Iron Clash (Legend of the Iron Flower Book 7)

by Billy Wong

  She choked out her reply. "He's dead, killed by a painted monster of a man. He flipped over my husband's head and spun around with agility like no human I've seen, and as he turned split his skull down to the teeth. I couldn't even do a thing. I wanted to fight, but all I managed was to watch Brandon die."

  Finn was taken aback. He'd feared for Rose's life before, and wondered about Alicia's chances briefly, but Brandon he had not expected to die. The count had gotten through the battles against the princely alliance fairly unscathed, only to fall victim to an almost forgotten yet deadly enemy. Brandon might have been his rival, but Finn was still saddened by the loss of a brave ally and warrior, and knew Rose would take it worse. He felt doubly compassionate for his pregnant wife. "I'm sorry, Ashleigh. But why did he spare you?"

  She wiped at her eyes, crying freely. "Spare me? More like ignored me. He just left after he killed Brandon, like I meant nothing to him. I was so useless! It's a wretched feeling, not to be able to help while you watch your loved one die. Do you know him? He said he was after you and Rose, but that he wouldn't pass up the chance to take another famed life."

  He must have followed Derrick and the dying Mick, and chanced upon Brandon as he left for home. "Yes, I've met him—and I'm going to kill him next time."

  "You better hurry back to your camp, then. He's coming after your wife, I'd guess."

  Finn's heart nearly stopped in his chest. As weak as Rose was, she would stand little chance against the Dream Killer. Though she might be in the middle of an allied encampment, he didn't doubt the foreigner's ability to get inside and strike. If he didn't get back in time, he too would lose his beloved spouse. "Can I borrow a horse? Mine's near his breaking point."

  "Of course. Don't let Rose die."

  #

  Victor noticed Wilner walking towards the idle Clearsky, and asked nervously, "What are you doing? That trident belongs to me."

  Wilner continued to approach the weapon and touched its haft with a smile. The ugly line of stitches above his lip still bent with it. "That's not what it says. It tells me you haven't been using it; that you've been letting its power go to waste."

  "I do not need it when no fight is happening."

  "You always carried it before the war began. Isn't its main purpose to give advice?"

  Yes, both outside battle and during it, when its shared inhuman perceptiveness allowed its wielder to be astonishingly precise. But when not fighting, it gave bad advice in Victor's eyes. Maybe not so poor for gaining temporary "success," but certainly harmful from a moral and long term standpoint. There was nothing the trident wouldn't want its wielder to do in pursuit of their goals—except, of course, discard Clearsky. Even if Victor didn't have any conscience, he might still think being completely ruthless could hurt his reputation too much in practical terms.

  "Get away from it, Wilner. It's still mine."

  "I'd think it would serve us better in hand than sitting there unused, wouldn't you say?"

  Victor glanced at Wilner's one-armed captain Loreen at the entrance to his tent, and she said to his surprise, "Your Highness, I think you should let him be. We don't need the trident right now, and it does no good to antagonize your allies."

  "He's wasting our time. Laying down his weapon, setting up this truce—Victor, I'm beginning to doubt your heart's even in this fight."

  Of course it wasn't. He'd rather see his country won peacefully—as peacefully as it could be, anyway. "If you're so eager to resume the battle, why don't you take your own troops and break the truce. I can't stop you, eh?" But he doubted Wilner would commit himself against the Kaylanders without the help of Victor's army.

  "If Coblan alone could defeat the enemy, why would I even bother to ally myself with such a weak-hearted man like you?" Wilner eyed Clearsky, which his hand had closed around, and grinned. Victor wondered fearfully what the damned thing was saying to him.

  "Let's just go," Loreen said.

  The prince of Coblan reluctantly let go of Clearsky and turned away slowly, raking Victor with his glare. He left the tent.

  "What did you tell him?" Victor asked the trident. "You better not be inciting treachery in his black heart, you bloodthirsty fiend!"

  I told him the truth. I'd serve both of you better in his hands, than yours.

