Knight Fire (The Champion Chronicles Book 4)

by Brad Clark

  A shout from behind caught his attention and Marik moved to get a quick glance. The Centurions who had raced through the clearing had returned to drive an opening through the goblins. Their shortswords flashed quick and deadly. Bodies of the creatures piled up around them, and they moved forward to help relieve the pressure of the attack on Marik and his men.

  Side-by-side, Taran Centurions and Karmon soldiers, some of them former Karmon Knights, some of them just men who picked up a sword, turned the tide. What could have been a disastrous fight for the Karmons turned into a slaughter in their favor. With the added help from the Taran Centurion’s quick and deadly swords, the fight was soon over. But the killing didn’t stop.

  Even though it was clear that the goblins lost the battle, they did not ask for mercy. Even if they could have communicated such a desire, they would not have. They were born and bred to fight to the death, and to the death they did. It was a struggle as well, as the goblins did not seem to lack energy. They fought just as hard at the end of the fight as they did at the beginning. The Tarans and Karmons had become slow and worn out by the time the last of the goblins fell.

  Marik stood over the last one, a Taran Centurion standing next to him. His chest heaved with exertion. “Thank you,” Marik said.

  The Taran nodded his head. “My thanks to you. You could easily have cut us down as we ran into the clearing.”

  “I am Marik Brownbow.”

  A slight smile came to the Taran’s face. “Not Sir Marik?”

  A surprised look crossed Marik’s face. “There are no more Karmon Knights. There is no more Karmon.”

  The man glanced around. The Tarans stood in a small group away from the Karmons. There was clearly an uncomfortableness between them. He nodded towards the group of Karmons. “It seems to me they are still around. Your swordplay is clearly as good as your reputation.”

  “You seem to know of me,” Marik said warily. “But I know nothing of you.”

  The Taran smiled. “The reputation of Karmon Knights is known throughout the empire. And the names of certain knights as well. I am Julius, and I am, or was, a commander in the Taran army. These eleven men with me are what is left of a five hundred man brigade.”

  “You were in the army that attacked us.”

  The smile fell off Julius’ face. “I am a soldier. I go where my generals tell me to go. You should understand that.”

  Marik reluctantly nodded his head. There would be no vengeance for what the Tarans did. They were way past that now. He had seen on that first night how the goblins were indiscriminate in their killing. They did not care whether it was Taran or Karmon flesh they ripped apart. They seemed to only care that it was human.

  “You’ve been in the forest for the past few weeks?” Marik asked.

  His tone broke the ice that hung uncomfortably among the soldiers. Everyone knew who the real enemy was now, but the soldiers needed their commanders to lead the way. At least among the two dozen men who stood in the clearing, the war between Taran and Karmon was over. Together, the others soldiers and centurions started to walk among the goblins to finish off those that were still moving.

  “I commanded an infantry battalion that was in the first attack. I lost some men in that attack, but I would have lost more if not for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “There were two of your soldiers that fought as if they were controlled by the gods themselves. They moved so quickly and so deadly.”

  A sadness fell over Marik. Not because of the memory of his two friends, but because he hadn’t thought of them in some time. He could not forget why he was fighting and why he needed to stay alive. “Conner and Glaerion,” Marik said softly.

  “As we were retreating, they continued to press into my men, cutting them down without mercy.”

  “They were defending their kingdom.”

  “Yes, but you came and stopped them, allowed my men to retreat away from the battle.” Then he paused as if he were trying to control his emotions. “Little good it did. When the creatures came, they came right for my men. We thought they were called by your people, but as the fires of the city caused your people to try and escape out of the city, they attacked your people as well. The creatures seemed to concentrate on your people more than the Taran army, so it gave us a chance to try and escape. We tried, but in the end, most of the army was slaughtered. I pulled together about twenty men and made for the mountains. We hit a snow storm and more of the creatures, so we turned back and hid in the mountains, figuring to wait out the winter and try again in the spring.”

