REMNANTS OF THE ORDER
Copyright © 2013 Hamish Spiers
All rights reserved
The right of Hamish Spiers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted to him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. With the exception of fair use for the purposes of criticism or review as permitted under copyright legislation, no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9923706-1-9
First published: 2013
This edition published: 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Remnants of the Order
PART I
I. Farewell to Ensildahir
II. Into the Mountains
III. Keld
IV. The Ulak
V. Ensari
VI. The Mages
VII. A Council of War
VIII. Berring’s Cove
IX. The Battle of Ensildahir
X. In the Land of Arahir
XI. The Palace of Bellasaire
XII. A Skirmish in the Woods
XIII. Dominicon
XIV. Solace
XV. Shaala
XVI. A Rainy Night
XVII. Farewell to Arahir, Farewell to Hellesa
XVIII. The Journey North
IXX. The Journey East
XX. Arvenreign
XXI. Lord Falk
XXII. The Turning of the Tide
XXIII. The Battle of Cirreone
PART II
I. The Northern Pioneers
II. Premonition
III. Wyvern’s Peak
IV. Bearers of Ill Tidings
V. The Demands
VI. Survival
VII. Flight
VIII. The Fall of the Greater Realms
IX. Khalahi
X. The Shores of I’estre
XI. Ramonda’s Company
XII. In the Southern Lands
XIII. A Chance Encounter
XIV. The First Strike
XV. Issalia
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This book is dedicated to, among others, my wife Erin, my son Jason and finally to my brother Rob for his indispensable feedback and advice on this book and others.
PART I
REMNANTS OF THE ORDER
I. Farewell to Ensildahir
“Don’t go north. They’ve taken Orishelm.”
Lorial Sunderlass studied the stranger for a moment.
“That was one of the first things Sól said to you after you met,” the man continued. “She said you’d remember those words. I’m sorry I don’t have any other token.”
Lorial moved back from the doorway. “It’s all right,” she said. “Come on in.”
The man smiled, wiped his feet and stepped inside “Thank you.”
Lorial closed the door, latching it. “Well, it’s still a little chilly. Why don’t you have seat by the fire?”
“Thank you,” the man said, taking her up on her offer but – Lorial observed – sitting down only after she had.
“So we have a mutual friend,” she said.
“She wonders how you’re getting on out here.”
“I manage. I do odd jobs for the city guard, arranging the armory, taking inventory of supplies and so on.” She smiled. “It’s a pity they don’t let women into the ranks of the city guard itself. I could show some of their training instructors a thing or two.”
“Yes,” the stranger said. “From everything Sól’s told me, I imagine you could.”
“But enough about me,” Lorial said. “What’s your story?”
“I’m Ishtvan Orlandor and I was a captain with the Orishelm guard. After the Angdar sacked the city, most of my company were dead or scattered but by lucky chance, I stumbled onto Sól.”
“What was she doing so far from her safe grounds?”
“Reconnoitering the area and seeing where the Angdar were,” Ishtvan replied. “This probably wouldn’t have been too long after she found you, I’d imagine.”
“And then she took you on?”
“More or less. I’ve been keeping an eye on the enemy’s movements up here for her.”
“Have you been up to Valahir?”
“A few times. The fighting’s still at a stand–off. The Angdar haven’t gained much ground. And I’ve also seen your northern borders with what’s left of Arahir and they’re fairly quiet. Since the people of Valahir are hemmed in between the northern branches of the river at Arvenreign, the Angdar are content to just keep prodding them where they are.”
“And what are their plans for Erahil?”
“They’re gathering strength just east of here at the northern end of the mountains. When they strike Ensildahir, they’re going to take the most direct route. They’re almost ready.”
“And I suppose we aren’t?”
“Well,” Ishtvan said, “that’s what I’m here to find out.”
“We have good patrols in place and a full watch,” Lorial told him. “And we’ve got message falcons ready to fly south at the first sign of trouble.”
“I know. I’ve seen this. What I’m questioning though is exactly who the Ensildahir city guard would side with if the city falls under attack.”
Lorial frowned. “Are you joking?”
“The commander of the city guard here rides east at irregular hours and with irregular company,” Ishtvan said. “Sometimes, he rides alone. And he rides through areas frequented by Angdar scouting groups but they never fight. And, I suspect if Vlaxan sees anything out there that he doesn’t report it.”
“You’ve spied on Vlaxan?”
“I have,” Ishtvan replied. “Now, I may be wrong about him but I’m suspicious of these secret excursions of his and I want to know what they’re all about, for my own peace of mind if nothing else. And I need you to help me.”
Lorial nodded. “I see. And Sól wants to know what’s going on as well.”
“That’s right. And she said you could help me.”
“All right.” Lorial stood up. “If we want to look inside Vlaxan’s quarters for any incriminating material, then – among other times – we have a good window of opportunity for the next three hours. He and his gangs are celebrating something at a nearby bar.”
