The Warden's Sword (The Warden Saga Book 2)

by Paul Summerhayes

  Over confident. Good.

  Severus kept his distance. His longer sabre gave him an advantage over a short weapon but not against Maximillian. The delay would work at the human’s impatience—hopefully he would make a mistake.

  Suddenly Maximilian lunged forward with a sword thrust, which Severus skilfully dodged. The second sword whipped at Severus’s neck and only the eldon’s reflexes saved him from losing his head. The short blade left a bloody line across Severus’s chin.

  “You’re too slow,” said Maximilian confidently. “Let see what you’ve really got.”

  Severus remained silent and circled his opponent, watching for an opening. Maximilian came in hard, raining blows fast and from every angle. Metallic impacts rang out across the deserted mountain. The flurry of blows had Severus backpedalling as he blocked each attack.

  Their breathing was even when they broke apart and neither appeared tired, but sweat formed on Severus’s forehead despite the cold mountain air. Maximilian smiled but his eyes showed no emotions.

  Seeing an opportunity, Severus leapt forward, weaving his sabre in a large deadly arc. The shorter man sprung back and kept out of reach of the curved blade. The eldon pushed his attacks hard knowing that he was not in good shape and was tiring quickly. A year on the run had taken its toll.

  As soon as Severus broke away, Maximilian renewed his attacks—this time with greater speed and force. Severus was barely able to defend himself from the onslaught. Hell!

  Severus misjudged a sword thrust and he clenched his teeth as Maximilian’s sword bit deep into his leg. Biting back a cry, he clumsily deflected a blow aimed at his head only to have Maximilian stab his shoulder. His sabre slipped from his grasp and he dropped to his knees, his head bowed in defeat.

  A moment of poor concentration and the fight was over. Maximilian stood triumphant over his enemy. “You fought well, Severus,” gloated Maximilian. “But I will tell our Brothers that you cried and begged for your life like the dog that you are.”

  Maximilian pushed a sword into the ground and grabbed the eldon’s black hair, pulling his head back mercilessly. “I want to see your face as you die…old friend.”

  Maximilian raised his sword to decapitate Severus but before the blow fell, the eldon drove his knife into Maximilian’s groin. The human released Severus’s hair and cried out in agony. Withdrawing his knife, Severus lunged forward and drove the bloody blade into his opponent’s throat. Blood flowed over his hand and Maximilian fell silently into the soft snow, the knife protruding from his neck.

  Severus staggered to his feet, blood flowing down his leg and from his shoulder. He had no feeling in his sword arm, it hung limply at his side. He dropped to knees and swayed, looking at the sky for a moment before he fell face forward. And there he lay, his blood staining the snow…

  Chapter 8

  Kirk Auttenburg ran a hand through his greasy blonde hair. The man didn’t look happy siting on the small bunk in the warden’s cell. He sat brooding and cast hateful looks at his captors.

  “You can’t hold me here forever,” Kirk stated. “My father will get me out.”

  Garm walked to the cell and looked down at its occupant. “You got your just deserts, Kirk Auttenburg.” Wisely, Kirk fell silent. In the past year, he had been on the end of Garm’s fists on more than one occasion and he wasn’t pushing his luck now.

  “Where are the other kidnappers?” asked Finn.

  “Others? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A smile touched Kirk’s lips for a brief moment. “You two might be wardens but my father owns this town. You eldon shouldn’t be living in civilised towns with decent folk. You should go back to your mountains. You’re not wanted here.”

  “I’ve never understood why you hate us so much.”

  “Because you don’t belong here. Taking our jobs, money…women.”

  “Is this why you help those kidnappers? You think Finn is taking Anna from you?” asked Garm.

  Kirk remained silent.

  The brothers’ morning routine was interrupted with a knock at the front door. They looked at each other before Finn opened the door. Standing in the doorway was Achim Auttenburg, Kirk’s father.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, boy. Let me in,” said Achim. Finn stood back and the grey-haired, rosy-cheeked man entered. He wore an expensive coat and a fur hat and left a trail of mud on the floor. Achim glared at his son sitting in the small cell.

