The Secret of Azuron (The Sword Empire Book 1)

by J. R. Kearney

  "There's something strange to seeing so many ships in port at one time, the sea view for one is far less pleasant," said Landau.

  "I dunno how these folks get by on those ships staggerin' the way they do," Elliott said, watching a drunkard wobble down the docks. "Some balance they have."

  "Do you think the Elder can give us breakfast in bed tomorrow? I don't think I'd have the legs to make it to the table."

  "If your da can do it I think you could manage."

  "That's a horrible thing to say," though Landau wasn't angry, just amused at how unaware Elliott was of his insensitivity.

  They were quickly distracted by a strange smell that wafted through the village, like smoke but not from a wood-stoked fire, the smell was far more tainted. The two boys stood in the center of the marketplace, swinging their heads and waving their hands before their faces, both aware that the other could smell the same stench.

  "What is that?" Elliott said, no fires burned bar those that lit the village.

  "Perhaps a vendor left something rotten behind," his whispered voice roared, for the village had become ominously quiet, gentle waves that kissed the cliffs now sounded thunderous amidst the silence.

  Suddenly they heard the scream of a man towards the edge of the village.

  "PLEASE, NOOO!!!" he shouted before his voice cut short.

  The boys stood terrified as a tremendous blast erupted from the main road, flaming debris catapulted across the village, and scarcely avoided them. Townsfolk were alerted to the explosion, candles lit in every house while Clancey and the drunkards stumbled from the tavern to see the commotion.

  Behind a market stall the boys laid low, and precariously watched Rignar the town guard bolt from his home, charging the street with his mace in hand to the fire covered wreckage that was Allegra's home. A crowd of concerned villagers followed, but the heat was unbearable up close and Rignar was denied a choice to search for her family.

  In the middle of the pavement a foreboding figure stood, unarmed in a black hooded cowl, his face unseen in the darkness, wavering none when Rignar approached him.

  "Who are you?!" Rignar shouted, attempting to glimpse his face beneath the cowl, but the bloom of the fire made it hard. "Did you do this?" pointing his mace at the fire, towering before the man shouting "Answer me" in duress.

  The hooded figure remained silent and showed no threat of intimidation. Rignar fearlessly lifted the cowl from the invader himself.

  But it was no man.

  Rignar was mortified to behold a creature that stood like a man, yet its mouth was wide and brimming with sharp teeth, it snarled through a disfigured nose and scowled at him through red, smouldering eyes. Rignar raised his mace to strike but the mangled creature's head began to ignite, a burning orange hue erupted from its neck before its head was entirely consumed in fire. Rignar dropped his mace in woe as its clawed hand pierced his body, his flesh burst into flame and left him writhing, before he collapsed charred, and bleeding on the street.

  Screams intensified, and Landau yelled at Elliott to run, but they couldn't decide where. The creature opened its jaw wider than was possible and unleashed a shrilling cry through fire, all who could hear it blanketed their ears from its harrowing tone. Its cry was a call, for a pack of death hounds hurdled into the streets and chased the villagers, behind them more fiery abominations entered the village and scattered their chaos, devouring another house with flaming anarchy. Landau charged toward the hill to alert his father, though Elliott wasn't behind him, he turned wildly to spot him running to the tavern where Clancey was evacuating everyone. Clancey shouted for them to head for the water, though many took refuge upon the ships or remained inside the tavern to hide.

  "What are you doing?" Landau screamed hesitantly to Elliott.

  "I need to get Timothy, he's still in there!"

  "Elliott!" he protested, but among the crowd and smoke he vanished.

  Landau scurried up the mountain as low as he could. Clancey observed Elliott running towards him and shouted for him to turn back. Timothy labored his way outside, hearing the screams of his brother he frantically forged a path through the fearful villagers to secure him. Landau could only watch in fright, as two pernicious death hounds strolled through the market place towards the tavern, their baneful gaze froze everyone in horror, with red eyes that flared like embers in the night, and black skin that smouldered like coals. The hounds growled in intimidation, and lunged towards the tavern, their hooves thumped deep into the pavement, their flesh began to flare before bursting into flame, and among the fearful crowd they erupted like a fireball into the tavern.

