The Star Of Saree

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Slowly, she staggered forward with her hand on her stomach. The goddess picked up the broken chain that had held her captive. The links were snapped. Somehow, the magical steel had been pulled apart.

  The smith couldn’t have done this. Her breath came quickly, hands shaking as she dropped the chain as if it was on fire. Backing away, she looked from side to side. Only one god’s strength could have broken the chain.

  Panic ripped through her brain. She couldn’t go to Hesperina, because then the queen would know she had been holding Ranjan prisoner, but the queen’s anger at her devilry wouldn’t matter if the Reaper was truly free.

  The gods would have to unite to stop him before he killed the rest of them, or perhaps inflict something even worse upon the whole pantheon. She would just have to swallow her pride and tell the queen what she had found. If Octavian had returned, it could spell the end for all of them.

  Every ladder in Brova had been commandeered. Every piece of lumber in the city that could be found was used to extend the ladders or fashion new ones. Some of the huge timbers that had not been consumed in the fire were pulled from the ashes of the cathedral and lashed together. The city’s carpenters were ordered to construct a ram from them that could be pushed up the road to the palace. Sunrise had seen the entire army up and preparing for the assault. K’xarr still believed it would be afternoon before he could attack. The captain had considered waiting, but he didn’t want to let Serban’s men catch their breath from the defeat they suffered the day before. The ram and ladders weren’t to his liking but they would have to do. The palace walls were at least twenty-foot-high, and its gate was strong and ironbound. They would need the luck of the gods to get inside with enough men to take the palace.

  The large hill the palace sat on wouldn’t help matters either. The slopes were too steep to attack from. The only viable approach was the road. His forces would have to march up and try to organize under heavy fire from the battlements. If Serban didn’t have a bow in every one of his soldier’s hands, he was a fool.

  Each of his lieutenants had been assigned a wall—Kago to the west, Rufio the east, and Cromwell and Endra would see to the rear. He and Sala would assault the main gate and southern wall. K’xarr had decided to keep Kian with him. It never hurt to have the Slayer nearby.

  Constantine and the rebels would hold their march halfway down the road, out of range of the baron’s archers, until one of the walls was breached or reinforcements were needed. Then their numbers could be used to overwhelm the palace defenders. He wasn’t happy with the strategy, but there was little else he could do. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the baron until nightfall. If things went well, he hoped to be inside before the blood drinker could become a problem.

  Looking up, K’xarr watched the wispy clouds part and let the spring sun through. The weather looked to be cooperating with him for once.

  Glancing into the street, K’xarr saw Kian. The swordsman was dressed in his chainmail and his dark sword was strapped to his side. Beneath his dark mane, the swordsman’s golden eyes searched the street.

  “K’xarr, the men are ready. I can’t find Endra, though,” Cromwell said, coming up behind him.

  “What is he doing?” K’xarr asked, nodding toward Kian.

  Cromwell studied the swordsman for a moment. “I don’t know, but he looks angry.”

  As they looked on, Kago came from around the city’s stable. Kian caught sight of the man and headed right for him.

  “Oh shit, come on, Bull,” K’xarr said as he ran toward the two men.

  Kago saw Kian and reached for Malice, but the half-breed was too fast. He ripped Kattan’s sword belt off before the warrior’s blade could clear its scabbard. Tossing Malice over his shoulder, Kian grabbed Kago by the throat, and lifted him off the ground. Kago kicked and pounded on his attacker’s arm, but he couldn’t break the warrior’s inhuman grip. K’xarr watched as his lieutenant’s face turn a deep scarlet and the scar that ran across Kago’s face became so purple, it looked like it might explode.

  “Let him go, Kian. I need the man,” K’xarr shouted, coming up on the golden-eyed warrior. He grabbed Kian’s arm and tried to force him to lower Kago. It was like trying to bend a piece of iron. Kian pushed him back with the palm of his free hand with enough force to send the mercenary captain rolling into the street.