  Kirk stood and gripped the iron bars. “You eldon scum are going to get it now.”

  “Shut your mouth, you ungrateful brat,” said Achim. “What are you doing get mixed up in robbery?” Kirk looked at his father but after a few short moments, he dropped his eyes. Kirk’s father’s temper was famous in Freewater. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of one of his rants.

  “And possible kidnapping,” added Finn.

  Achim looked at Finn with obvious disdain. “Kidnapping? This little shit is stupid but not that stupid.”

  “The judge will decide,” said Garm.

  “Judge Foley? When is he due?”

  “In a week or two.”

  “Good. Let him sit in that cage.” Achim stepped toward his son. “Your inheritance is on the line and if you ever…” He was too furious to finish his statement.

  Kirk met his father’s gaze with wet eyes. “I am sorry, Father.”

  “And so you should be.” Achim walked to the front and turned to look back at his son, “This is your last chance to turn your life around. Wake up to yourself...” Achim Auttenburg stormed out without closing the door.

  Just at sun down, Finn pushed the north gate closed and secured the draw bolt. Freewater’s gates were not locked and could be easily opened from the inside. Their purpose was to stop people from entering town after dark. In the wild days, the village walls kept out marauding orcs, goblins and hungry packs of wolves or worse. Most of the countryside’s roaming dangers had been eliminated by the king’s army a generation ago. Though fewer in number, orcs and wolves were still present in the wilderness but they were no longer a real threat to settlements. Companies of Tarmian soldiers constantly scouted the country’s borders and occasionally passed through Freewater.

  Finn walked toward Anna’s house and when entering Willow Street, he was surprised by a large number of horses in front of her house. What now?

  He picked up his pace and was almost running by the time he neared her house. Several men broke away from the horses and barred Finn’s path. They were knights and wore steel helmets, chainmail shirts and leggings. A dark blue surcoat was worn over the top of their armour and adorned with a golden eagle head. The same design was on their shields.

  The lead knight raised a hand and commanded, “Halt! State your business here, eldon.” His deep voice had an accent.

  “I am Freewater’s warden. What’s your business here, Krystorian?”

  “Is that you, Master Finn?” asked the knight, taking off his helmet.

  “Renato?”

  “Yes, Master Finn.” It was one of Prince Anthon’s knights that Finn had met in Krystoria when he rescued Anna from the necromaster.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Prince Anthon has formally invited the Lady Anna to Krystoria.”

  “What?” Finn’s mind went numb. “Why?”

  “My prince has requested that Lady Anna visit him in his Parma summer house. The prince is being honoured by King Ferdinand and will be promoted to the rank of Lord Protector of the North. He would like the lady to share in the celebrations. For her protection, he has sent ten of his best knights to escort her.”

  “This is not a good time,” said Finn. “Has Anna told you what happened here last night?”

  “Yes, Master Finn,” replied the knight. “She did appear to be happy by the invitation.”

  “Well, it’s too dangerous. Sorry to disappoint the prince but she won’t be going.”

  “The choice is hers,” said Renato. “May I suggest tac
t when you discuss this with her?”

  “Tact?”

  “What do you mean I can’t go?” asked Anna angrily.

  “I think it’s not advisable to go at this time,” Finn tried to sound calm. “You were almost kidnapped.”

  “Kirk said it was a robbery.”

  Anna’s stepparents, Mayor Ernst and Joanna Bohmer, stood in their living room with a pretty dark-haired hand maid and watched Anna and Finn. The mayor smiled, enjoying Finn’s discomfort. After all, it was not his place to educate the young eldon in the finer art of negotiating with women—especially one as stubborn as Anna.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” said Anna. “I’m going to Krystoria. I want to see a Krystorian city.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Why?”

  “For your protection.”

