The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall

by Jason McWhirter

  Ayden drew his two short swords and reached out with the Way, sucking in large amounts of energy form the charging men, quickly filtering it and making it clean for Thalon and Lyra to use. Tulk stood next to him, his legs spread wide. He was grunting like a wild animal and soon the guards would find out just how dangerous he was.

  Ayden felt Thalon draw more energy from him and just moments after Lyra’s lightning halted the charge, a large cone of burning fire shot forward from his hands, killing any guards who had survived Lyra’s magic.

  There were six men left when Tulk charged. Ayden ran behind him knowing that he needed to stay out of his way. The little Channeler could not keep up with the Merger. Tulk drew large amounts of aura energy into his legs and arms and shot forward like a loaded spring. The remaining guards didn’t know what hit them. His huge two handed sword flashed left and right, his body a blur of death.

  But as Tulk was just finishing off the remaining guards, a new threat was floating slowly and silently above them. The Aura Mage glided toward them, his body straight and erect. He grasped a glowing ball of fire in his right hand. Thalon and Lyra saw him at the same time. They had only enough time to share a quick look before the ball of fire was arcing towards them. They both dove to either side, knowing that that was all they could do.

  Thalon was lucky. He was near the edge of the dock and when the ball landed, the massive explosion sent a shock wave in all directions. But by that time he had hit the surface of the water, dropping below the protective cover of the sea as flames surged above him.

  Lyra was not so lucky. She landed on the wood planks and frantically rolled toward the stacked barrels nearby. But the shock wave picked her up and hurled her into the barrels. She felt the skin on her back singeing and the force of the impact stunned her. Slowly she regained her senses, trying desperately to shake the dizziness from her head knowing that the mage was still there. The question was did he have a Channeler or a mage stone? If so, then he would have more energy to use and they would be in serious trouble. But if not, they still might survive the night.

  Tulk had cleaved the last man’s face in two, withdrawing his deadly blade so quickly that he was already stepping toward their boat when his body hit the floor.

  “Not so fast.” The voice came directly in front of them as the Aura Mage dropped from above to stand on the dock ten paces away. Ayden was five paces behind Tulk and they both froze, their swords held at their sides.

  The man before them was wearing silver armor embossed with House Kaleck’s symbol, a ship silhouetted by a shining sun. Ayden new that Lyra and Thalon had killed the king and his son. So who was this man? The royal families were often large so he could be anyone; maybe a cousin or a distant relative. But, by the looks of the powerful fireball he had just witnessed, this man was most definitely a skilled mage and probably had close ties to the ex-royal family. His hair was short and he wore a trimmed pointy beard on his chin that matched the color of his dark eyes.

  Ayden could sense that Tulk was about to charge. The mage seemed to sense it as well. “Don’t, Merger,” he said, his voice threatening and supported by lightning arcing across his right hand. “I would like nothing better than to kill you. But I think we will want to question you. And know that we have men that are very skilled at getting information.”

  Lyra was in agony, flashes of stabbing pain piercing her back, but she had finally regained control of her senses. Yet despite the severity of her burns she could still walk. Crouching behind the tumbled kegs she looked upon the scene. Thalon was nowhere to be seen and Tulk and Ayden were about twenty paces before her seemingly conversing with the mage. She could see lightning dancing around his hand. He must have a mage stone as there was no Channeler about, except for Ayden, who would never allow the mage to pull energy from him.

  Lyra looked for her bow and saw it tangled amongst some barrels. She could see that the bow string was now charred and had become unstrung. Quietly, she reached into a pouch on her belt and removed her backup string. Crouching, she put the edge of the bow against her foot and used her weight to bend it, hooking the loop of the string to the notch on the bow. It was a light bow, made for short distances, so she had no problem attaching the string without standing. She searched for an arrow in her quiver and only found two that had not been damaged by the flames. She nocked one and looked between the cracks of the barrels again.

  The mage raised his right hand before him, more lightning arcing across his fingers. She could see Tulk twitch, as if he were losing the mental battle that was keeping him from attacking the mage.