  Victor wanted to break Clearsky in half, though he doubted he could harm it. The only reason Rose's sword had damaged it was probably her blade being made from the bone of the powerful Spelldrinker. "And what would you want him to do with you? Continue the war, when further bloodshed might be unnecessary?"

  You think they'll surrender their lands so easily? You're foolish, Victor; your judgment clouded by your sympathy. There will be more battles whether you want it or not, and your real choice is between fighting them when they're ready—and when they're not.

  "You want to break the truce. But that'll make us seem like savages with no honor, and they'll fight even harder to avert my reign."

  Maybe. But if you crush them hard enough, they'll be too scared to continue the fight.

  Perhaps Clearsky was right about that. But Victor didn't want to do any more damage to his country than he already had. He was the rightful king of Kayland, not some invader who only wanted to conquer and pillage the land. He wanted to be remembered as a good ruler someday, and that could start right here. Still, the enemy was unprepared and their greatest warriors absent or too wounded to put up their usual fight. He admitted the thought of a quick victory was tempting. "I'll think about it. But don't you dream that you can rule my mind."

  He was still brooding over his decision a couple of days later when the messenger came. The young man in tanned hides had the dark complexion of a Volstonian, and wore a beaded goatee. "Prince Victor," he said with a bow, "my lord requests your aid. Prince Max is being chased by a larger force headed by Lady Sierra, and hopes you can help him turn the tide."

  "Max sent you?"

  "Your man Conrad came up with the idea, actually. He would've come himself, except that he fears to leave Max's side."

  Max clearly wasn't the wisest of leaders, or men. The thought of Sierra so far from the bulk of her allies intrigued Victor. If the regent could be disposed of, perhaps the rest of Kayland would be more willing to submit to his rule. On the other hand, killing her might anger the Kaylanders so that they refused to surrender. What if he captured her, then? Maybe he could even convince her to give up. "How many pursue Max at Sierra's side?"

  "No more than a few score now. The rest of her men have joined up here with their allies. It would not take a huge force to rid yourself of your enemy's leader."

  "Sounds too good an opportunity to pass up. How far are Max and Sierra from here?"

  "Max has been attempting to come this way to meet you. Intercepting them wouldn't take longer than a few days."

  He nodded. "Then let this war end, so that I can sit as I should as king."

  #

  Thonng curiously regarded the dark-haired man in black plate armor as he wheeled his horse around in front of him. He held a long-handled axe in one hand and a large trident missing one tine in the other, but carried both heavy weapons with ease while he guided his mount with his knees. His harsh, confident face conveyed no fear.

  "Who are you?" Thonng said. "Get out of my way."

  "I don't think so. My spies tell me you plan to join Kayland's allies? I will hardly allow that to pass." The man pointed the white trident at him. "Join us instead, as is your proper place."

  Slowly, Thonng recognized the weapon as that which Kayla wielded before her demise. "You're Victor?"

  "No. Prince Wilner is my name." He eyed Clearsky with a smirk. "You must be wondering about this? I took it after Victor went. Hunting the regent makes me think a little better of where his mind is, but not enough for me to trust him all the way."

  "You stole the weapon from your ally?"

  "He didn't need it, according to himself. It might have sat disused for eternity if I hadn't taken it for my
self. Now, are you ready to stand united with your people?"

  Thonng frowned. "Even if you didn't carry that evil trident, I'd have to think twice. You and Victor are obviously very tenuous allies."

  "We have your daughter, great king. I could just kill her, if you don't comply."

  "I doubt you'd kill her so easily. She's the only bargaining chip you have, and you want my help."

  "I want your people's, true. But I also think they'll be less able to resist Clearsky when you're dead."

  So the trident was what had passed for Kayla's power in the others' eyes. "After telling me that, you can't intend to let me survive."

  Wilner laughed. "No. Come at me, and let me see the power of your elder race." Thonng shouted magic words and a lightning bolt thick as an old oak lanced down towards Wilner's position. But he raised his trident, and the energy seemed to bend around his body. "Very impressive. Just not enough to overcome Clearsky."

