The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  The encircling Rykalite sheathed their blades and approached. Heart of Stone and his son came quickly to the Stranger and embraced him warmly. “Ten Cuts said you’d be coming in this direction,” said the Pure One.

  “By the Lodge of the Tree, I’m glad you’re here,” replied Marius. “Another day and we’d have reached the northern tree line.”

  Heart of Stone looked down at me, placed a hand on his chest, and bowed. “Is this the Eagle Prince?”

  “His name is Oliver of the Dawn Claw,” said Marius. “Prince Oliver, may I introduce you to a close friend? This is Heart of Stone, one of the wisest men I know.”

  “You’re a varn?” I asked, probably sounding like an idiot. “I thought you were all cruel sorcerers?”

  He pointed his hands at me and wiggled his fingers. “Do I not look like a cruel sorcerer?” he quipped. “Or do I need to make the trees dance for you?”

  “Don’t tease him,” said Marius. “Prince Oliver has had a rough few days. He should be a king by now.”

  I managed to stand. Taking some deep breaths, I did my best to shake off the head wound and the insult. It was only minor, more embarrassing than serious, doubly so as I had to greet twenty Pure Ones appearing like a big, groggy idiot. Though none of them were disrespectful. Quite the contrary. They distributed food and water, whilst sharing handshakes and hugs with Marius and the two Outrider Knights. They bowed to the rest of us, giving aid wherever it was needed, but not being intrusive. Despite their armour and weaponry, every action they took was slow and gentle, making even Rys Coldfire accept their help. They called him a Man of the Wolf, and the Winterlords were Men and Women of the Eagle. The Rykalite had no wyrd, but used potions and ointments to treat wounds and dull pain. They were skilled, and we were moving again within thirty minutes, heading west.

  “Hello, my old friend,” said the voice again, every few minutes. It became clearer and I felt warmth and kinship behind the words, as if whoever spoke and wherever he was, he was my friend… or he at least wanted to be. It was a disconcerting feeling, though not unpleasant.

  No one else heard it. Not the Rykalite, moving around us in a protective circle. Nor my companions, newly optimistic since we’d been found by Heart of Stone and his Pure Ones. Leofryc and Jack were almost relaxed as we were escorted west, though I didn’t tell them I was still hearing a voice. I was assisted in this by Jack’s tendency to fill the air with small talk. My attendant mused out loud on every subject, from the steel armour of the Rykalite, to the inscrutable wisdom of the Stranger. We now had ample food and water, and expected to reach a native settlement within the hour, but my mind felt heavy and troubled.

  “You will be a saviour. You will be king of a new world… and I will be at your side,” said the disembodied voice.

  Under different circumstances I’d be seeking aid, but the monotony of our march made it easy to hear only the word king. Something other than Leofryc was calling me a king. I didn’t know who it was, but the voice eventually fell into a soothing repetition of the only word that mattered.

  15

  I didn’t stop hearing the voice and the word king until a few hours had passed, and I realized I was walking alone, towards the front of our small column. As the word slowly faded, I found my head starting to ache, as if someone or something was trying to burrow into my mind.

  “Lost in thought?” asked Marius Cyclone, appearing silently next to me. “It’s understandable.”

  “I’m… I’m not sure,” I stuttered. “I know I’m not yet king, but everything else… friends and foes, gods and monsters.” I rubbed my eyes. “And you still haven’t answered my second question. If the world is going to end… to where can you flee? The void?”

  He made a low, grumbling sound, and looked me up and down. The Stranger had an ability to glare with his entire being, but it never felt hostile, as if it was just his body in its relaxed state. “I wanted to introduce you to some friends of mine before we talked about that,” he replied. “I find it easier to explain these things one at a time. But you’ve already met Quinn, so…” He paused, having to negotiate a tricky path between bramble bushes and pitted rock. “I told you my legions are on Nowhere, guarding something of great value. Well, they guard a doorway, called Utha’s Gate. It’s a stable bridge to a far realm.”

  “What kind of realm?” I asked.