  “Don’t do it,” Lyra whispered to herself as she drew back on the bow. She knew that the mage would kill them both if Tulk moved. She also knew that she had a tough shot. The man wore armor and her bow was not powerful enough to pierce it. That meant she had to hit him in the face or perhaps an arm or leg. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it between her lips, and silently opening her fingers to free the arrow. The short bolt shot forward and just when she was sure it would hit his throat, the man stepped back, raising his arm higher as if he were about to release the spell. The arrow hit him in the chin, the impact of metal on bone jerking his head to the side and opening a deep gash from his chin to his cheekbone. Stumbling, the mage regained his footing and turned to face the new threat, hoping to renew the spell that he had momentarily lost. But all he saw was a blurred shadow before everything went black. Tulk stepped away from the body as the mage’s head thudded to the wood planks.

  Lyra stumbled from behind the barrels, her bow held low at her side. Ayden assumed the arrow must have come from her. He rushed to her side and held her up as she was about to collapse. “I cannot create a spell,” she stammered. “I need to go with you.”

  Ayden and Tulk quickly helped her into the boat. There was no sign of Thalon. The dock was nearly two paces above the water, so even if Thalon had survived the explosion there was no way he could have climbed back onto the dock from his position. He would have had to find another spot from which to pull himself out of the water. But they couldn’t wait any longer. More guards would soon arrive. They had to hope that Thalon had escaped and would meet them at their rendezvous just up the shoreline. So, without looking back, Tulk grasped the oars with his powerful arms and quickly heaved the boat out into the water. Within moments they were moving rapidly away from the dock and into the protection of darkness.

  ***

  It had taken Brant only three months until he could hit a tree more than five times while keeping the metal ball at waist height as he held the end of the pole. He had worked at it at every possible moment. Early each morning he would get up and run, work the ball, and move through the sword positions. There were several occasions when he accompanied Kulvar and the Dygon Guard on Kul-brite transportation missions, and even then, when he wasn’t leading the wagons, attending to the horses, or helping prepare the meals, he was working with the steel ball. Sheer determination had paid off, and one evening, while camping along the side of the road returning from Tanwen, he had done it. He had struck a tree seven times with his right hand and five times with his left.

  His typically stoic Dygon Guard companions, most of whom had taken a sincere interest in his progress, clapped and cheered at his success. A few were sitting by the fire, resting from the long ride. But most were up sparring with swords. The Dygon Guard trained constantly, whether on a mission or not. It was something that had been ingrained into their psyche since they had begun training at the Warden Academy, to be at the peak of their physical fitness and to always have a sword ready to grasp in their hand. Kulvar made sure that the keen edge of their training was never dulled.

  Kulvar clapped him on the back, smiling from ear to ear. “Well done, Brant. I would have thought it would take you longer, but I should have known better. A man with a will can move mountains.”

  Brant smiled with relief and satisfaction as he rubbed his sore forearms. “Will you teach me now?”

  “I wi
ll. But not tonight. It will be dark soon and we should arrive at Cythera tomorrow. Let us begin then.”

  “I would like that. Thank you.”

  Kulvar was still smiling. “Come. Let’s eat.” They made their way to a fire surrounded by smiling Dygon Guards who congratulated him with pats on the back and kind words. The guards were tough men, quiet men, not typically ones to engage in casual banter, thus difficult to get to know. But Brant was somewhat comfortable with that, as he too was not prone to idle conversation. But he had slowly woven his way into the fabric of the close knit warriors. Kulvar had hired him as a driver and overall camp helper. The king had agreed, knowing that having a man who had reached the title of Ull Therm as a driver for their Kul-brite carts would not only provide more protection but would free up a Dygon Guard to fight if the need ever arose. It was a win win situation for everyone and Brant was more than willing to work for the king in that regard. He was not one of them, he knew that, but it was clear that they at least accepted him…at least most did. There was one young warrior who seemed distant, and there were numerous times when Brant caught him staring at him as if he were some sort of pariah. His name was Kay’il and he rarely spoke. But his looks and stares spoke volumes. It was obvious that he was not happy with Brant’s presence.