  Shocked by the power still in the damaged weapon, Thonng tried showering the prince with a hail of flame. Again, nothing. Wilner spurred his horse forward, and Thonng kicked at him in rage. But the black steed leaned aside, and as his foot passed an axe cut through the back of his ankle. With a scream, Thonng fell on his back and grabbed his leg. Wilner strode carefreely before his face and smiled. "Now, should I ask you one more time to become my ally?"

  Thonng's desire not to die outweighed his pride. "All right, all right, I'll help you!"

  "Pathetic. So large and... visually mighty, and already groveling with a mere injured leg. Even women aren't always such pansies." He said the last with an ironic grin. "But I wonder, could I trust you not to betray me? Probably not, Clearsky tells me. So Thonng... die." Wilner drew back his arm and thrust, driving two tines into Thonng's throat. He kicked and gagged as every sense was replaced with red agony, the lightning pouring into him roasting his flesh and veins. If he could still think clearly, he would have thought it took too long for him to die.

  #

  Rose bit off a piece of her fish dinner, able again to eat solid food though still in pain. She missed Finn, and hoped he would come back soon. "I'm glad there was a truce," Derrick said. "I hate wartime."

  He had fought with her and Finn before in battles against Coblan and its allies, and though he hated it proved to be a courageous ally. Rose shrugged. "It's nice to have a break, but why? I doubt Victor would have given up his ambitions for Kayland's throne. Maybe he's waiting for more allies."

  "I hope not. But it's worse for you than me. I only have my work to go back to, but you've got your family life."

  She missed her children indeed. When she'd decided to go visit Loreen, she hadn't thought at all to become involved in another war. "I'm okay. But I'm a terrible mother, aren't I?"

  "You try." He paused, chewing his own meat. "I can't believe Loreen let Wilner destroy your insides."

  "She's loyal to her country, and I can't really fault her for it. I mean, you could ask the opposite, why did I insist on fighting against her nation? I'm her friend too, but that doesn't dictate our lives."

  "But you're fighting for what's right—against the aggressors, as always."

  "I believe that. Doesn't mean I can change what she thinks is right."

  They finished their meal and went inside to sleep. Rose sensed something was wrong, and looked right just as something barreled out of the corner of the tent. "Look out!" she cried.

  Derrick sprang aside, drawing his sword while Rose met a flurry of steel with her own. Her insides flared up with agony as she forced herself to match the speed of the flashing blades. She could barely see their wielder, blending in with the shadows like he did right now. But she knew him anyway from his face and the shape of his weapons. The Dream Killer, no longer robed but covered only by paint, had come for her life.

  Her strength began to falter under the blitz, and she felt stinging cuts open on her shoulder and ribs. She caught a sword on hers and shoved, using her superior weight to push her opponent back a step. Derrick rushed to her aid, slashed at the unbalanced man's head. It was almost enough, his blade clipping the Dream Killer's skull. Blood running down his face, the killer backhanded Derrick in the nose with a sword hilt. Cartilage crunched under the blow, and the scholar fell away.

  Rose lurched at the Dream Killer, her sword whooshing through the air. He blocked it with both his weapons, stopping it inches from his eyes. White teeth gleamed in the sparse light as he growled and sprang away. He rushed again, weaving a web of steel before him. Forced back, Rose dodged and parried and wished she had her shield. Suddenly he leapt and flew horizontally at her through the air, swords stabbing out like twin horns at her breasts.

  She managed to evade, twisting aside while parrying the closer blade. But the Dream Killer landed on his feet, spun with uncanny grace into a slash with his second sword. It sliced into Rose's leg and she stumbled, falling to one knee. The painted man laughed. "Some legendary warrior you turn out to be. Your husband was more of a challenge with his mace. Where is he, anyway?"

  He lunged, slashing high. Swiftly, Rose parried one and then the other blade. She exploded up from her crouch, driving the top of her head into his face. Blood splattered into her hair, and he stumbled back with a grunt of pain. "That's for my friend's nose," she said. "And this is for Mick's life." She followed him, chopped at his side.