  “I’ve only been there once,” replied Marius. “A beautiful place of green forests, crystal waters and high mountain peaks. It even has a sun. Enough room for each and every Eastron. Including the Winterlords, if they choose to come. Think of it, Oliver, we could start again… in peace. No parliament, no king…”

  “What?” I interrupted. “No, that’s not right, the Eastron will always need a man of the Dawn Claw. They will always need a king. Anything else is a world without reason.”

  The slightest of smiles crept across his face. “Indeed. The Eastron need everyone who will come with us. Though I hope you understand that royalty will not be the first thing we need in our new world. Monarchy is one of many forms of leadership, my friend… and perhaps not the one that best represents the good of the people.”

  “You’re wrong!” I snapped. “Things have changed, certainly, but the world must reorder itself. I must be king.”

  I frowned and scratched my head, suddenly assaulted by a sharp and insistent headache, made worse by the Stranger’s casual dismissal of my birthright and everything that made sense to me. He wasn’t being intentionally cruel. In fact, I believed he was trying to inspire me to join him and adopt his vision of a peaceful future, with no Waking God to oppress and destroy the Eastron. But… how could he see the world so? He was Eastron and his heart and mind should tell him that our people made no sense without a king. He should have lived his entire life believing it. My heart and mind could never be convinced otherwise. I was born to be king. I must be king. It was the right and proper way of the world and my mind rebelled against the Stranger’s words, as if I’d been told the sun no longer rose in the east. My confusion slowly turned to anger, as I realized there were people who thought nothing of my absolute right to lordship. I felt light-headed and coughed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “Are you unwell?” asked Marius.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” I replied.

  “Autumn, come over here,” said the Stranger, beckoning the young Pure One to join us. “I think the Eagle Prince needs a tonic.”

  The Rykalite called Autumn Rain reached inside a pouch at his waist and produced a small, glass vial. “This will help,” he said, gently.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, speeding up to get past the varn’s son.

  “Please,” said Autumn Rain, skipping forwards to catch up with me. “I can tell you are troubled. It is a gift of my family. We do not have your wyrd, but spirits talk to us in other ways.”

  “Trust him, Oliver,” said Marius, sauntering along behind. “He knows you’re important. King or not.”

  “Please, Eagle Prince, I am your friend.” He once again offered the glass vial. “It will not impede you; it is an old family potion, from long before the Invaders came.”

  I slowed, trying to regain my composure. “What does it do?”

  “It will turn wicked spirits,” replied Autumn Rain. “It also aids the digestion and prolongs the act of love… though that is of less importance currently.”

  I took the green glass vial and pinched open the stopper. I gave it a suspicious sniff, and instantly brightened at the sweet, fruity aroma. In my experience, medicine was unfailingly revolting, on the nostrils and the palate. Alaric Sees the Setting Sun had frequently prescribed a foul-tasting cough medicine during my youth. This was different. As I drank, I felt smooth, sweet liquid coat my mouth, and a sensation of warmth descend through my body. I nodded in thanks to Autumn Rain, and lengthened my stride a second time, to be clear of company.

  The potion did its work quickly, calming my thoughts and soothing my headache. The Rykalite Pure Ones were f
ull of surprises. Their use of steel, their bush-craft and healing skill. Not to mention how suspiciously nice they were being, or their reverence for the Stranger. I wasn’t as naive as many believed, and had always known that there was depth and sophistication in the world beyond my sight, but to see it so starkly, and so suddenly, was like a kick to the head. Actually, no, it was like a gentle caress against my temple. Autumn’s potion had cleared my mind, and let me think slowly again. I expected to have very efficient digestion for the next day or so.

  Around me, the Wood of Webs was thinning out. We were somewhere in the middle, but rocky ground and a lattice of narrow streams had opened the canopy and let in a bright blue sky. The Rykalite moved around us, visible one moment, obscured the next, but always watchful. They moved skilfully at the pace of our slowest member, Elizabeth Defiant. The only one of our group, not easily seen, was Straya. She’d gone a little way ahead, across a wide, rocky ford in the closest river. A little way to the south, I could hear water churning, and see the spray of rapids. We were crossing one of the many tributaries, rushing towards the Great Serpent.