“What are they celebrating?” Ishtvan asked.
Lorial shrugged. “Usually it’s the fact it’s open.”
“Now, have you got some way of getting in without breaking the door off the hinges?” Lorial asked.
“I can get in without chipping so much as a splinter off the woodwork,” Ishtvan assured her. “Sól gave me a present for just this type of thing.”
“I didn’t know Sól made presents like that.”
“She didn’t. It was made by a young mage who’s in the group. But Sól says it works.”
They came onto a long dark balcony looking over a deserted cobblestone street and an empty square in which a small fountain gurgled. Lorial stopped outside a door that looked no different from the ones on either side of it. “Here we are.”
“All right. Keep an eye out.” Ishtvan produced an odd looking piece of metal that he inserted into the door lock. He pried around with it for a few moments and the door swung free.
“I feel like a common thief,” Lorial muttered to him, her gaze still on the balcony and the street.
“A common thief should be so lucky,” Ishtvan said, “getting through a door that quickly.” He wen
t inside and uncovered a very small lantern.
“Does Vlaxan do a lot of sailing?” he asked.
“Not really,” Lorial replied, keeping her voice low. “Why do you ask?”
“There are coastal maps all over the place in here... with information on tides, coves and other anchorages.”
“I suppose there’s a reason for it,” Lorial said, “but that does seem a bit odd. Don’t dawdle in there though. It’d be more trouble than it’s worth if someone found us here.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
For the better part of a minute, neither one of them spoke. Then Ishtvan came out holding a piece of paper.
“I’m not going to take this with me,” he said, “but I think you should see it with your own eyes.”
Letting Ishtvan take over the role of look–out for a moment, Lorial took the paper from him, read it and returned it to him.
“Put this back,” she said. “We’re leaving.”
“We should tell Lord Asmundyr about this,” she said when they were back in her quarters. “Right now.”
Ishtvan shook his head. “I don’t think that’d be a wise move. There’s no real easy way to say what we found without telling him how we found it, and that’s for starters. However, let’s say we could convince him. What would happen next? Without knowing how many of the guards are with Vlaxan, telling Lord Asmundyr what’s going on might well put him in serious danger.”
“With a bunch of traitors in the city guard, isn’t he in enough danger already?”
Ishtvan sighed. “I don’t know. But if Vlaxan discovered that Lord Asmundyr knew his plans, he’d kill him before he could raise reinforcements from the surrounding towns and the outlying garrisons.”
“So what should we do then?” Lorial asked. “Just leave him? And what about the rest of the city?”
“If the Angdar and their human allies are coming to wipe the city out anyway, then Vlaxan’s hardly going to bother with it much in the meantime. No, the important thing now is to alert Kalishar and Ensari. And the mages.”
Lorial frowned. “Any idea why all these groups would be working together? I mean Vlaxan working with the Angdar is one thing but why would the eastern lands be planning to coordinate an attack on Ensari with an Angdar strike here? Cirreone and its allies might not be any friends of ours but they hate the Angdar as much as anyone, don’t they?”
Ishtvan considered the questions for a few moments before replying. “Well, that may still be the case.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we don’t know for sure whether either group knows they’re working with the other.”
“You mean Vlaxan might have orchestrated this whole thing for his own ends?” Lorial asked. “I’d find that pretty hard to believe.”
Ishtvan shrugged. “I didn’t say Vlaxan was the orchestrator. He may well be another pawn. But I don’t know. I’m just as much in the dark as you are. Perhaps the timing of the Angdar attack here and the attack on Ensari is purely coincidental. Perhaps the Angdar or some of their human allies learned about the Ensari attack and decided it would provide them with a tidy distraction for their own plans. All we know at this stage is that Vlaxan is working with the Angdar.”
II. Into the Mountains
“Vlaxan is fast, I’ll give him that,” Ishtvan muttered. “I didn’t expect him to get his men out looking for us this quickly. One of his people must have seen us leaving his quarters. Or maybe someone recognized me.”
They were in a forest now, three day’s ride east of Ensildahir. It was dark with a heavy mist in the air but it glowed with a faint blue ambience from the moonlight, which gave enough light for them to be seen if they weren’t careful.
Once the last group of Vlaxan’s riders had disappeared, they set off again and for an hour or so, they didn’t see anyone else. But it wasn’t to last.
Ishtvan held out a hand in a warning gesture. Lorial drew up beside him and watched as two more men on horseback rode past a hundred yards to their south.
“I think we still can’t turn south,” Ishtvan said once they were gone.
“No,” Lorial agreed. “There’ll be more patrols waiting for us. So we’re going to stick to the plan and go around the mountains?”
“I think so,” Ishtvan told her. “We should be able to keep out of sight in the foothills for a while and then, when the timing’s right, we can slip past the Angdar garrison under cover of darkness.”
