The dark warriors were non-selective in their blows. Their blades struck out in every direction. The dead and dying littered the square. Cries of pain and anguish filled the night, even above the din of clashing steel. Darkness began to fill the square as the torchlight was slowly smothered and with it came chaos, which the dark ones used to their advantage.
The innocent tried to flee the square, dragging those who could not make it on their own, but the dark warriors hacked them down as they fled. No one was allowed to leave the square. More of the dark-clothed warriors began filing in from the adjacent byways, as the two forces, one considerably smaller and determined, the other larger and stronger, faced each other.
The rear guard was fully mounted and sought to protect those they honored. Fifty brave souls crashed into the encroaching wave of dark. Their ornamental armor gleamed defiantly and proudly in the pale red light of the square. Their weaponry was varied and though it had all been meant for ceremonial purposes, it was highly functional and well crafted. They bore pikes and spears with great forked blades; some had full-handed swords, others lances, but all poured forth, driven on by anger and anguish to a ferocity that bit into the enemy and would eventually cause their downfall.
Father Francis was mounted next to Keeper Q’yer and the chancellor. They had a momentary reprieve while the dark warriors dropped back to regroup. The three weighed the odds; heavily outnumbered though they were, their protective guards were also on horseback. The enemy was on foot. Hopefully, the defense would last long enough for reinforcements to arrive from Imtal garrison.
The former lord of the Western Territories and empowered lord of High Province stared coldly at his assailants. He looked to Calyin, with one single thought on his mind. He must protect her. He had sworn an oath that he would forever watch over her; he would not fail. Anger also flowed through him. In his territories, though they were not as civilized as here, nothing like this could ever happen. He spat on the ground. If he survived, his honor would demand retribution. He vowed he would kill Chancellor Yi for his incompetence. One stroke of his blade would end the old man’s life and provide partial compensation.
Sister Catrin knelt over her fallen sister. Jasmine had taken a nasty blow to the head and was unconscious. Midori and Catrin placed her upon her mount, then they also remounted. Midori cried out in anguish; Adrina had been taken from her so easily. One moment Adrina had been beside her; the next she was gone and Jasmine lay on the ground. The will of the Mother flowed inside Midori, its power strong and cleansing. A similar flow came to Sister Catrin, yet her anger was not washed away.
The short reprieve was over; the dark warriors had regrouped and now attacked from all sides. The mounted guard plunged again into their midst; their weapons danced in the dull light of the square. Horses trampled over the fallen as they moved outward. Although the attackers were greater in number, they were no match for the superior guard.
The small force seemed to be turning the battle around. Now the enemy was feeling the cold of the rapier. While horses trampled the fallen and claimed what remained of their threads of life, the riders lashed out, finding new victims. But even in the face of the vicious assault by the mounted guard, the enemy did not retreat again. They continued to pour forth almost as if they welcomed death.
Keeper Q’yer concentrated all the energy of his will into a single thought. He cried out to those at the palace and the city garrison for help. He beseeched them to find the urgency in his desperate words and hurry to the square. He did not know if they heard his call, only that his cry went forth. He would have to wait, as would the others, to know if the garrison soldiers would come.
Father Francis could feel the power of the Father within him; to disturb a ceremony of passing of a great one was an outrage. The call of the Mother also came to his mind. He looked to the sisters; he saw that Jasmine was unconscious. He stared beyond her to Midori, who nodded her head and thanked the Father. He reached out and embraced her center. The two were linked together. A warm feeling came over them both. Wild emotions of the joining of both the Mother-Earth and the Great-Father pulsed throughout their entire being. Great power was coming to the fore.
A whirlwind of thought flowed from one mind to the other. Father Francis saw an image of Midori in his mind. They embraced each other, releasing the power as their bodies locked as one in spirit and in mind. A wall of flames shot from the earth, running in a wide arc until it formed a great circle, leaving only the rear guard and the dark warriors in the open. Oddly, the great wall of flames circled the road before the garden of entombment and coronation.