  “You can choke that bastard all you like, but I can’t have you throwing the captain around,” Cromwell said, grabbing Kian in a great bear hug from behind. The Toran’s huge arms contracted and he pushed with his legs, lifting both Kian and Kago off the ground. Cromwell whipped the two men back and forth until Kian dropped the limp mercenary.

  The swordsman hammered his elbow into Cromwell’s abdomen, then stepped back and flipped the Toran over his shoulder. Kian quickly moved to where Kago lay rolling back and forth, coughing and gasping for air. Before he could take hold of the half-Sidian warrior again, K’xarr slammed into enraged swordsman. Wrapping his hand into Kian’s hair, K’xarr jerked with all his might. Cromwell crawled over and grabbed the furious warrior around the ankles at the same time. The two held Kian long enough for several members of the Sons to leap to their captain’s aid, adding their weight to his. More of the mercenaries joined in, punching and kicking the swordsman until the sheer weight of their numbers brought him to his knees.

  Endra came running down the street, pulling Kago to his feet. The warrior snatched Malice from the ground, his face a mask of rage. The wild melee slowly calmed, but the mercenaries didn’t let the dangerous swordsman off his knees.

  “Let him up, Captain. I am not afraid of that bastard,” Kago said, spitting blood from a busted lip.

  Endra grabbed his arm. “No, he will kill you.”

  The half-Sidian gave his lover a furious look and jerked his arm away.

  “Kago, get out of here now,” K’xarr ordered. “Go see to the men on the other side of the city.”

  “This isn’t over,” Kago said, storming away with Endra on his heels.

  “And you calm down, damn it,” K’xarr said, looking into Kian’s eyes. The captain motioned to his men and they slowly backed away, letting the swordsman get to his feet.

  “I can’t have this now. We have a battle to fight and I need Kago alive.”

  Kian said nothing, only glaring at the men who encircled him.

  “When this fight is over, you can kill the scar-faced cock,” Cromwell said, patting Kian on the shoulder.

  The inhuman warrior scowled. “You knew.”

  Cromwell lowered his head and said nothing.

  “We weren’t sure,” K’xarr said.

  The expression on the Kian’s face was one of anger and betrayal. “When we are finished here, Kago dies and any who try to stop me will follow him to Hell. Any,” Kian said, baring his fangs in contempt. He turned on his heel and walked away.

  K’xarr looked up at Cromwell. “Damn it.”

  * * *

  Had everyone known but him? The question gnawed at his mind as he wandered among the dead bodies that littered the field outside the city. Their gruesome stillness was almost a comfort. The dead did not judge or betray. They didn’t even raise an argument. The fallen could only bear a hushed witness to his torment.

  Kian had always known a day could come when Endra might find she no longer loved him. It had always been a mystery why such a beautiful woman had chosen him in the first place. He loved her beyond all things. What he had seen the night before had changed that. Never did he think she would hurt him in such a way.

  The sight of Endra and Kago together was etched in his mind for all time now, and he wanted to kill them both. Kago, he understood, but something inside him wanted Endra’s blood as well, perhaps even more so.

  K’xarr would soon lead the rebels against the palace. What had happened wouldn’t stop the Camiran from moving against the baron; K’xarr was single-minded and would consider nothing until the battle was over.

  Kian knew he would be no
good to them now. All he could think of was revenge, and until he sorted things out in his mind, he wasn’t sure who he might kill in the heat of battle.

  His head hurt terribly and the heart Tavantis put in his chest pounded like a sledgehammer. Darkness had fallen over him like a spiteful shroud when he saw the woman he loved in the arms of another. He could feel a presence inside him now, twisting and tearing at his brain. The evil he fought so hard against had gained a foothold, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop it from consuming him totally. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

  The air stirred beside him and a goddess appeared. Syann had tried to pull her blonde hair back, but had missed a few of her golden strands. She wore her dark armor and the silver sword of justice hung at her side. “Kian, I have to speak with you. It’s about Endra.”

  Anger and embarrassment took hold of him. “There is nothing to talk about,” he said, turning from the goddess. Rage boiled inside him. It was something beyond anything he had experienced before. He felt lightheaded and had to concentrate to keep on his feet.

