The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King

by Michael R. Miller

  “Would you like to dance?” Balack asked. Eve seemed to be a bit taken aback but responded fairly enthusiastically.

  “Sure, why not!”

  Balack seemed a little put out by her choice of words but took her hand all the same. The pair drifted off into the swirling mass of bodies in motion, dancing to the pitchy tones of instruments that sounded as though they needed to be replaced long before the demons had come.

  Darnuir heard a huntress in her thirties calling out the instructions for the next dance, which seemed to involve a lot of switching partners and ducking under other people’s arms. As with all the dances Darnuir had been to, it was full of folly.

  Although he enjoyed watching the dance, Darnuir was not left on his own for long. Cosmo and Garon quickly took up the empty seats, whilst Harris dragged an extra chair over for himself. Cosmo looked the most battered of the three; his black hair was matted and a bloody bandage covered his upper arm. Yet he seemed strangely sober tonight, of all nights, unlike Garon, whose eyes were bloodshot and whose balance was less than graceful. Harris had always been distinctive in these parts for his extremely light red hair, which flowed down behind his ears. He had a crumpled nose from a boyhood fight with Darnuir but wore it proudly, and his high cheekbones emphasised his rather pointy chin. He too sported a bandage around his brow.

  “You got off lucky there, Harris,” Darnuir said, already tipsy. “A fraction lower and it would have,” he hiccupped, “had your eye out.”

  “Well I’ve never been much of a marksman anyway,” Harris jovially replied. “Always preferred a sword in my hand. Bit like yourself, Darnuir, although you aren’t a bad shot of course.”

  “I’m nothing on Balack,” Darnuir said.

  “Few are,” Cosmo chipped in. “I’ve never seen anyone as gifted as him. Give that boy a bow and I’d swear he was using magic!”

  “We’re not boys anymore, Cosmo,” Harris interjected. Harris was originally from Farlen, and was the same age as Darnuir and Balack.

  “Maybe not, but you will always just be boys to us,” Garon slurred. “Damned but this ale is poor,” he added dejectedly, setting his drink down, his mouth twisting in revulsion. “Tastes like Dranus himself spat in it.”

  “It seems fine to me,” Darnuir said.

  “Well you barely drink the stuff,” Garon jibed. “You don’t know any better.”

  “I like it!” Harris said. “But maybe that is because it is likely my last.”

  “How light-hearted of you, Harris,” Darnuir said dryly, but he could not help but agree. This entire event was salted by reality.

  “Well, I have hope boys,” Cosmo told them.

  “It is your birthday soon, isn’t it, Darnuir?” Garon asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with it?” Darnuir said, a little bemused.

  “Normally that is a good day,” Garon told him. “The day we found you, we had just won a victory over the demons. I reckon this next one will be the most interesting of all.”

  “Garon!” Cosmo said sternly. “I think you’ve had enough.” He removed Garon’s drink from his clutches, who gave it a look of deep longing. “I think we will leave the rest to you two.” And he handed both his and Garon’s confiscated cup to Darnuir and Harris. The two senior hunters departed and Harris and Darnuir began exchanging stories from the last few months.

  Several hours, and many drinks later, Eve was tugging at Darnuir’s arm with an impressive strength. “Come on,” she moaned. “Just one dance?”

  “Go on, Darnuir!” Balack hiccupped as he swayed uneasily on his feet.

  “Hmmm, what?” Darnuir mumbled, his head positively swimming. Eve led him off and what happened next was something of a blur. Darnuir spoke to people, but did not remember what they said. He moved to one side of the room and then the other, but did not know why. Had he been aware of his jostling on the dance floor, he would have been mortified. Eve seemed to be always there however. It was all he could do to recognise her. She propped herself up on her toes to shout something into his ear but the din of the room drowned her out. He just nodded and smiled obtusely in his ignorance.