Keeper Q’yer slumped over in his saddle, all his energy spent, in the thrusting out of that one hopeful summons. The twang of release as scores of bowstrings settled back into place, combined with the whine of arrows flying through the air followed by cries of agony, rose above the cacophony of battle. The wall of flame had come just in time to save the inner group. The last of the mounted guard regrouped around the flames, although of fifty, only six remained. They raised their swords high one last time and charged, unafraid and willing to offer their lives for the ones they were devoted to. Arrows pelted them from all sides, and before the first man swung he died.
The five continued on undaunted. Among them were a bladesman, two pikemen, a former huntsman who wielded a double-bladed spear, and a swordmaster first-class. None of them knew this as they shot forth to certain death, each focused on a single line of sight.
For one man, it was the tower of a city church that he wished to reach before he died. For another it was a tavern that lay six blocks north along the eastern side of the square; he could not see it though he knew it was there. For still another it was his home and his wife and child that lay beyond the eastern side of the square.
Not one of the small company reached his goal, yet as each died in his turn, the simple goals seemed to lose their purpose, and as the last man fell, he looked back at the wall of fire, wishing those within luck and survival.
Chapter Three
Adrina felt powerful hands cover her mouth. She tried to scream, but only a voiceless gasp passed her lips. Awestruck, she was swept into the crowd, buried beneath a long flowing black cloak. She looked out with eyes that saw only a dream, not that which was real; and she could do nothing as she was carried away. She could hear the din of a battle as if very far away, veiled from her eyes and masked from her ears by the silencing cloak.
Sounds of agony, her own agony, filled her ears. Once out of the crowd her captors met another group. At first she saw only many black leather boots as she peered downward through the folds of the cloak. The hand was still pressed against her mouth as she was lifted from the veil. Now she saw the masked faces of the small band that had taken her. They paused only to bind and gag her. Once the blindfold was in place, her world returned to blackness. Terror filled her mind and she began to shake uncontrollably.
The blackness began to envelop her, and for a time the princess passed into unconsciousness. This was a quiet time for her as her agony and terror subsided. Unaware that she was being hurried through the back paths and alleyways of Imtal to a waiting group of horsemen, Adrina slept. At some point she was placed onto the back of a horse and led wildly along cobblestone paths although the princess was unaware of this.
The jostling of the horse aroused her and she opened her eyes to find that she was still shrouded in the black cloak. As she regained consciousness, she realized what had happened to her. She waited now, not terrified any longer, but not at ease either. At any moment she expected the palace guard to come to her rescue. She struggled against her bonds to no avail, listening for the thunder of many hooves and the boom of angry voices, signs that her rescuers were near.
She heard hooves pounding across the hard stone streets and she knew they were still inside the city although she did not know where. But she did not hear the thunder of a hundred pairs of hooves striking the ground as she had expected; she heard only those of the small band
that led her away into the darkness. Suddenly, her horse was reined to a halt, and she was lifted from it.
A quiet time passed as leather soles marched along another set of back alleyways. Heavy hands were around her thighs and she kicked, punched, and clawed trying to break free. Shouts filled the air. She heard voices screaming. The hands held her strongly now as the man bolted away. Her head bobbed up and down until it ached as her captor ran madly.
Voices followed, and Adrina realized that her rescuers were close. She felt hopeful, but then without warning she was cast to the ground; her head struck a solid stone wall and then her face hit the cold, cold rock. She lay motionless. Her world seemed still to be moving, swirling around her. Perhaps close by, or perhaps far away, Adrina heard the voices again. They screamed more wildly as panic engulfed them. Her head started to throb and a moist flow began to trickle across her forehead, running warmly until it touched the cold stone, forming a tiny pool beneath her head, which she was unable to move.
