A Sea of Cinders

by Adam Bishop

  Darith’s face, already bloomed, became even redder. He knew better than to talk back to his king, but he felt his self-control slipping. Something other than being spotted by the King of Eagles was on his mind. The longer he kept it at bay, the worse his thoughts swirled.

  Dadro sat forward and studied the anger on Darith’s face. He could feel the heat of hatred resonating. “I’ve known you my whole life. For that, I am truly grateful. Both your honour and skill with a blade are undeniable. Traits any king would be proud to come by. But you’re also stubborn and fueled by anger, and I can’t help but think your anger has gotten the best of you, my friend … so what’s bothering you? What is it that’s finally bested Darith “The Bastard” Gollyeth?”

  “The fuckin’ pyromancer!” Darith roared. “I don’t trust him! You say you’ve known me your whole life—well you’ve only known him for two years, and you chose to leave him behind with that codger Raymund to protect your Kingdom!”

  Dadro swiftly stood up, slamming his fists down in front of him. The table shook and his dinner plate shattered on the ground, bringing Darith’s rant to a halt.

  “I love you, Darith. But don’t mistake our friendship for a means to speak above your rank! Half my army remains in Havelmir, along with my brother, who’s still alive thanks to Aleister. He may not be one of us, but he’s proven his loyalty on several occasions. He risked his life by travelling across the Shimmering Sea. He knew the risks when he left his home. I could have killed him. He brought no army; he barely brought himself. What does he have? He left everything ... everyone he ever knew … everyone he ever loved. He was a desperate man and he did all he could to prove his worth.”

  “Why would he do that? Is he some treacherous coward?” Darith asked.

  “Why did you wait so long to ask? You have despised him since he first arrived. All you needed was one look. You saw his brown skin and his strange clothes, and you made up your mind—you and everyone else in Havelmir! And do you think I just welcomed him with open arms? He sat in a cell being questioned for a week before I considered his words to be something more than empty promises.”

  Darith felt the fool. He shook the feeling away, but his lips remained tight-pressed.

  “Did you really think I’d welcome some foreigner into my court just like that?” Dadro continued. “Who do you think I am? Fucking Gregor of Stoneburg? I’m a Braxi—not some halfwit with a soft heart! Aleister offered me men, just as Hammond did. Only, his will take a little longer to get here, so he negotiated a solution … collateral, if you will.”

  “Malign Oil?” Darith asked.

  Dadro gave an approving nod and sat back down. His point made and his tirade placed, he directed himself now in a kinglier fashion. “The deciding factor in our victory against the Elves. Why do you think I asked you to join me that day in the Yard of the Guilty? I wanted the captain of my army to see the power that was offered to me.”

  Darith found it nearly impossible to argue such logic—yet he still wasn’t fully convinced.

  “You said he offered you men … what men? He deserted his people. He’s no king. And even if he was, why would anyone listen to him after what he did?”

  Dadro released a deep sigh. “Melderwin is under civil war, as it has been for the past thirty years. I’ve known this since I was a child. Raymund, or ‘that codger’ as you so disrespectfully referred to him, taught me everything there is to know about all the Kingdoms, families, sigils, and houses during my studies as a youth. I hated it, but my father insisted I know the history of the world if I was going to follow in his footsteps. It took quite some time. Eventually, I saw the benefits that came with knowing my true enemies. Can you imagine the power we could hold if we had not one, but thousands of pyromancers? Not to mention an entire island filled with an ever-replenishing source of Malign Oil, along with all the other rarities that the swamp-lands hold? Merchants have been risking their lives for hundreds of years sneaking in and out of Melderwin, just for a sack of plants. That island is a gold mine waiting to be pickaxed. If we can defeat the Elves in battle, a wounded race of armourless candle-wielders will be no threat. And if Aleister can convince his people to join me as promised, then the remaining Elven forests will burn sooner than expected.”

  The nagging voice of doubt in Darith had been momentarily silenced by his King’s words. Hearing the truth behind the curtain of decision in Dadro’s mind rekindled the faith he had lost in his King, but more importantly his friend.

