Two blades sank deep, piercing cleanly through, reaching outward, as Lord Fantyu fell upon the other. A trickle of blood pouring from his mouth spoke of his demise, but the smile held to his lips as he looked into the eyes of the one who lay beneath him. His aim had been true. He breathed in his last breath.
A tear fell from Midori, rolling crystalline down her cheek. She knew without a doubt that Lord Fantyu had passed. The remorse on her face was quickly banished, as she immediately moved to re-engage. She had paused only an instant to say a prayer to the Mother and to the Father. She hoped they would still hear her words even if their will did not walk through her.
Both Geoffrey’s and the captain’s minds were jolted with a burst of speed and anxiety. They had seen Lord Fantyu fall; similar thoughts moved through their minds. The military mind within them carefully tallied the odds: now they only numbered four.
Midori raised her voice to a pitched, venomous screech, the effects of which were not lost on those around her. Even the most stalwart of figures cringed as the sound pierced their ears. Steadfast, Midori turned the instant’s hesitation into an advantage as she lunged. Daggers level, she descended upon her prey, evil justice in her eyes.
King Jarom stood and turned to face Midori. “Kill her!” he shouted to his henchmen, “Kill her now!” Jarom feared those of the Mother as much as he feared the dark priests, both of which had their uses at the proper time. But now was not the proper time, and he had no use for their sort. He would have his fun with the priests they had captured.
He chuckled as he watched his men turn with new vigor. The attack was taking longer than he had planned, but he liked its progression thus far. In a short while, the kingdom, all its subjects and domains, would be his. He would make sure there were no heirs, apparent or otherwise; even now his servants sought out all those of royal lineage.
“Finish this. I grow weary!” he barked at his remaining bodyguards save two, which he motioned should stay. Afterwards he also sent his captain to urge those following Lord Serant and Princess Calyin. King Jarom smiled and turned to the other kings. All save one were calm. “Do not fear, King William, I hold no grudges.”
King Jarom smiled as he walked over and patted King William on the back. “All is forgotten,” said Jarom as he lifted his jeweled stiletto from its sheath. King Jarom fiddled with the blade in his hand while he stood behind King William. He watched as William thumped his fingers against the tabletop. William lurched in his seat as Jarom placed his hands back onto William’s shoulder. William sighed in relief and his heartbeat returned to normal.
Catrin spun around and clipped the arm of her opponent, her blade visibly raking into his leathered armor. The man’s blade fell to the ground as the tendons in his hand were severed. A gasp of pain came from his mouth. Catrin was quick to follow through with a second slice to the jugular, ending the dispute.
Geoffrey signaled a series of short, defensive retreats so the four could better handle the additional onslaught, which, when coupled with those streaming in from the hall, was utterly overwhelming. It took concerted effort just to make the retreat effective. His eyes sought out a place in the room, which offered little maneuvering; his only hopes were to draw out their demise.
Captain Brodst began kicking chairs at those who covered their retreat, carefully making sure to maintain his balance as he dropped back over the body-strewn floor. As he had a few seconds to think, he reflected that he did not regret his life; he had lived fully. He hoped with all his heart that the lord and the princess had found escape.
Catrin staggered backwards as she slipped across the floor. One of her daggers fell from her grasp and bumped across the floor. She was quick to recover and turned in wild retreat, striving to catch up to the others. As she turned, she caught a blade mid-shoulder, which stunned her to her knees. Her hand stretched out, but no one could help her now; she was beyond them.
Midori stopped cold, and whipped the blade in her hand around to feel the tip between her fingers. She scoffed as she withdrew her hand, and flung it at the warrior who stood so gallant retracting his blade from his victim. The blade caught him clean, low on his neck, just above his armored collar.
The three withdrew all the way to the farthest reaches of the room, fighting their way up the raised platforms, up the rows of benches, to where they did not know. All options suddenly came to a halt as they reached the far wall; there was no place left to go. Geoffrey grimaced as he realized that he had backed into the wall.