  The explosion resounded like a deafening storm across the farmlands, and the fireball incinerated everything around it.

  Landau cried in terror, burning wreckage from the ‘Floating Barrel’ launched into the ships and obliterated the decks, Clancey's tavern now a sweltering haze, diminished to nothing but searing rubble. His friends were nowhere to be seen. His eyes blurred with tears, his legs couldn't move in fear of being exposed, he crumbled towards the ground in overwhelming heartache before a pair of hands grabbed him from behind, Serin quickly carried him to the Manor.

  "Elliott!" Landau cried, the Elder whispered for Landau to find some calm.

  He ran inside, uselessly locked the door behind him and escorted Landau downstairs to the cellar, there his father and the girls hid beneath the stairs, a heavy cellar door their only protection. His face was coated in tears, and Nicholas did his best to compose his son. Jenny held Boogers tight, not so much frightened as confused when she looked over at Landau.

  "Where's Elliott?" she asked, but Landau could only cry into his father's collar. Serin doused all lights but one while they waited in the dark of the basement in the hope the threat would not find them. He could do nothing for his village.

  Clancey gasped for air when he emerged from the water, his arm heavily burnt yet he swam to grasp the pillars of the dock. Frantically he scouted for the kids, but his attention was forced elsewhere, for fiery chunks of debris plummeted from the ships above while another beside him continued to sink. He waded towards the dock where the ladder was not far, and pulled himself up to look upon his vanquished tavern, where bodies lay scorched and silent across the pavement. He would cry if there was time to mourn, but the hounds still prowled the streets.

  He climbed in discomfort, as the fires blazed forcibly, glaring in the sky to resemble an early dawn, the smoke he inhaled he desperately refrained from coughing. The fiery creatures tread casually through the village, uttering a language that was as dark and infernal as a creature could mutter. Villagers sprinted beyond the hills, or made haste to hide wherever they could.

  Several fire-spawn proceeded up the Whistling Mountain. Clancey gasped heavily, with his one good arm he tried to push himself from the ground, moaning in sufferable pain, but his fortitude weakened, and tears escalated as he willed for the strength to save his friends.

  All of a sudden the sound of burning wood and vicious growls were outdone by the tremor of horses charging from the east, arrows whistled towards the enemy while horsemen stampeded with vengeful swords. Clancey found courage to roll over to glance at the army of soldiers - it was the Alduainians.

  The demons retaliated, and discharged fireballs from their very fingers, shields protected the soldiers barely and forced the soldiers to take cover. The fire-spawn continued up the hill path unvexed, with painful resilience Clancey dragged himself from the ground and clamored to his feet. He staggered through the danger, with every aching step his wound yielded him to fatigue, yet he stumbled forward like a man possessed to favorably find Pollus in the thick of the chaos. Pollus was relieved to see him alive but the reunion was hardly celebrated.

  In a hard pant Clancey pointed toward the hill.

  "The Elder," he managed to say. "They're headed for the Elder's house, atop the hill!"

  Pollus spotted the demons and ordered his men to raise their bow.

  Arrows volle
yed to consume the hill, the creatures turned and glowered with a fervid stare, and fire poured from their palms like liquid, and like a wave it grazed the village. The heat on the soldiers’ armor burned their skin, sweat drowned them in the thick of night and deterred them from moving closer. The infantry dispersed behind their meticulous marksmen, who came to the front and launched their arrows from afar into their flesh, and the demons' bodies disintegrated into ashes upon the impact.

  The hounds now charged toward the clusters of soldiers with their skin ablaze, and no shield or armor could defend the explosion. The knights took cover, and relied on their archers once more, the deluge of arrows were too much for the creatures to bear, and their bodies incinerated with each clout. The growls quickly dispelled and the infantry finished those that were wounded, until every last demon was dust and embers.