  “You always were smarter than me,” Darith admitted. “It’s easy to forget, knowing you can kill a man just as easily as I can. Sometimes I forget that’s not all you’re good at.” Dadro seemed somewhat placated. Taking note of this, Darith decided to leave without any ill will between them.

  “I should get some sleep. We may have to prove what we have in common tomorrow.”

  ***

  The army was on the move before the sun had a chance to find its place above the clouds. King Dadro was not one for wasting time, especially on an expedition as brief as this. A meek argument played out in the back of his mind, but he refused to succumb to the possibility of making a wrong decision.

  I’ll need the extra men if I plan on attacking the Viridian Veil, he told himself. Darith wouldn’t take a liking to Hammond if he wasn’t a worthy ally. Hopefully his men will prove more useful than these other Ridglanders.

  “We're close now,” Darith said. “We’ll reach the Forks within the hour.”

  Dadro assessed the mountains ahead of them; their frozen peaks sat among the clouds kissed the clouds. “This road splits at the base of the mountains, then?” he asked. Dadro had never travelled to the northern corners of the Ridglands before. He was born an enemy of the Western Kingdoms, and being high-born left him no reason to ever visit the frigid Ridglands.

  Darith nodded. “Aye, the road splits at the base of the mountains, Your Grace.”

  “Right,” Dadro replied. “Ready the men. I won’t lose any to talon nor blade!” His gaze remained fixed on the frozen rock bed of mountains. The sight of two thousand new soldiers lingered in the unseen future of his frigid gaze. Where are you frozen bastards? he thought. Take me for a fool and I’ll burn your home to the ground.

  As the road bent, Dadro saw the Stoney Forks for the first time. A three-pronged separation of frozen ground split up between the bases of two ancient mountains.

  Darith signalled the Braxy army to a sudden halt. One last march of steel echoed out into the Stoney Forks, and an eerie silence followed. He rode up beside his King and they both peered down the three empty roads in front of them.

  “Where are they?” Dadro asked in a bitter tone.

  “They’ll be here,” Darith answered. “I wouldn’t vouch for the bastard if I didn’t trust him.”

  Dadro responded with a restless grunt. His patience grew thin in response to the brutal gusts of wind blowing down from the snowy peaks above. “This cold is relentless,” said Dadro. “It’s no wonder they wish to leave their home. A shortage of food is only half of their worries.” His beard was stiff and frozen as he spoke, like an icy patch of grass fighting the winds of winter.

  “There!” Darith pointed. A spearhead peeked out from around the bend. It was Hammond. He came trotting down from the Fork’s leftmost path. He was alone and grinning. His thick brown hair was dusted with white specks of snow making him look older than he was, and he wore several layers of fur which added to his size. He wasn’t a small man—far from it—yet the added furs made him seem Dadro’s equal.

  “The King who bested the Elves,” Hammond heralded as he approached, his grin breaking into a full smile. “A feat every man strives for but few can accomplish.”

  “Few? You mean one,” Dadro responded. “Hammond, is it? Darith tells me you wish to pledge allegiance to house Braxis.”

  “That I do … Your Grace,” Hammond said, bowing from his saddle.

  “Stohhhhhhhhne!,” Hammond shouted. An army of two thousand soldiers cam
e marching forth, fully armoured and in formation. “Me, along with the rest of Stoneburg,” he replied. “The women and children are awaiting confirmation back at the Stonefort. Is there enough room in Havelmir for us all?” he asked. “I know you’ve already taken in both the Kelts and the Foreguard.”

  “Havelmir was built to house more than six hundred thousand. Less than half that live in our Kingdom now.”

  “A home away from home then,” Hammond replied. “I’ll signal my men to fetch the others.” He grabbed a curved lur hanging off his belt and blew into it mightily. A loud howl sounded, singing its deep tone high and far into the frozen air.

  Dadro looked past Hammond to get a better look at the new addition to his army. It was then that he noticed something—or someone, was missing. “Where is Oskar?”

  Before Hammond could answer, a cluster of high pitch screeches came from the mountains above. An endless wave of eagles soared down like an avalanche of falling feathers.