  She drew back from his ear but remained on her toes; her face was now close to his. Too close, was all he could think. She is too close. Their lips met and then she grabbed him by the hand and hauled him off out of the main hall. He didn’t even recognise where he was going but, before long, she had found an empty room and shoved him inside it. It was evident from her walk that she wasn’t all there either. The room was far colder than the hall had been, rammed as it was with so many people. The drop in temperature and the freezing air from the window bit at Darnuir’s face. Quite quickly, his senses became keener, though his head was still very hazy. Eve dashed to close the shutters of the windows. When she turned to face him, a lifetime’s worth of yearning was written in her expression.

  Darnuir knew that this wasn’t right. Every fibre of his being urged him to leave the room, save for one minute and treacherous part of him that seemed determined to stay; as he moved one foot backwards, the other remained rooted to the floor. Eve drew even closer to him. Too close. She is far too close.

  “I’m cold,” she whispered, putting her arms around his neck.

  Darnuir was speechless. His brain could not work fast enough and he swallowed nervously. As he forced his protesting feet backwards, she remained anchored to him and they stumbled right into the door. Darnuir sternly kept his eyes away from hers and, with his free hand, the other propping her up, he grasped in vain for the handle. He struggled to find it and then her own hand fell delicately on his and pulled it away. To his dismay, he found his hand did not resist.

  “Do you want to leave?” she asked, her lips now finding his neck.

  He wanted to blame it all on the playful poison that now ran through him, that small but powerful part of him that did not want to move. Eve seemed only marginally more sober than Darnuir, and it was plain that she was hanging onto him, in part, to prevent herself from sliding to the floor. His eyes accidentally fell upon hers and their gaze held just a fraction too long. Too close. She is far too close. Then that treacherous part of him asserted itself and their lips met again, and Eve’s grip on him tightened. They swayed first forward and then slammed back against the door, and Darnuir took both hands to embrace her. One of Eve’s hands still searched for something on the door and, after a few moments, Darnuir heard the loud click of the bolt being pushed into place.

  ***

  The next morning, everyone and everything was being moved from Ascent, higher in the range to Cold Point. Scythe had held a council meeting in which it was agreed that if Ascent was taken by the enemy then Cold Point would be left wide open with the hunters stuck uselessly in their station on the wrong side. It would be a three-day journey and the retreat was to take place in stages. Darnuir was in the same group as Balack when they left. They carried large packs on their back and behind were carts, carrying the vestiges of their supplies. They had maybe a month’s worth of food left.

  “You’ve been very quiet,” Balack said. “Are you alright?”

  Darnuir turned too fast and his blazing head thrummed horribly. He still felt unable to look directly at his friend. “Yes, I’m just suffering from last night is all.”

  “Hmmm,” Balack grumbled absentmindedly and didn’t ask anything more for some time.

  ***

  Darnuir half-expected Eve to greet them when they arrived in Cold Point, for she had been in one of the first groups to leave Ascent, but she did not come. The only welcoming they received was the familiar sight of the great wrought-iron gates of Cold Point, standing sentinel at the only entrance to the town. The gates showed signs of rust and neglect.

  I doubt they will not hold for long.

  Passing through this barrier, Darnuir noticed how crowded the town now was. Refugees had been fleeing there since the fall of Farlen two months ago but he had not appreciated the scale of the crowding. Cold Point was, after all
, much smaller than Ascent or Farlen, and there was precious space to spare, with the town being tightly wedged between two steep, jagged mountain slopes. The widest space was the square where the gnarled silver tree stood proudly, encircled by a waist-high stone wall. Darnuir and Balack walked towards the tree and were given instructions on where to place the gear and the supplies they were carrying. The civilians had clearly been forewarned of the hunters’ arrival, for they were out in force to direct the hunters.

  “Grain, two streets down and second on yer right!” one man called.

  “Clothes to the hunters’ lodge!”

  “Healers to the tavern!”

  It was all confusion and bustle. Darnuir and Balack separated to carry off their respective loads.