  A bellowing horn blew to signify the end of the threat, though villagers remained hidden to hold their loved ones, while troops removed their armaments, sweltered and drained. Clancey succumb to his injury and collapsed, Pollus summoned a healer to tend to his wound, looking at his heavily burned arm with revulsion.

  "Take it easy old friend," said Pollus, pouring water down Clancey's throat while he writhed in pain.

  Exhaustion consumed him and whilst the healer worked her magic Clancey's eyes fluttered, before the stress of his wounds levelled him unconscious.

  Chapter 6

  THE TRIP TO TRIPPLE

  Morning had arrived and the dew had set, and the village looked grey and the very picture of destruction. Several houses had burnt to the ground, others were significantly damaged, none compared to the demolition of the tavern. The majority of soldiers located there, their skin covered in soot while they sifted through debris in hope of finding anyone alive. Sitting in the silence of the cellar, listening to the unfolding sounds around him the night before, Landau remembered the creaking of the floorboards, followed by the crash of the cellar door. No tighter did he hold his father and Jenny, what relief suffused him to see the Alduainians reach out their assisting hand.

  Even now the sounds echoed in his mind. Their village had all but disappeared, the animals had been massacred, and only one boat was sea-worthy, even the majestic Great Oak sat half incinerated, kindling in the morning breeze. Landau sat speechless against an opulent tree outside the Manor, his grief ridden body sat there quiescent and disconsolate, and his stare fixated on the tavern in its desolate state.

  Melly and Jenny joined him, and their gaze was one of confusion, for they hadn't witnessed the attack and now frowned upon the village in its decayed form.

  "Have they found anything?" Melly said tentatively.

  "They're still looking," he muttered, lost in what else to add. The harrowing looks on the Alduainian's faces conceded any such hope.

  "We're glad you're okay Landau, that could have been you down there," Melly said, yet being alive made him feel guilty that Elliott might not be.

  "What did all this Landau?"

  The Elder hadn't told them, and the very question returned images of Rignar, incinerated by the flaming demon with its brimming teeth.

  "Monsters," he said. "Fiery monsters. I don't know what they were, I just ran away." He looked Melly in the eyes as though he was confessing his cowardice. Jenny was quiet, and he pulled her close to speak in a calm whisper.

  "Hey, why don't we go inside with the Elder, get some breakfast yeah, we'll make whatever you like."

  "The Elder isn't inside, he went to talk to Clancey's friend a while ago, over at his place," said Melly.

  Through the smoke Landau could see Clancey's house still intact upon his farm, one of only a few.

  "The Elder once said our village was far from danger. He joked that if any trouble would come here they'd most likely head for Clancey's place, with all his treasures and junk," she recalled. "How strange that it stands unbroken."

  Landau had no insight to why these creatures befouled their village, he assumed the Elder among others were discussing why at this very moment.

  "Ash-Spawn," Pollus dumped a cowl from the deceased onto a table surrounded by Clancey, Serin and Dennus his second in command.

  "Scorched men, whatever you would call them, they thrive in the caverns beneath the Red Mountain, though such places are boundless and void of any life. Whatever depths these demons hailed from is deep indeed to find the light of day."

  "What of these death-hounds of theirs? I have never known such a beast," said Serin.

  "They confuse me more. They are no creature I have ever heard told in story, yet these Ash-Spawn seemed to command them like some kind of servant. My men have heard rumors linking them to cultists, though if that is true we saw none, yet these demons are no crafters to fashion such cloth."

  Clancey held the burnt hood, roughly stitched with a pungent smell of sulfur. He noticed a makeshift emblem of two diamonds, side by side touching at the point, etched into the collar.

  "What kind of cultists would do this?" Serin asked in horror. "What would these demons want with our village, we are hundreds of miles from the volcano?"

  "We don't know, perhaps their destination lay elsewhere, beyond here. We rode as relentless as our horses could manage to follow their smouldering trail, yet always on the horizon we saw them, by some impossible power they fled without rest."