  The next few seconds played out in slow motion for King Dadro and Darith. Although both had anticipated an attack from Talfryn, neither of them expected such a clever ambush.

  I should have known! Dadro thought as he peered up at the winged beasts. It was as if night had fallen—the eagles blotted out the sun. Just before he could reach for his war hammer, he felt an intense amount of pressure flooding his left shoulder.

  At first, he thought one of the giant eagles had dug its talons into him from behind. But then he looked down in front of him, and he saw that Hammond had thrust his spear under the shoulder plate of his armour. A burning rage fell over him. Time no longer lingered. He snatched the wooden base of the spear sticking out of him and snapped it in half with ease. Before he had a chance to retaliate, he was blinded by an explosion of blood. Darith had swung at Hammond, but he missed, instead decapitating Hammond's horse. Dadro wiped blood from his face and readied his weapon in both hands. He gripped his war hammer with such force, he felt his fingernails break through the skin of his palms.

  “Retreat!” Darith yelled. “Kelts, Forguard, prove your worth!” As captain of the Braxi army, Darith was in charge of the army’s plan of attack. His strategy was simple; if Talfryn decided to attack, the Braxi were to form a phalanx and retreat while defending against the eagles. At the same time, the Kelts and the Forguard were to charge forward, holding off all approaching men. It was a suicide tactic for the Ridglanders, but any who survived would be met with great respect and reward.

  “To the grove!” Dadro roared. “The grove!”

  He still felt no real pain from the spearhead protruding out of his left side. Shock and adrenalin had taken care of that. Now, he wanted more than anything to crush Hammond’s head into the frozen ground —but the traitor was nowhere to be found. He searched for the turncoat amongst the surrounding chaos, but something else caught his eye. Charging down the middle path of the Stoney Forks was King Richard, along with his army of Feathered Knights.

  Dadro then made sense of the baneful ambush. Not only had he been naive enough to believe that Stonburge would join him—he had overlooked the possibility of a joint ambush involving Talfryn.

  Time slipped away once again. He found himself watching the eradication of his men as it played out in a sadistic plodding of muted pain. The defensive wall made up of the Kelts and Forguard fought helplessly against an endless onslaught of steel and talons, while Richard and Hammond slowly made their way over the growing heap of dead men piling at their feet. It was war in its purest form.

  As the bodies piled high, the living charged on. Eagles snatched men off the ground and horseback like fish in a stream. Their screams grew distant as they rose, fading in the height of their last moments. One of the Braxi spearmen guarding the outer edge of the phalanx was lifted into the air and ripped in half by two eagles playing a game of tug a war.

  The carnage was unrelenting, but Dadro refused to acknowledge any idea of death. The weight of his war hammer grew familiar in his hands once again. His urge to kill came rushing back to him. The air-bending sound of an eagle rushed down towards him, but he spotted the feathered beast just before it could take him. He swung his hammer with great force and swatted the bird out of the air. Before the eagle had a chance to take flight once again, Dadro leapt from his horse and split the eagle’s head open with a powerful overhead swing.

  Now, in a blinding rage of blood and betrayal, Dadro charged forth. He sprinted at the dwindling wall of defense lining the entrance to the Stoney Forks. As he approached, a rogue horseman broke free from Talfryn’s cavalry in an attempt to run him down. Dadro ducked under his futile swing and sent him flying from the saddle with a crushing blow to the sternum. The now un-mounted soldier lay on the ground, winded and unable to breathe, with his breastplate caved in. Dadro gladly put him out of his suffocating misery with the spiked end of his war hammer.

  “Hammond!” Dadro bellowed out in a guttural growl. It was nearly impossible to make out anyone’s face through the frenzied wall of soldiers battling in front of him. He knew that—if he meant to kill the traitor—the only option he had was to push through the pit of steel and blood before him. He attached his war hammer to the leather strap on his back and pried a sword from the dead hands of a fallen soldier. Armed for close-quarter combat, he moved forward. The cold subsided as he pushed himself deeper into the defensive wall. He was shoulder to shoulder with combatants as he closed in. The putrid smell of death steamed at his feet.

