Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2

by Kade Derricks

  “You. You are doing this to me somehow. You are stealing the life from me!” Slerian yelled. He tried to fight again, but his fists held no strength and Verdant ignored them. “I was raised first; I proved stronger. This isn’t right. You are just a usurper, less…than…nothing…”

  “You were raised first, but I have the Light,” Verdant answered, a triumphant note ringing in his voice. He grabbed Slerian’s arms at the elbows. “And it is you who have nothing.”

  In a shining rush, Verdant’s hands were suddenly empty. Slerian’s hollow robes collapsed between his ruined fingertips. Oddly, he could still sense the mage, but locked within himself instead of in front of him as he’d been moments before. He also felt Slerian’s strength. Raised first, the mage had held a far greater portion of the deep power responsible for their rebirth; more than he could have imagined.

  One of the golden elf Risen approached and, without thinking, Verdant touched him. The spark flared, and with it Verdant issued a command. Kill the demons and defend the wood elves. The golden elf pivoted and bellowed, charging a nearby group of demons.

  Siam appeared then at Verdant’s side.

  “The wood elves are still in danger. There are hundreds of demons in the courtyard and thousands more out here with us.”

  “Get me near more of the other Risen,” Verdant ordered, eyes ablaze.

  Slowly, they worked their way around the battlefield. The Risen Verdant freed fought on their behalf. Their numbers swelled. Left and right, they struck down demon after demon.

  Cries rose from within the castle. The tide of demons slowed as they became confused and fought on both sides. Verdant used his newfound spellcasting abilities and hurled rolling spheres of blue and white flames. They felt clumsy and misshapen, but they still shattered groups of demons in all directions.

  The fighting continued. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the battle started shifting. The demons found themselves outnumbered. Angry, they snapped at their attackers like vicious dogs cowering together in packs. Verdant’s Risen crushed them.

  Verdant caught a glimpse of One Eye, a big orc he recognized, fleeing with a group of followers across the river and then turning north toward the tall mountain peaks.

  The first stars appeared in the heavens as Siam’s staff destroyed the last demon. It howled in pain, and then nothing but a jumbled pile of mush and leathery skin remained.

  Verdant stared at the castle’s black outline.

  Thousands of Risen surrounded him. He felt them, one and all, in his mind. If he wished it, they would obey him without question. He had the power now that he held Slerian’s strength along with his own.

  He let the control go.

  He didn’t want to be like Slerian; he wanted the Risen to be free. One by one, the voices melted away. No longer were they held against their will. Now they were all free to answer the question for themselves.

  “What now?” Siam asked. A thousand other Risen voices rose—some wood elf, some human, a few dwarven, and now some Golden—each asking the same.

  Verdant had never been a leader; he was a simple country priest. Yet they all looked to him for guidance. He could only offer them the truth. The castle gate was open, its thick chains broken and smashed into the ground. Inside were wood elves, humans, dwarves, and golden elves. Hundreds of dead lay in piles in the courtyard. They watched him, weapons ready, tired and wary. There was fear on their dirty, sweat-streaked faces. Fear and determination.

  “I don’t know.”

  Seconds before Koren reached the door, Dain heard her. He ran forward, unwilling to yield Teran’s room to her, and when the door opened, his tomahawk followed. She screamed and jerked back before it reached her neck, the blade missing by less than an inch.

  Dain followed her. He lunged through the doorway with a sweep of his sword. It struck her waist and came away bloodied. Koren screamed again and fell away. Dain thought for a moment that the fight wouldn’t be as difficult as he imagined, and then a pair of powerful demons was between them.

  Aiming for a shoulder, he struck at the nearest. The sword hit the beast’s forearm and rattled as if it had met steel instead of flesh. Then the creature struck back. The blow was aimed at Dain’s head, and he barely ducked beneath it.

  He retreated a step and the demons advanced. Drawing on the Light, he charged his weapons and bolstered himself with its strength.