  “Snows can come early to the mountains,” Marik said. “If you get right along the coast, you should be able to make it back to Taran.”

  “Too many of these, these…”

  “Goblins. We call them goblins.”

  Julius nodded. “Apt name. Too many of these goblins were between us and the Empire. There’s a large army of them just sitting right along the coast. Maybe they’re waiting for spring as well. They didn’t seem to do too well up in the mountains. We found many frozen solid. Made it easy to kill them.”

  “Why didn’t you stay up in the mountains? If they’re not up there, it should be safe.”

  “We weren’t the only ones upon the mountains. We came upon a castle. A well-defendable castle, I might add. We tried to get them to let us in, but they refused. They even attacked us. That’s when our twenty became eleven. I didn’t like the prospects of a cold winter in the mountains, so we came south.”

  “We tried to stay away from the goblins as much as we could, but this last pack seemed to be out hunting.”

  “Small groups have been scouring the forests for the past week. I think they are looking for us. We’ve killed many hundreds, but there are thousands more. We are trying to keep them away from our camp.”

  “You have a camp?”

  Marik allowed himself to smile. “Refugees from the city. Makeshift houses to keep the rain off our heads. Enough food for a while. There’s still enough deer and other game in the forest to feed us. We should be able to make it through winter.”

  Marik glanced at his men, who were now intermingled with the Centurions. He actually saw a few smiles. “You're welcome to join us.”

  Julius let out a long sigh. “We are all dead tired from running. We could use a place to rest.”

  Marik let out a whistle and his men all snapped their heads towards him. “Back to camp,” Marik said. “We’re bringing our new friends.”

  ***

  Their encampment was near a small stream, which gave them easy access to fresh water. With a steady rain coming down, water was not really the issue. Keeping warm and dry was now their primary objective. Once the weather turned colder, their shelters would keep the snow off their heads, but they would need walls to keep them warm and dry. Makeshift huts were erected, but it did little to keep the rain and mud from making them miserable.

  As Marik walked passed their outer perimeter guards and towards the camp, he knew that they would not survive long like this. There were many small villages throughout the kingdom, but each one they came across had been demolished and burnt to the ground. They took the time to pile the bodies and burn them, mostly to keep the wild animals from feasting on their corpses. But also because the dead needed to be remembered, and that had been the one way to remember them.

  Curious eyes followed them as the Karmon soldiers and Taran Centurions marched into the center of the camp. At first, the perimeter guardsmen had been wary of the centurions, but it took only one look by the former knight Marik to ease their minds.

  As they approached, a plump man looked out from underneath his hut. Deerskins had been strung above his head to serve as a roof, which did an adequate job of keeping out the rain. His jowls were stuck in a perennial scowl.

  “Marik!” The man called out.

  Marik turned to him and replied, “Lord Martin! Come greet our guests.”

  Lord Martin gave the centurions a long look before giving a qui
ck shake of his head. “You know how the rain affects me.”

  Marik restrained himself, but he still snapped, “The rain affects everyone the same. We’re all wet and cold.”

  Lord Martin grabbed a thick wool cloak and pulled it around his shoulders. With the hood pulled over his head, he darted out to them.

  “Who is this!” Lord Martin demanded with a firm tone, trying to reassert his authority.

  “Julius and his men,” Marik replied. “They will be staying with us.”

  “They are Taran.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “But they are the enemy!”

  “The enemy rides the sky and breathes fire,” Marik replied. “They are large creatures with stone for skin, and they are slimy, green-skinned beasts that run on their knuckles. They are not these men here. And if not for them, we would be down ten men. The pack of goblins that has been harassing us turned out to be a bit bigger than we expected.”

  “We have very little food,” Lord Martin continued to protest.

  “We have enough,” Marik retorted.

  “How many are here?” Julius asked.