Colors of red and gray swam before her eyes. She heard the distant sound of clashing steel, which might have been right beside her; she could not tell. She started to wriggle and writhe as the throbbing in her head was joined by a dull, numbing pain that inched its way up her legs. Pain hit her quickly, sharp and excruciating, as a heavy boot found her gut. Adrina rasped and coughed.
Something fell beside her, prostrate on the cold ground beside her. She groped outward with her hands, finding a cold limp thing that she did not at first recognize as an arm. The numbing pain swept up her legs into her arms and once more she found she could not move. Her hands fell still. The tiny pool beneath her had grown until it was a small puddle that circled her head. With her head pressed against the unforgiving stone, the liquid streamed around her face; she felt it on her chin and then suddenly it touched her lips. It tasted bitter and salty against her tongue.
Hands found her again, heaving her limp form up and pressing her against the stone wall, forcing her to sit upright, her head hanging limply. A dull yellow came before her closed lids as the blindfold was lifted momentarily. The gash at the back of her head was checked and bandaged; with its binding, the moist, warm trickle ended. A dull white light flooded into her eyes as her pupils were checked. A distant voice sounding in her ears whispered, “She lives.”
Hands found her again, groping along the back of her head. The tingling that accompanied the numbing returned and then suddenly the pain was gone, the throbbing subsided, and Adrina found semi-coherence. No longer was her head against the cold unforgiving stone. Something warm was touched to it. For a long while, she didn’t note that she was again draped over a broad shoulder, firm hands clasped to her thighs.
Minutes passed silently and then a grinding noise filled her ears, followed by a pungent aroma that assaulted her nostrils. The smell made her sick and she vomited, the gag in her mouth causing her to choke on her vomit. The sour taste made her rasp and choke more violently. Spittle oozed from her mouth. The movement stopped. Her head whirled as she was brought upright; a damp cold came to her buttocks. The blindfold was removed. A soft hand touched her face and she heard a whisper: “Do not scream and I’ll remove your gag. We are friends, not enemies.”
Adrina spat the chunks of the vomit from her mouth. She struggled to clasp a hand to her nose to shield her nostrils from the foul stench that surrounded her. She couldn’t move; her hands were still tied tightly. She started to scream and the gag quickly filled her mouth. The soft voice returned and whispered kind words that she half listened to.
The gag was removed again. Adrina did not attempt to scream. She considered the words of her captor, which sounded sincere. She doubted she could believe those around her were anything but enemies, but at least the gag was gone from her mouth. She spat more of the vomit from her mouth. She could inhale through her mouth now, and the gag was gone. The smell around her was horrible, like sewage.
She was lifted and placed back onto the firm shoulder. They had not gone far when they stopped once more. Adrina could hear many voices whispering in hushed tones. One voice stood out from all the others, stronger, firmer, commanding. It was this voice that Adrina sought to key in on, to hear the words the man spoke. She heard bits and pieces of his words and from those pieces she gathered that the group was splitting up and was to regroup outside the city. She thought of escape.
They began to walk again. The splashing of water led Adrina to conclude that they must be in the sewers. It was the only place where she had ever smelled this repugnant odor. The slow, trudging march through the thick waters lasted for what seemed hours. The stench in this sector was magnified by the dank waters around them. Even the strong-hearted among the mysterious figures that held her hacked and coughed, breathing harshly in the putrid aroma of the deteriorating sludge, the waste that had been spewed from the immense city far above.
Long tunnels stretched from the ceiling above. Some spewed more putrid bilge, which landed in sputters and splashes. Others lay dormant, constructed long ago to filter natural lighting and fresh air into the dank tunnels; however, only meager puffs of fresh air found their way into these depths today. Torchlight guided their way, sometimes reflecting its amber hue in the dark stone walls about them. At certain places along this route, dark shapes slithered in and out of the muck, becoming increasingly frequent as the mysterious figures led her deeper into the heart of the sewers.
