Soul Under the Mountain (Legend of Reason Series)

by Guyton, David J.

  Herrus paused and weighed the words he had just heard before speaking. "Maybe I underestimate the motives and determination of this new fighting force. Freedom is enough to motivate me, and I will follow you whether you are a god or not. Forgive me if I have offended you."

  "No need to ask for forgiveness, my friend. I understand your concern. The only thing I—"

  Before he could finish his sentence a loud voice called out, sending chills of terror down every spine. "It's over, Medorans. Come out."

  No one moved or dared to breathe. Weapons were already in hand, but no man raised them, fearing that giving away their location would be a mistake. It was possible that other members of their party had been spotted, and it was still safe in the bushes.

  A sword parted the bushes right in front of Rommus's face. "I said come out of there, Medorans. You belong to us now."

  Rommus had no choice but to do as commanded. He got up slowly, still holding his sword but holding it loosely as if willing to surrender it. Once out of the thick brush, he laid the sword on the ground. Five other Medorans followed his lead and did the same.

  Chapter 7

  Someone kicked Rommus behind his knee and put him on the ground. A violent jarring of his head was probably a sword pummel to the back of his helmet. The line of captured Medorans rang and clanged as all the men received similar blows to their armor. More and more Vindyri-actual Vindyri—showed up and surrounded them from all sides. Their number had swollen to about 30 men before two were sent away to inform the rest of the army about the Medorans they had captured.

  Rommus knelt before a huge man wearing larger armor than the rest of them. His helmet bore a crest of horsehair, signifying his rank as an officer. His helmet hid most of his face, but a thick gray mustache could be seen inside framing his mouth and ending below his chin. Locks of wavy gray hair shot through with blonde streaks escaped from the rear of the helmet, landing on his broad, armored shoulders.

  "A black sword, I see," the officer said, looking into Rommus's eyes. "You're too young and stupid to be the true owner of that sword. Has the previous owner died?"

  "I don't know what you mean," Rommus replied.

  "Yes you do, boy. I know whose sword that is. I have seen it before. Take off your helmet—that is, take off our helmet."

  Rommus raised his hands to his head slowly, removing the helmet. Wide eyes and proud chuckles came from the curious Vindyri soldiers when they saw his face. They definitely knew who he was, and they knew they had captured a very valuable person. Rommus sighed and put his hands behind his head.

  "Tirinius," the officer said. "You look just like him. It's like staring into the past. I have met your father many times on the battlefield. Surely Tannis has told you stories about the great Desmond Afornn."

  Rommus leaned forward and spat at the ground. "Never heard of you."

  The slight smile inside Desmond's helmet melted away. "No matter. He'll be reminded of my greatness soon enough. How did you get into the city?"

  "We've been here throughout the entire occupation," Rommus lied. "We even helped build those walls over there on the north side."

  "Do not take me for a fool, boy. There is a reason your father could never kill me. Now let's get down to business. You will answer me immediately after I ask my questions."

  Rommus couldn't help but remember saying nearly the same sentence to men he had captured earlier in the evening. Here he was, on his knees, in much the same predicament. He hoped that he would not meet the same fate as those men, but regardless of how similar the situations were, Rommus knew he was in the right. He did not invade Vindyrion and sack a city. He didn't stage troops inside a foreign country in order to organize an assault on the people of that nation. In fact, the only battle he attended in recent memory was out on the Vindyri plains, fighting for the Vindyri against the Bhoors. It was the Vindyri who never showed up to that battle; instead marching into Medora and destroying the capital Brinn and her sister city Taburdum.

  "Well?"

  Rommus had been lost in thought and hadn't heard whatever Desmond asked. "What's that? I wasn't paying attention."

  Desmond punched him—hard. "Do I have your attention now, little Tirinius? How many of you are there in here with us?"

  Rommus could taste the blood oozing between his teeth. "500."