  What good will all this do when the demons arrive?

  ***

  It wasn’t until later the following evening when members of the last group began to trickle in. These first arrivals appeared exhausted. Cosmo was amongst the very last to reach the town.

  “What has happened?” Garon demanded, barely giving poor Cosmo a chance to catch his breath.

  “Cut off as we left,” Cosmo spluttered. “Demons came pouring in from the west gate. Scythe and about forty others were bringing up the rear. Everyone else had already left the town.” He stopped to lean on Garon. The others with him showed signs of great hardship as well. Some simply fell to their knees.

  “Did they not give pursuit?” Garon asked earnestly. “How were you able to make it here?”

  “Scythe and those in the rear guard spotted them. Scythe took action. He sent a few arrows at them and those with him followed suit. He didn’t shout orders at me, lest he give us away, but the look he gave was plain. ‘Go on’, it said. ‘We’ll buy you time.’ After ensuring attention was on them, they all stormed back the way we came, towards the station. We carried on as fast as we could and took no rest.”

  “So they are dead?” Balack asked, horrified.

  “Not necessarily,” Garon said. “If they made it to the station in time, they’ll be in a far better position than we will. It is made of sturdy stuff. The Captain and the rest might yet survive.”

  “It won’t be long before the demons arrive,” Cosmo said. “They might assault the station first, which would give us more time, or they may head straight here. Either way, we will have a few days at best.”

  All those gathered in the town centre were mournfully silent, and all hunter eyes turned to Cosmo, who was now their de facto, if reluctant, captain. The hunters of the Boreac Mountains were proud and defiant, but their time was running out now. No help seemed to be coming and there appeared no end to the enemy’s attack. There was nowhere left to retreat to; no more passages to barricade, no more secret pathways from which to harry their foes. They were trapped at the highest and most remote region in the human kingdom.

  Is this it? Has the end come?

  Chapter 7

  A WIZARD IS NEVER LATE…

  TWO DAYS HAD passed since Cosmo delivered his ominous news. Two days of worry. Two days of desperate planning, of hurriedly teaching the rudiments of swordplay to willing town’s folk. For Darnuir, it had also been two long days of avoidance and of guilt.

  In an effort to evade both Eve and Balack, he had volunteered for every task that needed doing. He had hauled logs from the mills to the square, helped lash them in stacks upon the roofs, gathered furniture, smashed up the furniture and heaped the pieces into high barricades. Once he had passed the point of initial weariness, he found he could keep going far longer than the others, and ignored Cosmo’s suggestions to turn in.

  Darnuir carefully climbed to the top of his barricade, hunched over more at a crawl, with one hand outstretched for support and the other clutching pieces of a dismantled chair. As he placed the last of the broken pieces on top of his barricade, he began to feel exhaustion creep in. Whatever fuelled him seemed to be running low as midnight drew closer.

  He stood atop his mighty furniture mound, one of many they had erected around the town square. Each one was at least two storeys high, and only the tavern and the lodge loomed taller. Hunters and huntresses lingered around the square, examining their efforts. Some were still precariously balanced on rooftops, trying to keep the logs in check; a task made ever more difficult by working solely by torchlight. The night was dark and the general mood of the hunters was darker. Only one route remained free for the demons now; the main avenue up from the town’s gate. It would be here in the square where they would make their stand.

  “Looking good, lad!” Griswald boomed.

  “Anything else to add?” Darnuir called back down.

  “Nah, not unless we’re gonnae start smashing up our beds,” Griswald said with a little shudder.

  “That is an excellent idea!” Cosmo called from another barricade.

  “Ach see here, Cosmo, I wis joking,” Griswald protested, waving one of his crutches around. “Some of us still need a decent place tae lie doon.”

  “We won’t use them all,” Cosmo assured him, trotting over. “Just those of us who are fit enough to go without.”