The sludge, which had become knee deep, began to recede slowly. Adrina only knew its depth because as she clung fearfully to the figure that carried her, her long flowing hair was no longer dragging through the slime. She relaxed her neck, clinging less to the broad-backed figure. The splashing subsided as they reached a dry section of the tunnel. Adrina sighed as they stopped and she was again brought upright. Thinking this was her chance to flee, she tried to run, but only made it a few steps before heavy hands found her.
Tears were in her eyes, her hair still dripped. She felt it though she did not see it. Shivers traveled down her back as she felt things moving through her hair. She let loose a wailing scream that seemed to vibrate in the tunnels until a heavy, cuffed hand gripped her mouth and cut the scream short.
A strong, deep voice told her, “I shall release your bonds. Do not scream, and do not try to escape. We do not wish to harm you.”
Adrina started to scream in response but bit her tongue instead. She desperately wanted the bonds to be removed from her wrists. Her arms were numb and her hands sore. The bonds were released from her hands and feet, but the blindfold was returned to her eyes. She was told not to remove it or the restraints would be returned.
She wondered what was happening. She relaxed her sore muscles and rubbed her bruised wrists, snapping her hands immediately afterwards to her hair. Hands grabbed her by the forearms as she did this, pulling her somewhat harshly. Her immediate reaction was to pull away as her arms were being bent back, but the hand was soft although strong, and Adrina wasn’t afraid.
“Oh, does this hurt?” said another, touching Adrina’s rope-burned wrists. Adrina had barely perceived the pain in her wrists while she was struggling, but now she felt it severely.
A tingling sensation ran through her hands and fingers; suddenly the pain dissipated and then was gone.
“There, now,” whispered the soft voice. “See, we are friends.”
Adrina thought she recognized the voice. It was a voice from the past, but it could not be the voice of the one she was thinking of.
“I will remove your blindfold only if you promise that you will not try to run. There is nowhere to flee down here and you will only hurt yourself if you flee. And we do not mean to harm you,” spoke the strong voice.
Fingers returned to her messy, wet hair. “Here let me smooth this out for you,” said the soft voice.
The blindfold was again removed. The torches had been extinguished and only the dull filtered light, eerie and off-yellow, came into the odd circular chamber. The light hurt her eyes and it took quite some time fo
r them to adjust to it. When they did, she was startled beyond compare.
Chapter Four
Chancellor Yi looked with agony into the flames, absently stroking the long line of his mount’s mane from the head down to the withers to settle it as much as himself. His eyes shifted slightly to the right to Lord Serant and he hung his head in shame. He had been so stupid. He should have been more vigilant and seen what was coming; then he could have prevented the barbaric scene he had witnessed only moments ago, a scene he knew took place beyond his obscured view.
The sound of a multitude of horses thundering into the square drowned out all other sounds. Screams erupted from the black-hearted warriors. The clash of steel and the crunch of bone and armor beneath hooves were heard once more. The city garrison, in full force, had finally arrived. Chancellor Yi raised his head slightly higher. He had hope again.
Though engulfed horrifically in the orange-red flames, a dark warrior came bursting into their circle. Despite the fire surrounding him, he continued his forward lunge; his sword lashed out over and over, wildly, without direction. Lord Serant swiftly threw a dagger into him, which landed in the man’s chest with a hefty thud. Disappearing within the flames, the man collapsed to the ground and died, shuddering from one last spasm before he went. The putrid scent of burning flesh spread quickly and soon permeated the air about those waiting for a chance at freedom or maybe even death.
In desperation the dark warriors were attempting anything to attain their goal. Their escape route was cut off, so now only death remained. They were not afraid to die. They were dying for a cause, their cause. They were the chosen; they must breach the flames. Using the dead and the dying as shields, they attempted to break through the flames with the capacity to fight. Several made it through, only to be hacked down immediately by Lord Serant’s determined blade. Not discouraged by failure, in surges they poured into the flames, still bearing the dead and the wounded before them.
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