  Another powerful fist wrecked his jaw, this time knocking him off his knees, into the air and on his back. He had never been hit so hard in his life. The world seemed all wobbly, and the only thing keeping him from thinking it was a dream was the horrible pain across his face. What he had first thought of as a somewhat portly, older man had turned out to be some kind of battle-hardened super warrior.

  As he lay there on his back, staring at the bushes, he could just barely make out the shape of the lone Medoran soldier hiding inside them. Next to him was the captured Zeke. Both men were completely still, and the soldier was waiting for a command from Rommus."

  Desmond approached and stood over Rommus. "One last time, boy. How many of you are in here?"

  Rommus exaggerated his daze, flipping his head back and forth in mock confusion. "One—two—"

  When the men heard a loud, firm "three" they sprang into action. Rommus whipped his legs up in the air as he lay on his back. He hooked them around Desmond and threw him to the ground with all the force he could muster. The soldier hiding in the bushes rushed out and stabbed the Vindyri closest to the pile of collected weapons. The other Medorans fought their way over to the pile and grabbed whatever they could.

  Rommus was on his feet, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his wrist. He was calm and still except for his slow, heaving breaths. He didn't even bother running for a weapon; he just locked eyes with Desmond, who was still struggling to get up off the ground. His heavy frame made him a powerful man, but it also was a hindrance. He was fast with a punch and probably with a sword as well, but slow when moving his entire bulk.

  Rommus didn't move. He didn't try to attack Desmond before he could get up. He didn't check his surroundings for other Vindyri who might slice off an arm or even his head. He just stood there, heaving tufts of steam from his lungs out into the frigid night air.

  Desmond never broke eye contact as he stood up, but once he was upright, he rolled them. "Your father wasn't even a match for me, boy. You're half the man he was."

  Rommus zigzagged over to Desmond to mask his intent. When he reached him, he didn't strike him or grapple with him. Instead, he twisted his helmet around his head, blinding him and breaking his nose in the struggle. Rommus floated passed him and rolled as silently as he could over to his father's sword.

  Pain stung his face. Desmond had removed his helmet in a blink and had used it to hammer Rommus in the face when he wasn't expecting it. Before he even knew what hit him, Desmond's heavy fist smashed into his face again. It didn't make a lot of sense, but somehow the fist seemed to hurt worse than the metal helmet did.

  His vision had gone blurry with watery eyes. His whole face hurt. His senses had all been dulled by pain. He stumbled away from the direction he thought Desmond was in, doing anything he could to avoid getting punched again.

  All around him swords clanged. Men screamed as they hacked and stabbed. Even though the Medorans were in a bad position, the fact that they were still on their feet and fighting against such terrible odds was a good sign. Rommus had lost track of how long the battle had been going on, but getting pummeled in the face over and over could turn a few seconds of fighting into an eternity.

  The objective was now to escape alive. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the army knew about their infiltration of the city, and hordes of men would soon pour into the area. Rommus and several of his men were injured, and they needed to get out of the city before injuries turned into deaths.

  Desmond stomped ever closer. Rommus was willing to retreat from the battle and call it a loss, as long as he could get his men to safety. But Desmond was determined not to let that happen. Romm
us wasn't sure if Desmond even cared to capture him; it seemed like all he cared about was inflicting pain on the son of his former rival.

  Desmond swung again, but Rommus was able to duck this time. While closer to the ground, he stepped in and grabbed Desmond's leg and lifted with all his might. He was able to knock him off balance again, and he stumbled and tripped backwards over a fallen soldier.

  Rommus wasted no time. "Retreat!"

  It wasn't the best circumstances to call for a retreat, but he feared there would be no other option for it. The sun had already touched the sky far off to the east, and was beginning to usher in the soft light of dawn. In the distance, at the clumps of large buildings at the city center, a dark, undulating mass of men could be seen coming towards them. They had to escape soon or death was certain.

  The men did their best to obey the retreat command, but some found it difficult with all the swords and shields blocking their way. Eventually they all clustered off to the side and could finally run with Rommus toward the western gate.