  Serin turned to Clancey, "Why are these creatures suddenly on our doorstep, killing our innocent villagers?"

  "I have no knowledge to give reprieve old friend. I am not the person to ask," but Serin's stare reflected no such credence.

  "I am not daft to your tales Clancey, you disturbed these things all those years ago and now the repentance has fallen upon us."

  "I didn't disturb anything!" Clancey raised his voice, "ashlanders and cultists are different people, don't let your ignorance anger you."

  "Enough!" Pollus cried. "These Ash-Spawn are not driven by vendetta. These demons charged towards this place like a furious wind drove at their backs, several of our horses broke their legs in our effort to keep…" Pollus paused with much frustration, the scarcity of sleep clouded his patience. "These vermin were not galvanized by cultists. Whatever they were out to destroy they were desperate to do so. We are fortunate this was the extent of their damage, had they succeeded here there's no knowing where they thought to strike next."

  "Fortunate?" said Serin agitated. "I don't find solace that victory came at the destruction of my village Pollus. Half the ships are destroyed beyond repair, and our farms are charred in soot and ash. These things are our income, our survival. Not to mention my friends are searing corpses decaying in the streets of my village, forgive me if I am displeased in your fortune!" Serin yelled, every word shouted in emphasized anger. "We are fishermen and farmers; what possible purpose did we bring about for this desolation?"

  Clancey intervened to calm Serin.

  "We acknowledge the devastation here. These soldiers have seen this destruction many times before. Pollus means no disrespect, a lifetime of witness to these atrocities can leave one regrettably tranquil," he turned to his friend who acceded as much. "We need to ensure this danger has ended. What can you tell us Pollus, has the threat gone?"

  "We've sent scouts to patrol the eastern road, our men will be stationed there to intercept any further danger. We've also sent word to the capital, this will concern them also," said Dennus.

  His dialogue was interrupted by Gallus and his men who entered carrying something behind them.

  "What's this?" Pollus said.

  "We're still searching for lost villagers father, our men are probing the shores right now, more have survived than we first anticipated."

  Before them the soldiers strained to place a long iron chest on the table.

  "Several of the Ash-Spawn were found carrying this."

  In the light of day, a faint glow beneath the brim of the lid emanated, Clancey opened the chest for everyone to pore over. There were clothes, blankets, a sword and some tools, but all th
e attention fell on the glowing blue gemstones that sparkled inside. Though no light reflected off them, they glistened with intensity, bedazzling Clancey and the soldiers alike. Pollus raised one from the chest to examine it closer.

  "What is this?" he asked, Clancey squinted though he could see it clearly, enthralled by the swirling motions within.

  "I've never seen anything like it."

  Withdrawn from its box the light gradually receded, like a flame slowly flickering away. Curiously he returned the gemstone into the chest and closed the lid.

  "What are you doing?" Serin asked of him.

  After a brief moment they witnessed the light restore itself once more.

  "It's powered by darkness, most fascinating," said Clancey, disengaged from the weight of the occasion.

  "It's not one of them soul gems conjuror's use in their experiments is it? The Imperials used to practice such arts if you remember."

  "I don't think so. These Ash-Spawn wouldn't have a desire for anything material. It seems strange to fathom these beasts ventured so far as Corcadia to be drawn to something as trivial as a jewel."

  "Whose chest is that anyway?" Pollus spoke aloud.

  Clancey rummaged through the clothes, a light blue vest, a tanned jacket with a hole in the right sleeve, he had seen these things on numerous occasions.

  "These are Landau's clothes," he realized.

  Serin's eyes widened. "Landau?"

  "Who is Landau?"

  "Nicholas's boy, often helps Clancey at the tavern. Are you certain these are Landau's?" asked Serin, Clancey was sure of it.

  "I've never known Landau to own a sword, but Nicholas may well have. These are definitely the tools of a woodworker. I'd wager this is his old tool chest. Everything else in here is a child's, there's no denying it," perplexed on his resolve. "Why would they want this?" His question went to nobody in particular.