  “Her mind has been tampered with,” Syann said.

  Kian turned. “Who would do this to me? Tragedy? I will kill the sorceress for it.”

  “No, it was Valintina.”

  “Why would the Goddess of Love do such a thing?”

  “Revenge. I injured her son and this is her way of trying to hurt me.”

  Kian anger spilled over. “So it is a feud among the gods? You have brought this down on me, Syann. You must fix it, for I cannot.”

  He could see the pity in the goddess’s face. “I can’t. Valentina’s power is beyond mine, especially when it come to this kind of thing. There is nothing I can do.”

  Kian bared his fangs. “Then what good are you? I have done nothing to offend the gods, and this is what I receive in return?”

  “Champion me, Kian, then together we can seek revenge. Together, we can make Valintina pay for what she has done.”

  “No, I will find my own revenge, Syann.” Kian looked down at the ring the goddess had given him years ago back in Bandara. “You have helped me in the past, and I trusted you. This is where that trust has led me. I have nothing now. Why would I ever want to be your champion?”

  She stepped closer to him. “There is much you could have if you would just listen to me.”

  “I have listened to many people and that has been my undoing. Now I will take my own council. Strike me dead if you wish, I do not care anymore,” the swordsman roared.

  Syann wiped a single tear from her cheek. The disappointment in her eyes was plain to see. “I have no wish to ever hurt you, Kian. Perhaps I have come to you too soon. Know that Valintina will be made to answer for what she has done, in blood.”

  Without ceremony, the goddess was gone. Kian drew Silence from its scabbard. Closing his eyes, he knelt down and held the soundless blade before him, listening to the dark whispering in his mind.

  * * *

  It was unlike the swordsman to be late. K’xarr didn’t know where Kian had gotten to, off pouting no doubt, but he could no longer wait. The army either needed to be inside the palace walls or back in the city by nightfall. He didn’t want to deal with what the vampiric Baron could do to them after dark.

  Unfortunately, this wasn’t a cavalry fight. His men were better on horseback, and he hated to throw them at the palace’s battlements with nothing but a bunch of ladders and their balls. Then again, war was seldom an accommodating maiden. One had to make do with what she offered.

  The plan was to take the Sons and Sala’s Trimenians up the road to try to establish positions around the palace. There wasn’t much ground to work with on the top of the massive hill outside the walls, but it would have to do. Once the men had surrounded the palace and initiated the attack, he would bring up the rebels and try to muscle his way inside.

  It wasn’t much of a plan. He just hoped their superior numbers would win the day.

  K’xarr looked around once more for the swordsman. He couldn’t really blame Kian for wanting to kill Kago. If he was in Kian’s place, he would want the man’s head too. But Kago was a member of the company, and that put K’xarr in a tight spot. It was a worry for later, he thought. The two warriors’ personal troubles would have to wait. He needed to stay focused on the battle at hand.

  Making his way past where their makeshift ram sat, the mercenary captain moved to the head of the column as it began to stream out of the city’s northern gate. Cromwell and the others were waiting for him near the gatehouse.

  “Where is Kian?” the Toran asked, slinging his two-handed sword over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know. We will have to start without him. Once we’re at the top, get ladders on the wall on every side as quickly as you can. Spread their men as thin as possible. Sala will hit the gate with our ram as soon as we are in position. Once the initial attack begins, I will signal Constantine to bring his men up. With any luck, we will have men inside before late afternoon.”

  “What about Serban himself?” Endra asked.

  “I guess Vladimir will see to that bloodsucker once we are inside, since I don’t know where Kian is, the shapeshifter will be our best bet. If that doesn’t work out, destroy that bastard any way you can.”

  “We are going to take a lot of hell from those men on the walls,” Rufio said, looking up at the palace.

  “I know. Just keep your heads down. Almost everyone has a shield, make sure they use them,” K’xarr said, gesturing with the round buckler on his arm. “You all know what to do, now let’s see to it.”