  “You can use mine,” Darnuir offered from his elevated position. “That is generous of you, Darnuir, but I was about to order you to go and use yours,” Cosmo said.

  “Order me?” Darnuir said. “I’d prefer to be useful.”

  “There isn’t much left to do,” Cosmo said. “Other people can stack the barricades. I’d rather have one of my best swordsmen rested for the fight. Griswald, you go rest as well. Tell Rufus he’s to come out and bring me another warm, spiced ale.”

  “Nae need to tell me twice,” Griswald said, hobbling off.

  “Honestly, Cosmo, I feel fine,” Darnuir lied.

  “Must I give an official order?” Cosmo said sternly. The father, the trainer and friend had gone. Cosmo the Captain was before him.

  All that spiced ale is likely adding an edge to his voice.

  A soft bell began to ring around the square. Old Whiteleaf, who ran the tavern, made his round, clanking his little brass instrument. It signalled midnight and the third day of their wait for the demons. When Whiteleaf’s bell fell silent, a blinding light emanated throughout the square. Darnuir cried out, shielding his eyes as it shone brighter. It seemed to come from the near the ancient gnarled tree, for the light reflected and magnified on the silver bark. As the glow died down, the outline of a man appeared. It was difficult for Darnuir to examine him at this distance but he wore long robes and held the largest walking stick he had ever seen. Instinctively, he reached for his sword. All around the square, the hunters drew back arrows, yelling out to each other that Castallan had emerged in their midst.

  “Stand down,” Cosmo roared. “Stand down! Now, I say!”

  Everyone slowly lowered their bows, looking confused. Cosmo snapped his head at Darnuir in a motion that indicated Darnuir was to join him. He picked his way down his barricade and hurried to Cosmo’s side. The man’s garments were a rich and vibrant blue. His hair was short and flecked throughout with grey, yet he did not seem to be much older than Cosmo. What unnerved Darnuir, however, was the man’s hand. It appeared burned, except it was as black as pitch oil and curled claw-like around the smooth silver wood. Clearly, it was no walking stick.

  “There is no need for that,” Cosmo said, waving Darnuir’s hand away from the hilt of his sword. “You have perfect timing, Brackendon,” he added, embracing the stranger in a fierce hug. His tone was happy, almost giddy. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come!”

  “I very nearly did not make it,” the stranger, Brackendon, said. “But here I am when Darnuir turns of age. And here he is, how convenient.” Brackendon peered quizzically around the square. “I suspect you are not refurbishing Cold Point?”

  “Demons will be upon us soon,” Cosmo said.

  “Demons?” the man said. “This far into the mountains? What—”

  “We’ve been under attack for months,” Cosmo interrupted. The robed ma
n looked around the square apprehensively. More of the hunters had started to approach, which made him uncomfortable.

  “Cosmo, my dear friend. Perhaps we could talk privately? It may be the wiser course? I can explain all.”

  “Fine, we’ll speak in private,” said Cosmo, “for all the good it will do. You’ve made quite an entrance and, in any case, they will all know soon enough.”

  “Yes, they shall.”

  Darnuir did not like the idea of Cosmo being alone with this man.

  “Shall I accompany you, sir?” he asked.

  Brackendon chuckled. “Darnuir, referring to someone else as sir. Well, you do have him well trained, Cosmo. And is that some stubble I can see as well?”

  “What does he mean?” Darnuir hissed, “And how do you know my name?”

  “Let us go inside,” Cosmo said, harassed. “And yes, Darnuir, do come, but I will not be needing your protection. Ah Rufus, there you are!” Cosmo looked greatly relieved as he went to take his mug of hot ale from Rufus’ outstretched hand. The thickset hunter was in a state of shock, having witnessed the wizard’s arrival. He seemed frozen in place. Cosmo did not seem to notice as he took a long sip of his drink. “Dranus, but that is better. Come along then,” he said, waving Darnuir and the wizard along. “Rufus, please see to it that the beds from the lodge are added to these piles.”