  The Medorans stripped off whatever armor they could to lighten their load and gain speed. Rommus suddenly panicked, realizing that he had left his father's sword back at the battle. His heart sank, knowing that that sword was very important to his father. Even when Rommus had offered to craft him a superior sword, Tannis refused, saying that it had served him well and he would keep it in this world and even take it to the next one. He had made it clear that he wanted the sword to be buried with him. Rommus hoped that one of the other Medorans picked it up during the skirmish.

  On they ran. Only a handful of Vindyri still chased them, most being killed or injured back at the battle. It wasn't surprising that the Medorans took far fewer casualties, being that the Medorans were generally better trained and disciplined fighters. The Vindyri were a looser bunch, but made up for their lack of rigid training by being as brutal as they could be. But some Vindyri were extraordinary warriors. This Desmond Afornn was one of those men.

  One of the men had grabbed Zeke and shoved him along in front of him. Zeke could have easily just run off in another direction, but he did as he was prodded to do. It was possible that he feared that there was a sword at his back—but there wasn't. There was only a fleeing Medoran at his back running for his life.

  As they passed the graveyard one of the Vindyri pulled out a horn and began sounding an alarm. There was no doubt that many other soldiers waited at the western gate, and the soldiers pursuing the Medorans were going to want their help. They were attempting to crush the Medorans in a vice.

  Herrus heard the horn and immediately turned around. He ran at full speed towards the enemy, desperately trying to kill the man sounding the alarm. With a swift slice, he cleaved the horn in half, along with a good portion of the soldier's face. The stunned soldier fell, rolling down a hillside. His companions immediately sheathed their cold blades inside Herrus's gut. Blood poured from several wounds and out of the Medoran's mouth. He fell to his knees as other soldiers paused to hack in a fit of fury.

  Herrus had suffered a cruel fate, but he had also destroyed the horn and bought them precious time. Assuming the guards at the gate had not heard the initial calls, they would be taken by surprise when the Medorans arrived there. It had occurred to Rommus that the tunnel would be a better exit; however his mission was to get the gate open for the Medoran troops to enter. He already failed to set fires or cause any sort of damage to the fortifications, and he simply could not return without getting that gate open.

  They ran passed the museum with the pursuing Vindyri quite a ways behind them. Their armor and their attack on Herrus had slowed them significantly, but not enough for the Medorans to escape them completely. A few of the enemy had fallen behind, unable to run any farther under the weight of their armor. Only 11 still gave chase to the fleeing Medorans.

  On the Medoran side, the rest of the men charged with assassinating the Vindyri officers had returned during the battle. Herrus was the only one who had fallen, so eight men ran with Rommus. While the odds of defeating all 11 of the Vindyri were fairly good, it was far too risky to stop and fight. There was no doubt that many Vindyri-including Desmond—would soon be on their heels. Rommus could not risk it, and kept running.

  Finally torches could be seen in the distant mists. Atop a tall wall, several Vindyri guards could be seen in the faint morning light, and a few of them rushed out to meet the Medorans before they reached the gate. Four Vindyri had left their posts, and another four stayed. The four at the top of the wall were archers, and arrows were already whizzing through the air. With no armor, the Medorans were in trouble.

  Chapter 8

  Tannis saw the archers turn around, firing arrows back into the city. Rommus had failed to set anything afire, which would have been a better cue, but the archers turning was a welcome sight. It meant that the crew of Medoran assassins had completed their task, and with any luck the gates were about to open. He held his hand up as he watched, signaling to the soldiers around him to stay quiet and to watch him for commands.

  The ringing of steel and grunts of desperate men could be heard over the wall, along with the twangs of bowstrings. Every now and then the plink of arrow hitting armor pierced the air. Tannis looked over his shoulder at one of his Captains and nodded towards him. The silent command was for the Captain to send a few archers out across the short field and take out the Vindyri archers atop the wall.