“Till the end!” he shouted, as he threw his blade aside. He reached his hands out wide, ready to embrace all those that came near. He hurled himself downward, putting all his strength into the vault, and adding all his weight to the force. As he slammed head first into the closest two, they sent a shock wave rippling down to the last bench, knocking them down along with all in their path.
The waning light suddenly gave way as the last rays of light disappeared with the sun beyond the horizon. The room fell to darkness and shadows, as the glare from the windows above faded with the light. A loud ruckus broke to a roar, immediately following.
“Till the end!” shouted Geoffrey, as he lifted himself up off the floor, bringing his fists into contact with anything available. He flailed wildly about himself, hitting anything and everything around him. A brawl broke out around him, and as none could see in the darkness, no one knew who was hitting whom.
“Get them! Kill them!” shouted Jarom, infuriated. He moved close to the two guards beside him, quickly groping his way back to a chair, and a feeling of relative safety. His curses grew above the noise of the fighting, inciting anger into the minds of those who listened. His voice raised, ranting and raving louder, demanding torches be brought in at once, threatening all who failed him with immediate punishment.
Minutes later, the first torches were carried in from the adjacent halls. King William smirked at the collapse of Jarom’s bravado, which even in the shadows was garish. King Jarom was quick to plant the apex of his stiletto dead center between William’s eyes, sending him reeling backwards, flailing his arms, dead as he dropped.
Geoffrey had edged his way out of the fight, under the cover of darkness, moving skillfully on his hands and knees. As the torchlight brought sight to those around him, he was caught. He poised his eyes pleading up to the heavens, raising his hands, and shrugging his shoulders.
“Not this day!” he yelled to Jarom as he leaped to his feet and up to the captain and Midori, who had been standing at the ready, waiting in the darkness for whatever came their way. Geoffrey clasped his hands together, “Up you go!” he indicated to Midori.
“Where?”
“Hurry, put your foot into my hands. Don’t ask questions. Just do it.”
The puzzled look on Captain Brodst’s face vanished as realization hit him. His countenance changed to an expression that said, “Are you kidding?” But he was quick to assist Midori up to the sill. Afterwards, he stood motionless for a heartbeat. His eyes moved to those that were only seconds away from them. Captain Brodst interlaced his fingers and said, “Go!”
Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders, “No. Set your blade there, and be quick about it!” Geoffrey had snapped it at the captain like an order, to which Captain Brodst was quick to respond, not because he wanted to, but on impulse.
“But where do we go from there?” asked Captain Brodst, as Geoffrey boosted him up. As Captain Brodst moved upward, clenching his fingers against the wall, pulling himself also upward, his face reflected his confusion. His face also reflected his gratitude.
“The choice is yours!” shouted Geoffrey in response, as he grasped the captain’s sword.
Chapter Eight
The city of Zashchita lay only days ahead of them at the far edge of the forest; in retrospect, it seemed to be cut out of the forest. A few leagues away from its lookouts, the forest began anew. Noman knew this, as he knew the sun would rise in the morning. Vast ranges of forests cut across the face of the territories—too much�
��thought Noman. He looked forward to the time when they would reach the sea and cool, coastal breezes.
The humidity in the forest seeped into his skin and his soul. He breathed in the moisture from the air around him. Three days of rain filtering through the trees had set all in gloomy moods except Adrina. It wasn’t because she rode inside the carriage, which was dry, but because the rain brought fond memories. She liked the slight feeling of sadness the raindrops gave her; in an odd sort of way, the sadness actually lifted her spirits.
Adrina thought about the words Noman spoke to her when they stopped. She dwelled upon them. A pain in her stomach caused her to wince, and she leaned her head out the carriage. The fresh air against her face made her feel better, but the queasiness still did not go away. After she got rid of her lunch, her stomach settled down, at least temporarily. Her hands swept down to the mark upon her belly. “Tnavres,” she said quietly to herself, “Tell your master, I will never do what he asks.”