  The chaotic clamour of his men disoriented him as he inched forward, but his eagerness to kill kept him going. It was driving him now, a man hungry for blood. He could make out the enemy soldiers ahead and began attacking wildly with blind overhead thrusts. Enemy swords and spears answered back, but it was impossible to tell where they were coming from. He was hindered by the bodies of his own men, dead and alive, and all he could see was the blur of sharpened steel swaying all around him.

  An enemy sword then stabbed through his right hand, causing him to drop his weapon. He let out a bitter roar and searched for his fallen blade, but it was lost beneath the tangled mess of armour and limbs below him. He then pulled out the broken spear from his left shoulder and pushed forward. Then he found himself face to face with a Feathered Knight of Talfryn, and he drove the spearhead through the man’s right eye. Another Knight of Talfryn came lunging at him from the right, but he quickly sidestepped and slashed the young knight’s throat before he had a chance to attack again.

  “Dadro! Dadro!” Came a voice behind the King. It was Darith. He came charging through the wall of men cutting down his own soldiers in search for his King. “Dadro we must leave. Leave, or you will die!” Darith urged. Dadro ignored his friend and continued searching for Hammond. Nevertheless, Darith refused to watch his King fall in such a manner. “I won’t let you die for my mistake! You’re coming with me!” Darith shouted. He jumped off his horse and tried to forced Dadro onto its saddle.

  “Let me go you fool! I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them both! Hammond must die. This is your fault, help me kill them!

  Despite his rage, Darith managed to overpower his King. “Ride you fool, ride! I have another horse outside the wall. I’ll be fine, go… GOOO!”

  Bloodied and battered, King Dadro reluctantly rode away from the fight.

  The pain of defeat and betrayal stung far worse than any of his battle wounds. Rage consumed him as he rode further away, like a constricting sensation eating at his every intention. He had never felt such anger before.

  ***

  King Richard sheathed his longsword and watched as Dadro and the Braxi army fled into the distance. He was pleased with the outcome of the battle, yet his heart still yearned for revenge.

  “Cease, everyone! We are victorious!” A loud cheer erupted from the soldiers of Talfryn.

  “Well fought, my friend,” Hammond said as he approached King Richard on horseback. “We took few losses in comparison.”

  Richard looked over the battlefield to judge how many of hi
s men had fallen. Their scaled armour made them easy to spot. Unlike Dadro’s men, Richard’s choice of armour favoured mobility over protection. He wore beautifully handcrafted lamellar armour passed down to him by his father, who had received it as a gift from the Elves many years ago. Aside from the small plates of leather and steel that formed his armour, his only other forms of protection were speed and skill. He carried no shield, and he despised wearing a helmet. “We merely killed those who betrayed us,” Richard replied. “Only but a handful of Braxi soldiers fell today. They will return, there’s no denying that. And when they do, we must be ready.”

  “Ready we are!” Hammond replied. “We defeated them once, we can do it again!”

  King Richard shook his head. “We had the element of surprise on our side. Also, that wasn’t Dadro’s entire army. It was but half of his men, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t have been able to defeat Rhan otherwise. We’ll need more men … we must ask the Svell Skegg’s for their help.”

  “The Svell Skegg’s?” Hammond questioned. “They won’t pay any mind to our problems. They haven’t set foot on our shores in over fifty years.”

  “What you say may be true. But our people once fought side by side many years ago. It’s time we kindled old alliances.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Golden Breast

  The novice travellers awoke with pressure from last night’s ales pounding against their heads. Although they felt the repercussions of drinking, they also no longer suffered from the sore bones that came with sleeping on stiff, unforgiving ground. Also, their stomachs were free from the relentless cries of hunger that came each morning.

  “Well, well. Look who’s finally decided to wake up,” Rhys said in a prodding tone. “I was beginning to think you’se was playin’ a trick on me. Even Viggo here was beginning to worry. I think he’s taken a liking to you there, Baldric. Don’t be alarmed if your face is a little damp. He’s a kisser, is all.”

  Baldric chuckled under his breath and wiped his face dry. “Oh, it’s alright. I’ve always seemed to have a way with dogs. I like them more than most people I meet, to be honest. They can probably just sense the fondness I have towards them.”