  Six men slipped quietly from the tree line. They waded through the gentle morning mist and crept close to the makeshift wall protecting the city. All of them worked in unison, and when one archer nodded, all of them fired their arrows at once. A few ricocheted off of armor, but three arrows hit their mark and took the fight right out of the wounded men. Before they knew what hit them, more Medoran arrows tore into them. One fell backwards, tumbling back down the wall into the waiting daggers of the Medoran archers on the ground.

  With nothing left to hide, Tannis stood and loudly barked out orders. "Medorans! To the gates! Fall in!"

  A thousand men stood and left the trees, forming ranks as they did so. They formed phalanxes, 50 men to a row and 18 rows deep. Behind the phalanxes were two more rows of archers. They marched in formation to the gates, where they halted; the front line lowering their spears. They waited in silence for orders, the breeze tugging at their crimson capes.

  Over the wall, the battle grew quiet. All the men waited in wonder, curios about who had won on the other side. It seemed to be a very long wait, and for a time Tannis thought that it was the Vindyri who had finished off the Medorans inside, and that the gates would probably be bricked over from the inside permanently.

  But the heavy wooden doors creaked. They were pulled open from the inside, and Tannis saw his son, injured, standing in front of four other Medoran heroes. A bound Vindyri prisoner accompanied them and was pushed along by one of the soldiers. Rommus staggered out of the gates and his men followed.

  "We've lost some men," Rommus said.

  Tannis stepped off to the side as the Phalanxes marched into Taburdum. "I know son. I knew you would. Those men knew it when they went in there with you. They are honorable men. They are heroes."

  "Your sword. It's gone. I lost it in battle."

  Tannis put his hand on his son's shoulder. "It's alright son. It's just a piece of metal. What matters is that you completed your mission and you have returned. Did you kill all of the officers?"

  Rommus shook his head. "Not all of them. According to our prisoner here, we got all but three of them. Two were awake and on duty. You were wrong about them sticking the lowly officers with night watch. I ran into a very formidable foe. He said he knew you."

  Tannis knew who it was before Rommus could say it. "Desmond Afornn."

  "Yeah, him. I got into a little fight with him."

  Tannis's mouth fell open in shock. "Are you kidding? Rommus, do not fight that guy. Stay away from him. I mean it."

  "I did fine. I'm here aren't I?"

  "Rommus
Desmond is not like anyone else you've ever confronted. He has been my arch enemy for decades. He's still alive, even with me going after him all these years. Doesn't that say enough?"

  "Believe me, I learned my lesson. If I can avoid him, I will—at least while I am not wearing the armor of Arius. I was a fool not to bring it in there with me."

  "It had to be done this way, Rommus. Besides, it's good for you to be down in the trenches with your men. It shows you are a true warrior and they will follow you because of it. Those dainty officers who yell orders from horseback are not real leaders."

  "Speaking of that, don't you need to get in there with your men? There's an awful lot of Vindyri and Bhoors coming this way. They are going to be very angry."

  "No, I am not fighting on this side of the battle. I will command the larger force on the other side of the city. I have Rhodiir and an escort of 20 horsemen that will be leaving with me shortly."

  "I see. Well, it's going to take a lot to send those animals running the other way. There's a lot more than a thousand men coming this way. I hope we can handle them."

  "Of course we can, Rommus. We use the phalanx. Those brutes just rush up to an enemy and swing. They have no discipline. They have no weapon that can defeat it."

  "Well, I hope you're right," Rommus said. "But I take nothing for granted. Anything can happen."

  "Smart boy. Before I leave, what did you learn from your prisoner?"

  "I haven't had time to ask him much. He says the Zidaoz is coming here to Taburdum in a little over a week. He told us where the officers slept and his information proved to be correct. Of course I don't trust him, but so far he's cooperated well. You can take him with you if you want to question him yourself."

  "I will do that. Now get your men into the woods. There's a medic and horses waiting for you a few hundred yards in. You need to get to Brinn as soon as you can. Vohl is looking for you. He says it's important."