The carriage jolted to a sudden halt, and Noman jumped down from its seat, as did Xith. In front of them, Amir and Nijal also dismounted. Storms had knocked down a group of trees that blocked the road before them. Noman quickly calculated the options; the forest was too thickly overgrown with underbrush to move around the trees, especially for the coach. The choice remaining was the obvious one, move the trees, which would not be an easy task.
Amir yelled to Shchander and his men to move up from the rear and assist, but by the time he yelled, they were already coming. Hours of toil and sweat later, their combined might moved the first tree a few feet. Amir looked to Noman in frustration but would not give up.
He scratched his head and told the others to put their backs into it this time. On his mark they began again, grunting and groaning as the eleven of them strained beneath the tree’s weight, which was going nowhere. Nijal stopped and stripped down his gear, as if it would help, as did the others. “Again,” signaled Amir.
Sweat pouring down his face, but with no lessening of determination, Amir called them to a halt minutes later. As he slumped down, spent, the others also rested. After a brief respite, he stood and slapped his hands together, spit into them, and rubbed them together again.
Anger was evident on his face as he motioned for them to give it another try. The others followed without hesitation or complaint, putting every last ounce of their strength into one last attempt. Success lighted Amir’s face as they moved the tree from the ground, albeit only inches; slowly they walked it back. They had moved it about a foot when it became clear it was stuck and wasn’t going to budge anymore.
Xith and Noman called them to a stop. They decided that they would try magic to levitate the carriage across, as opposed to wasting the entire day trying to move the trees. “Unhook the team,” called out Noman. Adrina stepped out of the wagon to watch the spectacle.
Xith looked to Noman. Both had hoped to avoid the use of magic or its forms for as long as possible as much as possible. It might give away their position, a thing they did not want to happen, especially if the enemy did not know where they were. He slowly began building energy within himself, taking it in from the energies around him. Odd, he thought to himself, the energy wasn’t as strong here as he would have expected.
Amir looked amused as he watched Xith struggle to gather the power within him. He watched and thought about the problem and came up with a new solution. He signaled to Nijal and pointed to the carriage. Shchander hesitated, but his men joined in without him. Amir and Nijal picked up the rear of the wagon while the other eight lifted the midsection and the front. They squatted and lifted in unison, surprised at how light it seemed compared to the tree.
With a few groans and grunts, they made it over the barrier of trees and placed the coach on the opposite side. Noman was quick to laugh at the simple resolution of the dilemma, but also quick to stop Xith from drawing in any more energy. Xith stopped, looked, and took a second look before he realized what had occurred, but he was also quick to grin in relief that the obstacle had been overcome.
In a short while, and after a short rest, they were moving along the trail again; thoughts of the rain, the humidity, and Zashchita, were for the moment forgotten. Shchander and Nijal broke into light conversation about their home city of Solntse, and the grudge between them also lifted. Nijal insisted that Shchander retain the title of captain. Nijal was fairly settled on the fact that he was not ready to return to Solntse any time soon to regain his office; and if Nijal had his way, Shchander would return to Solntse once they safely reached Krepost’ on the edge of Statter’s Bay.
Noman was perplexed. Concern played heavily on his face as they rode on, bringing a furrow to his brow. It was something Xith had said to him just as they had departed that had sparked the consternation. His fears caused him to lose track of everything around him as he turned inward. There was a presence in the farthest reaches of his thoughts that he could not grasp.
A shadow passed over the sky above unnoticed. Xith rode in the coachman’s seat beside Noman, still a little miffed at the proceedings. Xith fiddled nervously with his fingers, the touch of them against each other was wrong.
A breeze, albeit slight, began to stir, moving through the trees with a whisper. Subtly, the temperature began to change, and the air around them became cooler as the humidity dissipated. Noman and Xith were not the only ones fidgety; the oddities around them played on Amir’s senses, made more perceptive by his blindness.