  Marik turned to him, away from Lord Martin. “We have about thirty-five former knights and guardsmen. Another twenty or so capable fighters. The rest, sixty-three, are women, children, and the elderly. In all, just over a hundred are what’s left of a city of thousands.” Marik watched as Julius glanced at his Centurions. They all shared a look of guilt. Trying to sound upbeat, Marik continued, “We have not traveled as far as Tyre, though. There should be many more survivors that have made their way there. They would have enough fighters to repel goblins. So long as those ogres and dragons stay away, there should be plenty of survivors.”

  “Sounds like a great place to spend the winter,” Julius said.

  A smile spread Lord Martin's chubby cheeks. “That is a fine idea.”

  Marik shook his head in exasperation. “We’ve already talked about this. We stay here.”

  “But if there is a city for us to go to, should we not go there?” Julius asked. His cold and tired men muttered their agreement.

  “You are a commander of centurions?” Marik asked Julius.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Then you should know the answer.”

  “I know a little about your kingdom,” Julius said. “But I to know of Tyre. It is a good sized city, but without walls. It is surrounded by the forests that you call Darkenwood. It would take a mighty army to march through the forest to attack it. And the mightier it is, the easier it would be to counter-attack under cover of trees. You could sail ships up the Tyre River, but they could be attacked from the banks. Its location provides the city with some measure of protection.” He hesitated for a moment and Marik started to answer for him, but he continued. “Against goblins, of course. But not against the flying creatures or those large beasts that tore apart your city. Once those creatures attack, there are no walls to help in the defense of the city and there is nowhere to run. But a camp like this might be small enough to allow us to hide from the main force of goblins.”

  “We cannot survive the winter like this!” Lord Martin cried out. “It won’t be long before the rains turn to snow and the temperatures drop to be unbearably cold. We will all freeze to death out here! If we don’t starve to death, first!”

  “Lord Martin, we have discussed this already!” Marik said, exasperation in his voice.

  “There are many that believe as I do. They are tired of the cold and wet. They want warm, dry beds at night. We have barely enough food to survive. We will not make it through the winter!”

  Marik shook his head. “We have plenty of food.” He gave Lord Martin’s large frame a long look. “At least for most of us. It’s this rain that’s the problem right now. Once we finish putting up shelters to keep us dry through the winter, we’ll be fine.”

  Lord Martin took in a deep breath to help control his emotions. He knew he couldn’t be seen losing control of his emotions, although he was constantly on the brink of just that. As calmly as he could, he replied, “Your optimism is admirable Marik, but the reality is that we are dying out here. If we don’t find proper housing, we will die. And we may be the last of our people.”

  “You forget about the queen. We will fight to keep our kingdom alive until she returns.”

  “If she returns, of course. I would not blame her if she were to never return.”

  Anger that had been building from deep inside him exploded. He forgot all his knight training and let his emotions get the better of him as he stepped forward and grabbed Lord Martin’s cloak. He yanked him close enough to smell his putrid breath.

  “Queen Elissa will return,” Marik shouted. “And she will return with the help of Glaerion’s people. It is our duty as Karmons to hold this kingdom until she returns. If you aren’t willing to help, if you are going to just sit and complain all day long, then you can leave this camp right now. We don’t need you. You are of no help to us. You can’t swing a sword or an ax. You can’t cook, and you refuse to help in any manner that would be useful.”

  “Are you two at it again!” The voice came from across the camp.

  All eyes turned to the man who spoke. He was tall and handsome with sharp, distinguishing features. He had the beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes, which showed him to be just past his prime, but still strong and able-bodied. With long, purposeful strides, he strode over the group.

  Marik gave a slight nod in greeting. “Hargon.” He still could not get over the change in the appearance of the former emperor of Taran. When he had first met him, he was ragged and unkempt. With long hair that was tangled and matted and a beard to match, he had the look of a street beggar. But with a fresh shave and haircut, he cleaned up to be barely recognizable from his old self.

  Hargon smiled back and then turned towards the centurions. “Newcomers, I see. Welcome to our camp.”