  Brant and Kulvar sat beside the fire and he couldn’t help but notice Kay’il’s cold stares. They were handed a bowl of rabbit stew and a thick slice of hard bread. Brant ate it quickly, trying all the while to not think about the glares coming from Kay’il.

  Everyone was hungry and it didn’t take long before they had consumed their meals. “I’m going to check on the horses,” Kulvar announced as he stood up from the fire. It was now dark and Brant watched him blend into the darkness, heading for the small copse of trees where the horses were tied.

  Kay’il ripped off a piece of dried bread, eating it slowly as he looked directly at Brant. “Why are you here?” he asked. They had never spoken before, and based on his behavior Brant figured there would be some sort of confrontation at some point. It looked as if tonight would be the night.

  “What do you mean?” Brant responded, knowing full well what he meant.

  He chewed slowly on his bread. “You should not be here. You do not have noble blood.”

  So that was it. Kay’il, like many nobles, saw commoners as beneath them. The other guards around the fire said nothing, curiously watching to see how the encounter played out. The Dygon Guard didn’t make it a habit to defend one another, rather allowing, and expecting, each man to take care of their own personal issues. “I’m sorry you feel that way. You are right, I am no noble. I was in need, and Kulvar helped me. I will find my path soon, so there is no need to worry. I will not be here long.”

  “Do you know why he helped you?”

  This time Kade spoke. “Kay’il,…that is enough.”

  There was no formal ranking within the Dygon Guard, but everyone knew the unofficial one. Kulvar was their leader, there was no doubt of that, and Kade was second in command, not just because of his superior skill, but because of his extensive experience as a Dygon Guard. Next to Kulvar, he was the most senior.

  But Kay’il did not stop. “You remind him of his son. You should leave. I think your presence is bringing up painful memories.”

  Brant was caught off guard. He didn’t know that Kulvar had a son. But now that he thought about it they did look similar. Both of them had that strong dominant chin, and dark hair, although Kulvar’s was cut close to his scalp, and despite the difference in their eye color, both had piercing cold eyes. “I did not know he had a son. He has never spoken of it.”

  “That is because he is dead. He died when he was about your age, along with his mother.”

  “How?”

  “The sickness swept through their town while he was away. They were dead by the time he returned.” Again Kade interjected, “Now, that is enough talk of this. It is true, you do look like his son. But,” Kade said, turning to Kay’il, “it is not our place to question Master Rand. He has his own reasons for the choices he makes, and whether you agree with them or not, Kay’il, is inconsequential. His choice in taking Brant in and helping him has done nothing but strengthen us in the process.”

  “I’m sorry, Kade, but I do not agree. He risked our lives to rescue him. And now, with the death of Tangar, he may have brought further danger upon us. Tangar’s father is sure to want revenge. I am not so sure that Master Rand’s decision was the best one.”

  “You may be right. But by all accounts Brant is strong, an adept warrior, a man of honor, and despite his lack of noble blood, he was given these gifts by Argon for a reason. Perhaps you are not looking at the big picture as is Master Rand. Master Rand has never let us down before. He obviously believes that rescuing Brant was worth the risks, and so far, knowing Brant’s character, I agree. Now, enough of this talk.”

  Kay’il looked at Kade but said nothing, his eyes pivoting to Brant’s as he tore off another piece of bread. Brant was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice Kay’il’s malevolent glance. His mind drifted to Kulvar and he wondered if Kay’il was correct in his assessment.

  ***

  It had taken two weeks of constant bombardment to finally break through the city gate. They had pounded the walls with firebombs, launching hundreds of tynells, their explosive projectiles, over the walls to the buildings beyond. Keltius, after defeating what was left of the Kaelian navy, assaulted the city from the water’s edge. Large catapults had been erected on the foredecks of his ships and they slung large clay firebombs at the city walls. The Kaelians bravely fought to defend their city, but in the end they could not hold out against the constant barrage of shelling. They had no defense against the flaming projectiles which destroyed whole sections of walls, and flattened the buildings and homes within the city. Raging fires spread rapidly, completing the devastation.