  “Anthon has sent me my own maid and ten armed knights. I don’t think I will require any additional protection.” The young maid, Eula, uncomfortable by their arguing, kept her eyes lowered and remained silent.

  “Okay, you two, that’s enough. You sound like an old married couple,” said the mayor. “I cannot see any reason why you both can’t go to the prince’s ceremony. And Anna, Finn is concerned for you. Nothing more. A lot has happened recently, it would be nice if a friend was there to look out for you. It would make your mother feel better.”

  Mrs. Bohmer agreed. “Darling, let Finn come along.”

  “If you insist.” Anna didn’t look happy.

  “If you don’t want me to go, say so,” said Finn.

  “No. I will feel safer if you come.”

  “We can leave after Kirk’s trial.”

  “Renato says the ceremony is a week away. We have to leave tomorrow to get to Parma in that time,” said Anna.

  “When is the judge passing through?” asked the mayor.

  “In a few days. He is currently in Treemere.”

  “Maybe you could catch us up after the trial,” said Anna.

  “Can Garm stay for the trial and you go with Anna tomorrow?” asked Mrs. Bohmer.

  “No, ma’am. I caught Kirk so it’s my duty to be present at the trial.”

  “Well, that’s settled. You’ll have to catch up to her after the trial is finished,” said the mayor. “One man can travel faster than many.”

  Year - 838

  Chapter 9

  Severus opened his eyes. He lay in a soft bed and was covered in a thick fur blanket. Where am I? A small fire crackled in a stone fireplace in the corner of the small room. The walls and ceiling were constructed from large logs and the room was windowless and had only one exit through a rough cut timber door. It was closed. Apart from the bed in which he lay, there was nothing else in the room.

  Where’s my gear…my weapons... There was no sign of any of his belongings and even the night shirt he wore wasn’t his. Trying to sit caused a sharp pain to shoot through his shoulder and down his sword arm. “Arr!” He dropped back on the bed, gripping his shoulder. Crap.

  The door opened and someone entered. Without thinking, Severus sprung out bed and ignoring the pain in his body, he grabbed the newcomer by the throat with an iron grip.

  “Stop!” cried a feminine voice.

  Severus relaxed his grip slightly and looked at his victim. It was a young eldon woman. She trembled slightly under his grip but she didn’t display the fear she must have felt.

  “I’m here to help,” she said, little more than a whisper.

  For several long moments Severus held her throat and then released her, dropping back onto the bed in pain. He felt weak, weaker than he had ever been before—he had lost a lot of blood.

  “That’s no way to treat a person trying to save your life,” she said.

  She was typical of eldon women—tall, thin and elegant. Her long, glossy black hair hung loose on her shoulders and her flawless completion was darker than his own pale grey skin. She was beautiful.

  The woman must have been uncomfortable under his gaze but her eyes met his defiantly.

  “I am sorry, my lady. I acted on instincts,” he apologised. “I meant no harm.”

  She studied him silently.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  “You’re in my parents’ house.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re in the Cold Heart Mountains, not far from where we found you. You were almost dead.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Five days ago.”

  Severus tried to stand but her gentle hand pushed him back to the bed. “I must leave,” he muttered. “Where…is my stuff?”

  “We left everything on the road with the dead. You were the only survivor so we brought you here. You have lost a lot of blood.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “My parents and me.”

  “I must go. I will bring danger to your family,” he tried to stand but the pain forced him down again.

  “It looks like you won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

  “I…just need to catch my breath.”

  “Get back under the blankets.”

  He obeyed and she pulled the blankets over him and tucked them under the mattress. She had a faint smell of baked bread as she leant over him.

  The woman opened the door and he stopped her with a question. “What’s your name?”

  “My name is Leanar,” she said with a faint smile. “What are you called?”

  “Severus.”

  Leanar left the room.