  The column of men began to move up the road on the hill at a fast pace. As soon as K’xarr and the front ranks topped the crest, flights of arrows began to rain down on them. Men screamed as some of the deadly shafts found their way through the shields they held above their heads. Their comrades marched over the fallen men, trying to keep their ranks close.

  At the top of the hill, the separate companies broke from the column and ran to their assigned walls. K’xarr watched as his lieutenants led their men to their positions. Arrows continued to pepper their ranks, dropping man after man as his contingents moved along the outside of the walls.

  Ladders slammed against the stone battlements, and the Trimenian soldiers and the Sons climbed up into the enemy’s defenses. Stones, arrows, and scalding water greeted them as they fought to gain the battlements. Bodies hit the ground, one atop the other, as they scaled the ladders into the mouth of the beast.

  Within moments of the battle beginning, K’xarr realized he couldn’t wait. They needed numbers. He was losing men faster than he had thought he would. He signaled to the rebels. A shout went up from the road as Vladimir and Katrina led the peasants forward, and a tide of human bodies hit the walls at a dead run, swarming up the ladders like angry ants.

  Moving his arm forward, K’xarr signaled Sala to attack with the ram. There was little hope it would breach the thick gate, but it would draw men away from the ladders.

  He had done all he could. Raising Crimson Wave, K’xarr led the last of his men into battle. Moving up a ladder, the mercenary captain had to swing to the side to dodge a large rock hurled from above. Getting to the top of the wall, K’xarr thrust his red-bladed sword into a soldier’s belly. Another quickly took his place, thrusting a spear at the mercenary captain. Turning to the side, K’xarr cut the spearhead off and tried to shove his way onto the battlements. Before he could gain the wall, the enemy soldier put the broken shaft to the ladder’s top rung and pushed.

  K’xarr grabbed for the bloodstained wall, but felt his hand slide away from the smooth stone. The ladder tipped backward. The captain’s weight, along with the two men below him, sent the ladder crashing to the ground. The wind burst from his lungs and his head swam from the impact. Cautiously, he got to his feet. There was nothing broken. The Mistress’s armor was the only explanation for that.

  Angry, he ran for a nearby ladder. Following one of the rebels up, K’xarr hurried to get back in the
fight. The man above him cried out and fell. The dead rebel’s weight nearly jarring him loose. His feet quickly stepping up the rungs, K’xarr found himself once again at the top of the wall. Blocking a blow from one of the palace defenders, he counterattacked, his blade slicing into the man’s face just below the nose. Taking advantage of the gap, K’xarr hastily leaped onto the battlements. A quick look around told him that the rebel forces were gaining ground. There were several pockets of his men on the parapet walkway. Another hour, and the walls would be theirs.

  * * *

  The baron waited inside palace’s foyer. He could hear the clash of steel and the screams of the dying. He wanted desperately to go out and rip his enemies apart, but he would have to have patience. It was still hours until sunset.

  Captain Snell entered through the palace’s large front doors. Covered in the gore of their enemies, the mercenary saluted. His expression was one of concern.

  “The rebels are on the walls, my lord. We cannot hold them back much longer, there are too many.”

  Serban snarled and slapped the large man in the face, his supernatural strength knocking Snell to his knees.

  “You incompetent fool, I told you all you had to do was hold till nightfall.”

  “It is the mercenaries, my lord. Those who lead them are fierce, and they hold the wall while more of the rebels pour in.”

  Serban thought for a moment. “Get up, you bumbling oaf, and bring me the wizards. Because of you, I have little choice but to seek their aid.”

  The captain got to his feet and fled from the baron’s presence.

  He didn’t want the Circle’s help. There was just nothing else he could do. Victory was nearly his and he wasn’t going to let it slip away because of his soldiers’ incompetence. He would deal with Vanguard and his minions later. All he needed to do was win this battle and his enemies in Trimenia would be gone. His reign could begin. The baron picked up a vase from one of the small tables and threw it against the wall, shattering it into tiny shards. If only the sun would set.