  He stabbed at the second demon. The blade hit its chest and flashed. A thin wisp of smoke rose where it struck and it cried in pain, but fought on. The first demon’s claws raked across his chainmail and Dain fell back.

  Recovered, the second demon pounced for him. Dain rolled free and the long claws on its toes gouged deep grooves in the glassy floor where his head had just been.

  Countering, he swung for the beast’s head and connected. Again, a small flash of Light and a puff of smoke. Before he could strike again, the first demon sprang to its brother’s aid.

  Tomahawk and sword, he fought them; they herded him across the room, step by hard-won step, away from their master. Koren lay on the glasslike floor, panting and holding a hand to her bloodied side. From Jin’s warnings he knew she’d recover soon if he didn’t reach her.

  The wall was just a foot behind him; he had the demons as far from Koren as possible. A vision of his squad taking the castle from house one—another impossible task—flashed in his mind. We’ll distract them, keep their eyes focused in one direction, and then strike from another. That was what he’d told his friends so many years ago. It had worked back then. They’d been fighting for their pride, and they’d been victorious. Today he was fighting for his life—for all their lives—and now he would find out if such a plan would work again. It was time to improve the odds.

  “Jin, now!” Dain bellowed.

  Black-streaked blonde hair flying out behind her, Jin burst from Teran’s room and headed straight for Koren. Her sword flashed with yellow Light. Koren rolled free as the sword crashed against the floor in a shower of sparks.

  One of the demons turned, and Dain’s sword bit into its exposed neck. This time, black blood bubbled and hissed against his glowing blade. More of the acrid smoke poured from the wound. The demon jerked away and the sword tore free from Dain’s grip. As he scooped down to recover it, the second demon backhanded him and he flew across the room.

  On her feet now, Koren attacked Jin. One hand held a long dagger and her other was curled into a sharp claw. Two lines of blood crossed Jin’s arm where the golden elf had scored a hit.

  Both demons had turned their backs to Dain and were moving in to trap Jin. Dain tried to stand, but his side burned like a brand. A broken rib, he thought. Every breath felt like pumping a bellows filled with hot pain.

  Using the tomahawk as a short crutch, he limped forward. With a little luck he could take one of the demons from behind.

  His sword was still buried in the first demon’s neck; smoke rose from the blade, and this one’s movements seemed slower than the other’s. He might be able to catch it.

  From the doorway came a rush of black fur. Snarling, a huge wolf crashed into the closest demon.

  Dain swore. Telar.

  His son’s fangs sunk into the demon’s forearm and it thrashed furiously. The demon’s flailing claws struck the wolf’s side. Dain felt a rush of heat as a fountain of white and green fire extended from Luren’s hands toward the second demon as she stepped into the room. The fire engulfed everything above the beast’s torso.

  Jin screamed then. She clutched her shoulder, and Koren’s dagger was crimson with blood.

  Coming to her aid, Telar sprang away from his own demon. He toppled Koren in a frenzy of fang and claw.

  Telar’s demon started to rise, and Dain smashed his glowing tomahawk into its snarling face. It roared and clawed and he pounded it again an
d again. A puff of black, stinging smoke rose with every strike until the face was ruined into a bloody pulp. Dain spun the weapon around, charged it again, and drove the spiked end through its skull.

  With its upper body still engulfed in Luren’s fire, the remaining demon started forward. Jin saw it. Her sword cut through its knees and then she fell, clutching her shoulder. Her blade clattered to the floor. The beast howled and collapsed as the flames died.

  Luren slumped to her knees and gasped for air. Dain staggered over to the demon. Face and arms scorched and blistered, it writhed and howled and clawed at its attacker.

  Dain used the tomahawk’s sharp point to finish this one off, as well. He needed to hurry and help Telar. Koren was too much for him. They had disappeared into Teran’s chamber.

  A ball of torn and bloodied fur suddenly slid across the room. Telar struck the wall with shattering force. He tried to rise, but could only whimper and whine. His head fell, and then he was very still.