  Severus woke with a strong smell of smoke in his nostrils—he felt sluggish and his body refused to move. The smell reminded him of growing up in the Brotherhood. It was the duty of every initiate to work for their keep and he had spent years washing floors, cleaning stoves, chimneys and other tasks for the senior Brothers. He had good memories of that time. Except for Maximilian...

  The house was silent and it took Severus a moment to notice black smoke snaking its way under the door. He sat up suddenly and pain shot through his body. “What?”

  Climbing out of bed, his feet touched the cold floor. He crept across the room and threw open the door, looking out into a larger room. It was full of smoke and flames danced around the walls, curtains and furniture.

  “Hello?!” he shouted as he stepped in the room. No one was visible. Coughing hard, Severus covered his mouth with a hand. The smoke blurred his vision and his eyes watered. The heat was intense as a thick beam fell from the ceiling sending orange sparks into the smoke-filled air.

  Wearing only a nightshirt, Severus limped across the room looking for an exit. Miraculously, he stumbled out of the log cabin and the cold mountain air assaulted his sore body as the snow crunched under his bare feet. He shielded his eyes from the sun and after his eyes focused, he realised the cold was the least of his problems.

  Closest to him was the girl, Leanar, and beside her stood middle-aged male and female eldons—her parents. Her father carried a woodsman’s axe and stood ready to defend his family from the ring of men in front of them. There were six humans and a dwarf—all unsavoury types and carrying a variety weapons.

  “Here’s our bounty now.” The broad-shouldered dwarf stepped forward, hefting a battle axe. “We’ll take him and leave.”

  A hand on Severus’s shoulder stopped him from moving forward. Leanar’s father, Arkeen, stepped past Severus and addressed the group of hired swords. “He is under my roof…and my protection.”

  “He’s a murderer of women and children,” spat the dwarf grimly. “And there’s a bounty on his head…” He raised his battle axe and indicated his companions. “We’re collecting it now. So move aside, old man.”

  Arkeen chuckled, “I have never been accused of being wise before.” He stepped forward but this time it was Severus who stopped him. Arkeen met Severus’s cold gaze and sucked in a breath. In that instance, the old eldon knew that the dwarf spoke the truth about their visitor.

  “I will leave,” said Severus softly. “It’s not your fight.” Raising hi
s hands as a signal of submission, Severus limped across the snow-covered ground toward the dwarf and his companions.

  The dwarf couldn’t believe his luck and grinned. The rumours were wrong. This was not the killer of generals and kings. This was just a skinny and severely beaten eldon and like his entire race, he was weak. “Well, eldon, at least you know when you are beaten,” said the dwarf.

  “But it’s not today,” replied Severus softly.

  The dwarf’s gaze met Severus’s cold stare and his eyes went wide. “Shit!” was all the dwarf managed before a kick from Severus drove the air from his lungs. The bearded dwarf doubled over and grunted in pain.

  Grabbing hold of the dwarf’s axe, Severus twisted the weapon and ripped it from its owner’s grip. The weapon whistled through the air and the dwarf’s head left his broad shoulders and landed on the white snow a few yards away. Blood sprayed like a small fountain from the dwarf’s severed neck, turning the surrounding snow red. Almost in slow motion, the headless body fell forward. Severus sidestepped and the dwarf hit the ground with a soft crunch.

  Pain shot through Severus’s shoulder and leg. His wounds would slow his reactions. He turned his attention to the remaining six humans and hoped they didn’t have the smarts to swamp him. The mercenaries looked nervous and glanced anxiously at each other. Each wanted someone else to make the first move.

  In his experience, killing was about timing so Severus exhaled and waited patiently—his eyes surveying each of his opponents.

  A mountain of a man with a barrel chest gathered his nerve and charged, shouting a battle cry as he ran. A lesser warrior would have been intimidated by this mercenary but not an assassin from the Brotherhood of Shadows. Severus sidestepped a broadsword aimed at his head and countered with a downward slash—removing the warrior’s leg below the knee. The big man fell, screaming in agony as his blood pumped onto the snow to mingle with the dwarf’s.