismounted and tied up Hother in the deserted kitchen, as he spied the stiffening bodies of his servants. He bent and touched one of their necks, looking in hope for a pulse, but sadly confirmed the Quyroo was dead. As he took out his Fireblade, he heard the reassuring hum as it jumped to life. His arm tingled with the energy of the sword, and it enveloped him. Touching the blade to his forehead, he prayed for a second then opened the doors that led to the palace.

  Chapter 26

  The king, Zayden, and Hilde along with their guards ran through the corridors toward the throne room. Drakko cut down anyone who came into his path, his thoughts filled with worry for Reminda and V’sair. His head held high, he walked into the great room, which hushed as he entered.

  Pacuto moved forward, raising his sword, but was stayed by Staf.

  “You escaped my men?” Staf stood by the golden chair, his tip grazing Reminda’s chin. Drakko’s eyes found his wife and rested for a moment. Zayden stood to the left of him with Hilde behind him, hidden by his bulk.

  Reminda gasped when she saw her husband, her relief warring with worry.

  “As you see.” Drakko held out his hands in a sarcastic gesture. Pacuto hissed with anger, and Staf held out his hand. “If you so desire my kingdom, come and take it from me, coward.”

  Beatha came forward, her hand on Staf’s arm. “What are you waiting for? Kill him!”

  Staf stepped down unhurriedly, his gaze never leaving his brother.

  Spectators spread out, encircling the combatants. As the two brothers rosetheir swords, the battle began.

  Chapter 27

  Tulani raced out of the volcano, her feet barely touching the ground. She heard Bobbien behind her, and as they neared the entrance, screams from the villages filled the air.

  Her face drenched with sweat, she came outside to the sight of an inferno. Fire and black smoke belched from the crater of Aqin; streams of red lava slowly made their way down the wrinkled face of the volcano.

  A sea of panicked Quyroos milled about in the great Plain of Dawid at the base of Aqin. How can I get anything done with this rabble? Tulani wondered forlornly, as she looked at the swirling mass of crazed Quyroos fleeing the eruption. She raised her arms to the heavens, appealing for sanity to return. She prayed loudly so her voice could reach Ozre. If she could only harness a force of Quyroos to storm the castle, she thought, watching the way they were retreating from the volcano, perhaps they would overcome Staf and his minions. A blanket of black clouds covered the valley. The Quyroos watched the spectacle of nature as they screamed for mercy. Most thought this was the hour of their death; Aqin finally had decided to end their miserable existence.

  All sound was muffled as the air took on an electric quality. Tulani’s skin prickled with sensitivity. All eyes turned to the angry, spitting volcano. There was nowhere to run, and they knew they were doomed. A hush fell over the Plain of Dawid. She saw Tree People watching from the Desa as they hung from their perches in the forest. Tulani’s voice rang out cutting through the tension of the room. She raised her hands to the heavens in supplication; she cried out for mercy. She stood on a small ledge, a halo of light surrounding her. Her red braids flared around her slim body as though they were a cloak. She saw the orb spinning before her hands, its mass growing until it spread over the entire Plain of Dawid, enveloping the population in a massive net of sparkling stars.

  The Quyroos stood frozen, their faces paralyzed in a combination of fear mixed with wonder. The fire suddenly died; the lava turned to gray ash; and the volcano went silent. A trail of black smoke snaked across the clearing sky as the two suns burned away the black clouds. The volcano grew dark, as if an engine had been switched off, and all eyes turned to the young girl who appeared to control both the volcano and the spinning orb. She held out her palms, and the orb retracted into a small ball and came to rest in the cup of her hands. It grew smalle
r and smaller until it disappeared. One by one, Quyroos dropped to their knees and bowed to the new high priestess.

  Tulani looked at the mass of people on their knees, their faces pressed to the red dirt as they waited for her to speak.

  “Good Quyroos…” Her voice carried to the farthest fields, and Bobbien smiled with pride. Tulani turned to her grandmother and asked, “What should I do?”

  Bobbien bent her head with respect. “Do what you must, child.”

  “I must save V’sair.”

  “Then ask for help.”

  Tulani turned to the people, who waited breathlessly for her to speak. “I am Tulani. I am Tulani!” she repeated. “I am Tulani, your high priestess, and I will lead you to freedom!”

  A great cheer erupted, and four large male Quyroos climbed up the cliff and lifted her high over their heads to carry her into the frenzied crowd.

  Chapter 28

  V’sair kept his back to the wall, his Fireblade close to his chest as he walked the corridors of the palace. Signs of the struggle were everywhere. Broken glass, bodies—results of the coup—littered each hallway. He turned a corner to find two guards patrolling, and raising his blade, he shouted as he moved in for the kill.

  “Nooooo!” The younger soldier feinted left, while the older one deftly knocked V’sair’s sword away, turning a deathblow into a minor gash.

  “Your Highness…Prince V’sair,” the Darracian panted as V’sair went after him with deadly force. “We are friends…” He barely could catch his breath.

  “We are with Swart’s forces,” the older guard shouted from floor, where he nursed the nick in his side. “Stop! We are here to help!”