They passed it two evenings later, riding through the forest–covered foothills of the range. Lorial gazed at it with a sense of morbid curiosity. A crude earthwork structure with thick walls, adorned by flaming torches.
“There must be hundreds of them in there,” she murmured.
“Thousands,” Ishtvan told her.
He led her farther up into the foothills, rounding the slope of the closest mountain in the range until they came upon a small path hidden in foliage. Then they followed it onto higher ground.
Later, they left the path and entered a small clearing. Lorial breathed out in amazement. She had no idea how high up they had come. Mountain peaks rose to either side of her and the lands of the east were visible below. A pleasant mist drifted through the trees and through it, she saw the faintest trace of the dawn’s light on the horizon.
She and Ishtvan then dismounted, took their packs off the horses and made their sleeping arrangements. It was then that the cold hit Lorial. However, soon she was sleeping in the folds of her warm traveling blanket, not caring about the Angdar, Cirreone or anything else but a good night’s rest.
Four days later, she and Ishtvan were traveling through the valleys between the mountain ridges. Their progress was a lot slower than it had been on the western side of the mountains but they had still traveled a long way down the range. A hundred miles in all. And concealed by mountains on either side of them, they didn’t have to worry about anyone spotting them.
In fact, the journey south had been quite pleasant. The weather was warm and sky was a deep blue, while all around them pretty flowers carpeted the landscape and sunlight reflected off the towering snow–capped peaks.
Now they were riding at a walking pace alongside a pristine blue river that cut through the valleys and it was leading them almost due south.
“We’ll reach some higher ground again tomorrow night,” Ishtvan said. “And we won’t be able to follow this river much longer after that. The terrain gets too difficult and we’ll have to use a different path. But I think we’ll soon be far enough south to travel out in the open, if we’re not already.”
“Well, no one knows we’re here, right?”
Ishtvan shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
“Well, maybe we can leave the mountains tomorrow.”
“Maybe.” Ishtvan then stopped by the river and pulled out his flask to refill it.
Lorial climbed down from her horse as well. She gave the animal an affectionate pat, ruffling her mane. “What do you think? Are you getting a little thirsty too?”
The animal made a sort of snorting sound in reply, which she took as a yes.
The next day came and went and the late evening found them some way along a path in eastern foothills, making their gradual descent to the plains. A heavy fog clung to the ground and the trees to either side. It was very dark and the only sound they heard was that of the horses’ hooves.
It had been this way for some time when they heard another sound, very soft and in the distance.
“What’s that?” Lorial asked.
“I’m not sure...” Ishtvan started. “Riders!” he hissed. “We have to get out of sight.” However, even as he said this, he knew it was too late. What had been a soft sound was now like thunder and moments later, four horsemen came out of the fog with swords drawn.
Lorial and Ishtvan urged their own horses on to a gallop, although one of the new riders overtook Ishtvan and took a swing at him. Ishtvan however was faster, grabbing his wrist and hauling him from his steed.
“They’re from the garrison,” he told Lorial as they raced along the path.
“What?”
“These riders,” Ishtvan said. “They’re from the garrison. I can tell from their armor.”
Lorial nodded, although she didn’t really understand. The riders weren’t Angdar, that was for sure. Those creatures weren’t famed for their horsemanship. But what Ishtvan had seen were dents on the left shoulder plates of each rider’s armor, a symbol of solidarity among the long–term residents of the garrison. If the men were not Angdar, then they were still in league with them. And most likely with Vlaxan as well.
Then a dozen more riders entered the melee, charging onto the path from a higher road. The newcomers forced Ishtvan and Lorial off the path onto steadily more slippery terrain.
“Jump!” Ishtvan shouted.
Lorial looked at him as if he were mad. “What?”
“Trust me,” he told her. Then he swung one leg over his saddle and leapt to the scree–covered ground, sliding through the gravel.
Lorial rolled her eyes, grimaced and then – throwing caution to the wind – followed his lead, while the horses darted off their own way.
“Come on!” Ishtvan shouted. And it was then Lorial saw his plan. Right in front of them was a ravine. If they hadn’t been driven off the path, a bridge would have taken them over it but now, they were heading into it.
Lorial bit her lip. Tumbling down this slope wasn’t going to be like rolling on a feathered mattress.
With a grimace, she dug her heels into the scree and leaned back, skidding into the depths with Ishtvan at her side, while the riders from the garrison turned back and headed north.
None of them stopped to see to their fallen comrade.
III. Keld
“Do you think they’ll find us here?” Lorial asked.
She and Ishtvan had made it to the cover of a small mesa on the plains before dawn, away from the mountain range.
Ishtvan was sitting on a rock, smiling as he surveyed the rugged but attractive landscape that lay below them.
“I doubt it,” he replied. “They’ll be looking for us in the foothills somewhere. And when they realize we’re not there, we’ll be long gone.”
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