  Julius gave Hargon a long look, as if he recognized the face, but couldn’t place where he had seen him before. “Thank you,” Julius said. “I welcome your generosity.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, Hargon let out a laugh. “You do not recognize me?”

  “Should I?”

  Hargon laughed even harder.

  “You said Hargon, right?” Julius asked, looking at Marik. “That is a Taran name. Like the former Emperor Hargon.”

  “That is right!” Hargon replied.

  “What are you saying? That he is really Emperor Hargon?”

  Marik interrupted and explained, “Yes, that is Hargon, but he is the former emperor of Taran.”

  The centurions glanced at one another.

  “I don’t understand,” Julius said. “You are dead!”

  “My dear brother Tarcious wanted everyone to think that I was dead so that he could take the empire from me.”

  Julius opened his mouth to speak, but only gibberish came out. Clumsily, he dropped to a knee, as did the rest of the Taran Centurions.

  Hargon walked over to Julius and pulled him to his feet. “No!” he said. “I am no longer emperor. You do not need to bow to me at all!”

  “Are we all just going to stand out in the rain?” Lord Martin asked, pulling his cloak tighter about his body.

  “The days of sitting comfortably in front of a stone hearth with a blazing fire are but a distant memory,” Hargon said. “I could care less if there is a roof over my head or walls to keep in the heat. I am alive, and that is all I care about!”

  “Well, I care,” Lord Martin grumbled.

  Hargon laughed as if he had no other cares in the world. His eyes continued to sparkle with a brilliance that outshone the grim conditions of the camp. “Fellow Tarans! Under the canopy of the trees, there is a fire to keep us warm and lean-tos to keep the rain off our heads. Within the hour, there will be food. Come, enjoy what hospitality we can provide.”

  “Food and a warm fire will be most welcome,” Julius replied.

  Hargon led them out of the clearing and into the
woods. Lord Martin and Marik watched them leave.

  When they were far enough away, Lord Martin said, “I do not trust him. I trusted him more when I thought he was a vagabond.”

  “What’s not to trust?” Marik asked. “He is just happy to be alive.”

  “How can anyone be happy to be alive now,” Lord Martin retorted. Then he spun on his hills and walked quickly back to his tent.

  The rain wasn’t heavy enough to soak into Marik’s wool cloak, but if he stayed out in the open too much longer, his cloak would become saturated. Then the chill would come. He stood alone, watching Lord Martin disappear into his make-shift shelter. He understood how Lord Martin was feeling, as their lives had indeed become hard. There was little to be happy about, but he also knew now was not the time to wallow in grief or fear. The last of his kingdom could be right here in this camp, and he needed to do all he could to keep his people alive. Soon, the queen would return with Conner and all the Elves. Then, they could counter-attack against the Deceiver and take back their kingdom. In the meantime, he just needed to help keep as many soldiers and knights alive as he could.

  Chapter Two

  The Flying Narwhal cut through the short, choppy waves of the open ocean water with little trouble. Conner stood at the bow of the ship, watching the hazy horizon, happy that the rolling waves of the past few days were gone. The sun was high in the sky, burning down upon them. The late autumn wind and rain of the northern climate were gone. It was back to summer weather for them. Cloaks and warm clothes were stored below, and he wore a light tunic borrowed from one of the sailors. It fit a little snug, which caused him to be reminded of the thickness of his body. It had not been too long ago that he had been a long and lean boy, but now manhood had taken over his physique.

  It had been nine days since they had left the shores of Karmon barely escaping the rocks that were tossed from the Stone Ogres. A sense of guilt hung over him because he had left the war that came to his kingdom. There was a really good chance that when they returned, Marik and the rest of the kingdom would be dead. It pained him to be so far away, unable to help them stay alive. He was safe, while they were in the midst of a war they could not possibly win. Someone had to go to the Elves to convince them to help in the war. Although he knew he was the right person, it didn’t ease his conscience.