Adrina drew in a quiet breath; the sudden coolness brought on drowsiness. She watched the trees pass with their leaves of green, brown, and gold. Her eyes grew heavier and her breathing slowed, and then she drifted off to a light slumber. Her thoughts were mostly pleasant as she shifted to a deeper, peaceful sleep.
The trail became dense and twisted; large overgrown patches were in rich abundance. Thick shadows formed beneath the trees and as they moved deeper into the shadows the light of day slowly faded. The trees around them spoke of ancient times; their forms grew as thick and tangled as the path.
The harbinger of night fell quickly upon them although it was far from dusk. They found themselves huddling closer together. Even Adrina, who was sleeping soundly now, suddenly felt solitude, a great separation between her and the world around her. Spontaneous reactions brought many hands to the hilts of weapons held yet in their scabbards.
They waited with bated breath, fingers playing restlessly against hardened metal, minds filled with images of looming horrors. Gloom sank into their souls, creating specters in the trees. Without realizing it, they slowed to a lethargic, careful pace.
Minutes became hours as the seconds ticked past, a heart beat at a time, a breath at a time. Every sound caught the ears of the listeners—a trodden stick, a moving branch, the breeze rustling through the trees. Nervous eyes darted from side to side in anticipation.
Shchander motioned for his companions to split up and ride alongside the carriage, four to a side, while he went to the front. He cast his eyes towards Noman and Xith, shrugging his shoulders. He wanted to ask, “What is it? What is wrong?” for surely they must know the answer, he thought, yet his mind told him not to break the silence.
Xith returned Shchander’s gesture—he did not know. Something weighed heavily upon him although he could not touch it. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his palms with his thumbs. The minute spark of energy created as he did so trickled across his thumbnails.
Ahead, the growth around them grew sparse, but the darkness did not dissipate. It loomed around them, clinging to their souls. A clear disjoining lay ahead and as they passed it, the shadows seemed to lift. Then as suddenly as they had come, the dark clouds overhead scattered.
“Help me! Somebody, please help me!” screamed Adrina. Her body was fixed with convulsions, “Help me!” she whimpered.
The coach came to a sudden halt, and Adrina was jolted backwards into the padded seats. She lay there trembling, afraid to move. “Make them go away!” she yelled. “Make them go away!”
> Two large figures unfurled the doors to the carriage and leaped inside. They stared blankly at one another. The coach contained no one save them and Adrina. “Princess, there is nothing here. You are alone.”
“No, they are here!” she cried, her eyes pleading with them to listen to her.
“Adrina, are you unwell?” yelled a familiar voice.
“Xith, please send them away! Make them leave!”
“Please,” said Xith, “leave her alone.” Xith indicated that the others should leave and he took Adrina’s hand and led her outside. “What is it, dear?” he asked sympathetically.
“Please send them away. Make them go!”
“Them?” asked Xith, pointing to the two who had just returned to their mounts.
“No, not them. They are there,” said Adrina, pointing to the inside of the carriage.
Xith peered into the interior of the coach, “There is no one there. It is empty.”
“No,” cried Adrina bursting into tears. “They came for me. They want me to go with them.”
Xith was confused and worried. He glanced at Noman, subtly asking, “Is there something there?” Noman stepped down from the buckboard, and inspected the carriage. Afterwards, he shook his head negatively. He saw nothing. “You must have been dreaming, my dear. Everything is fine now, I assure you.”
“No, it is not,” replied Adrina. “They have come for me because I won’t do what he asks.”
The way she said it sent chills down Xith’s spine. He looked to Noman again for assistance, then to Amir and finally Nijal. Nijal took Adrina’s hand and returned with her to the coach. As Nijal stepped into its confines, Adrina froze cold, her face fixed in a mask. “No,” she repeated. She would not step within.
“Adrina, I assure you there is nothing here,” said Nijal, sitting. Adrina held firm. Nijal stood and took her hand, pulling her inside. Adrina became hysterical. She started screaming and shouting frantically, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. “Please, no,” she said pitifully.
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