  "You trickster!" he spat, but blocked with one of his blades. His other sword plunged low, aiming for Rose's groin. She sidestepped with partial success, a cut opening on her hip. Having her armor on would have been nice...

  She gripped her sword with both hands and lashed out with a series of heavy blows, one of which struck a thin sword near the hilt, tearing it away. He punched at her with his empty fist, and she hopped back. But though his strike stopped short of touching her, to her surprise she felt a force like a battering ram slam into her midsection and send her flying.

  The Dream Killer looked at his fist and smiled while Rose sat up, grimacing. Her abdomen hurt almost as bad as when it had first been ripped apart, and she knew the phantom punch had aggravated her injuries. She stood slowly and raised her sword again. Maybe she could still win, if she held up long enough. But when she opened her mouth for a panting breath, blood ran out over her lip. Damn, why did the Dream Killer have to find her in this state...

  "The magic of my land," he said. "The power to harness the spirit to achieve impossible things. Too much for you, great warrior?"

  "No, your hits are pathetic. You're lucky I was injured already."

  "Delude yourself as you wish. But now, cease to exist."

  Rose shuddered at the almost lustful anticipation in his eyes. "Why is it you want to kill us, anyway?"

  The painted man laughed crazily. "To regain my place, that's why. I used to be a god—the god, really. But I forgot and lost all my strength. Now I'm taking it back, one step at a time."

  Of course Rose didn't believe him at all, but it shocked her enough that he could think such a ridiculous thing. "And how did you remember what you lost, then?" she asked anyway.

  "My enemies killed everyone I cared about in my human life—my wife, our two children, even my best friend. But they didn't really matter after all. In my sadness, I looked inside myself and realized all this world's only a dream of mine. The rest of you are nothing more than extensions of my mind. But somehow, I forgot that and became lost in my own imagination, how careless of me. Now I know what I am, and I'm going to take back my power. Once I've destroyed all you false legends, I'll be recognized by all my parts as supreme, and my place will be restored."

  "So you think you're a fallen creator god, and if you kill enough famous people you'll regain your status? Personally, I think your grief simply made you lose your mind."

  Hardly perturbed by her attempt to disillusion him, the Dream Killer picked up his dropped sword and strode confidently forward. Rose's vision blurred and her limbs quivered, but she forced her body to remain upright. The curved blades spread wide... then
the Dream Killer fell, a gasp escaping his throat. She stared down at him, his back gashed open all the way down one side.

  Alicia stood proudly behind the fallen warrior, a smug grin across her face. It surprised Rose she was able to stand, let alone swing her massive axe. Then, as if remembering she was dying, Alicia collapsed grimacing to the floor. "You all right?" Rose asked fearfully as she limped to the duchess' side.

  "It's okay, I'll live. Saved your ass, didn't I?"

  "Thanks, Alicia." She looked at the redhead. "Say, you don't really look that sick from here."

  "I always look good. But I still feel terrible."

  Rose heard a sound at her back, and turned in time to see the Dream Killer move. Before she could reach him, he launched himself away off the ground, slashing at the tent's side. His body followed his swords through the hole they made, and when Rose got outside there was no one in sight. Shit, he had gotten away again...

  She heard Derrick waking up with a moan of pain. Forgetting Alicia, she went to check on her less physically prodigious friend. His broken nose was twisted to one side, but he had no truly dangerous injuries. "Ow," he said. "Why am I always so useless in a fight? Sorry about that."

  "Doesn't matter, Derrick. I'm just glad you're all right." She set his nose with a squeeze, and his scream drowned out the crunch.

  Finn returned the next day, looking exhausted. Rose doubted he had rested since leaving a few days ago, but there was no medicine and no Count Brandon in sight. Laying eyes upon her, he seemed incredibly relieved. "Rose! I g-guess I got here in time."

  "What's going on? Why back in such a hurry?"

  He embraced her and spoke in a soft voice. "Brandon's dead. The Dream Killer killed him right before Ashleigh's eyes, and he's coming for us next. I'm so glad I got back in time, so I can protect you."