  Everything smelled fresh and organic, until an acrid scent reached my nostrils. The air pressure seemed to change, and a steady breeze began from the west. I raised my head, as small particles of ash wafted past my face. The bitter smell of smoke began to fill the air. From the front of our group, Marius and Toro had stopped, crouching by a rocky outcropping, halfway across the ford. The Rykalite moved closer, forming a protective circle around the rest of us. It was a little unnecessary, now that Jack, Leofryc and I were all perfectly capable of defending ourselves. Even Rys Coldfire was approaching his full strength, though the Sea Wolf duellist had not yet requested a blade.

  Straya returned from the trees and joined her fellow Brethren. Concern and anger were conveyed between them, until Marius turned and signalled for the Winterlords to approach. He then nodded to Heart of Stone, indicating that the Pure Ones should stay back. The three of us edged across the ford, sloshing through fast-running water to join the Stranger. The Wolf’s Bastard was with us, leaving Elizabeth Defiant in the care of Autumn Rain.

  “What burns?” I asked, crouching behind an irregular wall of rock, as more grey flecks of ash drifted past us.

  “A village,” replied Straya. “I only glimpsed it, but void legionnaires have cleared the settlement.”

  “The ninth,” said Marius. “From Ghost Fort. The tenth couldn’t find us, so this lot got in front of us. We’ll have to leave the Rykalite here.”

  “How many legionnaires?” asked Leofryc.

  Before anyone could answer, Rys Coldfire marched forwards, across the ford to the thinly spaced trees beyond. He’d not discarded his leather armour, despite the numerous cuts, punctures and slashes across its surface, and he was unarmed, but he strode across the ford with absolute certainty.

  Marius shook his head and grunted. “Sea Wolves… they make me weary.”

  We stood in unison, three Winterlords and three Dark Brethren, and followed the Wolf’s Bastard into the trees.

  “There will be at least thirty void legionnaires,” said Straya. “Enough to clear a village. They will have killed everyone, and put it to the torch.”

  “So, what are we doing?” barked Silver Jack. “Are we fighting, are we scouting, are we running away? What the fuck are we doing?”

  He vocalized what most of us were thinking. The Sea Wolf had been impulsive, but he’d forced us to act as one, as if instinct had taken over. Leofryc wielded his greatsword, and the rest of us drew Brethren blades, but no one was in charge, no order had been given, and our goal was unclear. Two Outrider Knights, two duellists of First Port, a prince and the Stranger – perhaps a stronger group of six Eastron had never been assembled, but we scurried after the Sea Wolf, as if none of us knew what was about to happen.

  We left the Pure Ones and the ford behind, and re-entered the forest. The trees were thin here, with only a small layer of leaf litter across the grass. The air was getting thicker with ash particles, and the smell of burning was now acute. The six of us spread out, advancing slowly behind the Wolf’s Bastard.

  “He doesn’t have a sword,” muttered Silver Jack, walking alongside me. “What’s he going to do, headbutt them?”

  “Shush now,” said Leofryc. “Something up ahead.”

  The Sea Wolf pulled himself past the last few trees, and stopped. Those of us behind him did the same, as charred, black structures came into view. The Pure One settlement had been of significant size, though only a shell remained. Circular buildings, with pointed roofs, still smouldered, throwing ash and smoke into the air. Left and right were burned fences and blackened livestock, with residual embers sizzling across each carcass. The air was thick and dusty, though the smell of smoke had been replaced with the distinctive aroma of death.

  Rys Coldfire pushed wyrd into his arms and shoulders, then walked into the smoking village. The rest of us followed, silently fanning out into the settlement. We could all hear the distant sound of steel-clad warriors moving, and the low murmur of voices. Marius held a finger to his lips to indicate silence, and we edged towards the noises. The three Brethren summoned a moderate amount of wyrd, and I was reminded how different our wyrd-craft and training were. Winterlords were taught to use their spiritual power at the last moment, and only as necessary. Whereas both times I’d seen Rys use his, he’d barely held back, and the Outrider Knights were quick to prepare as soon as combat appeared likely. By contrast, Jack, Leofryc and I advanced towards a potential fight with no wyrd expended.