  The main gate, now a wreckage of its former self, was blackened and bent, the steel reinforcements twisted amongst the thick timbers. The Kaelians had fought valiantly to protect the gate. But, eventually, the Saricons were able to hit the gate directly with a huge firebomb. The already weakened and charred wood sundered on impact, the massive explosion pushing the gate inward. The Kaelians sent a rain of arrows, spears, and stones onto the Saricons, who rushed forward with a huge battering ram to knock aside what was left of the damaged gate. Saricon warriors surrounded the men holding the ram, holding their shields aloft to protect them, but many of the attackers still perished under the onslaught. But when one fell, another took his place, until finally they were able to use the ram to smash through what was left of the gate.

  Tongra Taruk stood eagerly behind his men as they poured through the gate in a river of steel and rage. He held his giant battle axe with one hand and felt the adrenaline rush through his body. Kahn Taruk was weary of the siege…he was eager to bloody his axe.

  He charged through the gate with his men and quickly surveyed the scene. It was what he had expected. The defenders along the walls had joined forces with their men on the ground, forming a defensive wall of steel beyond the gate. Within their defensive wall was utter chaos. Panicked civilians screamed and Kaelian soldiers shouted orders as fires continued to rage through the ruins of homes and buildings. Two weeks of bombardment had left the city in shambles.

  Kahn Taruk had seen if before. There would be one last push to destroy the invaders. But they would lose, and they would die. Hundreds of civilians, not willing to convert, would be killed as well. But others, about a third, would convert and pledge their loyalty to the mighty Heln. Then they would rebuild the city in Heln’s name. But Kahn Taruk was not thinking of the future; his muscular chest heaved as he breathed in deeply, his heart pounding with anticipation. All he wanted right now was to fight.

  Hefting his battle axe he moved forward, his men flanking him with swords, axes, and shields held high. Arrows and spears came at them. Saricon shields came up in unison, forming a defensive wall
as the projectiles slammed into them. With practiced precision they quickly dropped their shields to allow the men behind them to hurl their heavy javelins. The Kaelians used their shields as well, lifting them in defense, but they were much less effective. The heavy spears of the Saricons, thrown with incredible strength, found their targets. And when they struck the Kaelians’ shields, they struck with such force that scores of the Kaelians were knocked to the ground.

  “Charge!” Tongra Taruk yelled in Drak.

  The two groups came together in a thundering clash of steel upon steel. Kahn Taruk swung his huge axe down, connecting solidly on a Kaelian shield. The power of the strike contorted the shield, cleaving a fold down the middle. The man behind the shield howled, his arm broken by the force of the blow. Kahn then kicked out with his right foot, knocking the man backward into the throng of warriors behind him, then followed the kick with a sideways arc of his axe, which struck another defender who was battling a Saricon warrior, cleaving his body nearly in half. He fell to the ground, his body unnaturally contorted. Despite the carnage, the Kaelian defenders continued to surge forward, spears and swords coming at the Saricons from all angles.

  Kahn Taruk felt his Fury rise to the surface and he howled like a wild animal, the power of it surging into his limbs. Red fire flared from his eyes and he suddenly felt invincible. It was a strange phenomenon, but when he was possessed by the Fury, he saw everything in hues of reds and orange. And those around him appeared to be moving in slow motion as his own body, enhanced by energy, moved with incredible speed and power.

  His men, sensing the power of his Fury, angled away from him, their axes and swords directed at the enemies on his flanks, enabling him to surge forward, his body and axe a blur of motion. They needed to stay out of his way and give him room to kill. This was not the first time they had experienced their Tongra’s Fury, and they knew what to do. Nothing could touch Kahn Taruk. He perceived every attack before it could occur, his body and axe spinning, blocking, and attacking almost simultaneously. Blood sprayed as his silver axe cut its way through the brave Kaelian warriors as his own soldiers frantically did their best to help him cut their way through the defensive line. And the Saricon assault was more than effective. The defenders were tossed aside like children, their bodies cut and bleeding.