  The Wolf’s Bastard stopped walking in an open square that may previously have been the centre of village life. Now it was just an ash-filled space, framed by blackened buildings, with the smashed remains of a well in the middle. The rest of us stopped around the eastern edge of the square, well spread out. I couldn’t speak for the others, but I was transfixed by a line of charred corpses, tied to wooden posts, on the opposite side of the square. There were two dozen bodies, far too badly burned for identification, but the flag, flying overhead, spoke clearly as to who had killed them. Black canvas, and the fiendish eyes of a haughty owl.

  Rys Coldfire glanced back over his shoulder, looking at me and shaking his head. I didn’t know what he was trying to convey, but I thought it significant that he looked to me, rather than Marius or the two other Dark Brethren. “Once more for the Eastron, Prince Oliver,” said the Sea Wolf, marching across the square.

  “Cover him,” I ordered Leofryc and Jack.

  We followed, walking quickly past the burned bodies, with each of us screwing up our noses at the grotesque smell. It was acrid and stung my nostrils, until we moved upwind and the smell softened. Marius and the Outriders were slower to cover Rys, but they followed after a moment, as the sound of metal and voices got louder.

  “She said thirty,” offered Silver Jack. “Thirty void legionnaires.”

  “We killed more than that in the parliament,” said Leofryc.

  “They had less room to move,” I replied. “And they had a hundred other Winterlords to kill.”

  “He doesn’t appear concerned,” said the commander of Falcon’s Watch, pointing his greatsword at the Wolf’s Bastard.

  “He’s an impulsive idiot, with no weapons,” countered Jack. “Maybe he just wants to die. Maybe an obscure Sea Wolf honour ritual. He lost Lagertha Blood and can’t live with himself.” He knew he wasn’t going to turn us around, but, as with his previous insistence that we flee the Silver Dawn, I thought he was merely trying to be my voice of reason.

  “Onwards,” I ordered, stopping any further chat.

  We followed Rys Coldfire between the remnants of two large buildings, still circular, but far taller than the other structures. Beyond, occupying a large, open field, still green and unburned, were a mob of Dark Brethren. They’d posted no guards, and erected no defences, preferring instead just to slouch around cook-fires, with their spears and shields stowed in piles, and few of them wearing armour.
Another flag was flying overhead, depicting a smaller image of the Night Wing, with the number nine emblazoned over crossed spears. Strangely, the owl on their legion pennant had a putrid green circle, crowning behind its head.

  “Stand up!” boomed Rys Coldfire, coming to a stop in front of the void legionnaires. A few had seen him approach, but reacted with nothing but surprise, and the odd startled word. Now, each and every one looked at him.

  “I will kill you on your knees, or I will kill you on your feet,” roared the Sea Wolf, his wyrd pulsing and crackling across his shoulders, displacing any ash in the air.

  We emerged behind him, as did Marius and the Outriders. We held blades low, and spread out into a line behind the Wolf’s Bastard. He had no seniority, and far less knowledge than the Stranger, but none of us had conjured the will to question him. Even now, as he stood, unarmed, before thirty highly trained void legionnaires, I found myself feeling sorry for the ninth.

  Those who opposed us stood slowly, casting their eyes across the seven warriors who’d appeared from the burned village. A few officers might have known who we were, but most would just have been told that they were burning a Rykalite settlement. These men had not been at the Silver Dawn, and were likely from the Open Hand.

  “Good afternoon,” said Marius, approaching over Rys’s left shoulder. “I’m Marius Cyclone, called the Stranger, and you should probably surrender. I may even let you return to my brother.”

  The Wolf’s Bastard sneered, and glared at Marius. “Fuck that,” he said, before turning and running at the void legionnaires.

  “To arms!” I commanded, summoning a thick layer of glittering wyrd into my arms and across my chest.

  Leofryc and Jack conjured their own formidable strength and followed me, launching a frontal attack at thirty void legionnaires. I wasn’t afraid, or even worried. I was calm and focused, like a good duellist should be when attacking. I was at full strength, and eager to achieve some kind of victory, no matter how small. And I knew that Marius, Straya and Toro would be forced to join us.