  Dain heard Jin scream her brother’s name, and then Koren was on him. Dagger met tomahawk, and in his ribs he felt the sharp sting of her claw. Both sides burned now; one with the broken rib, the other shredded and bleeding.

  Luren was wailing. Jin tried to rise. With the Light he still held, Dain threw the golden elf back.

  If there was a chance to save his family, Koren had to be ended, and he had to do it now. He scooped up Jin’s sword and limped forward. He drew deep on the Light and its raging warmth allowed him to temporarily forget the pain. Sword and tomahawk swirled together, blurring in a ring of whistling steel. With her long dagger, Koren blocked most of the blows. She bled from a ragged tear at her scalp where Telar had bitten her, and another across the jawline where Dain’s tomahawk grazed her.

  “No fancy words for me today, human, not like the last time?” Koren taunted. “Your boy fought harder, before I tore his guts out.”

  Dain’s tomahawk came forward, and pain lanced through his fingers; Koren’s dagger had been waiting. The short axe spun across the room.

  Koren laughed. Dain started to feel the pain in his side again. He tried drawing in more Light, but between what he’d already done and the blood loss, all he managed was a weak trickle.

  “It’s over, human. I can hear my master, calling from his Well.” Koren’s eyes turned toward Teran’s room and the Well beyond. “After I kill you, I will free Baelzeron, and together we will destroy everything you’ve built. I won’t leave so much as a single stone untoppled. I won’t suffer a single wood elf to live.”

  Dagger flying, Koren moved forward. He yielded the ground to her. Her claws had just begun to rake into his stomach when Luren’s lightning flashed and deafening thunder echoed through the room. The bolt struck Koren in a sizzling, purple-white arc. Luren held the spell, face contorted into a snarl, and Dain smelled burning flesh. The golden elf staggered, threw back her head and shrieked, and then the spell rebounded from her into Luren. The young spellcaster fell with a terrible scream.

  Dain felt his hand move to his sword in slow motion, every inch seeming a mile. He was living someone else’s life, fighting someone else’s battle. Someone else’s children lay bloodied and still on the cold stone floor.

  Koren’s eyes shifted toward the Well again, her lips mumbling as if she spoke to someone just out of sight. She didn’t seem to be able to help herself, and she drifted slightly toward the door.

  Forgotten for a moment, Dain used his advantage. His charged sword caught Koren’s elbow and flashed, severing her arm in a spray of blood and spinning her around. Her dagger clattered against the floor, useless.

  Dain saw Jin standing in front of Koren then, and in her hands she held his tomahawk, spike pointing outward. It pulsed and crackled with Light. Koren screamed and tried to raise her hands, but the pointed spike pierced her eye and traveled inward, then inward still.

  Striking from behind, Dain ran his sword up from below her ribcage, driving it through her heart.

  “Just to make sure this time,” he said. He twisted the sword and blood ran down the blade, coating his fist. Koren’s lifeless body dropped with a thump to the stones.

  He couldn’t tell who had reached out first, but when he looked down at his hands, Jin’s were in his.

  As one, they moved—Jin to kneel over Luren’s body and Dain over Telar’s.

  “She’s alive. Her heart is weak,” Jin said, voice wrecked and rasping. “Father, quick, she needs healing.”

  Dain felt the Light grow in Jin as he knelt over Telar. The boy had changed back into his normal form.

  Light flashed behind him, and he heard Jin’s frustrated cry.

  “It isn’t enough! I can’t do it. I can’t draw any more.”

  Dain brushed the hair from his son’s young face. His eyes were glazed over. Even with all the Light in the world, death can’t be healed, remember? an old friend’s voice echoed in his head.

  Dain hadn’t been able to comfort Telar while he took his last breaths. In the end, his son had died violently and alone.

  “I can’t draw any more,” Jin repeated, tears in her voice. “Father, please, what do we do?”

  Luren, I have to save her, Dain thought. Care for the living now, cry for the dead later, his instructors had taught. Cold words. Hard. But true.

  Gently, Dain lowered his son’s head. He pulled himself up and limped to Luren’s side. He prayed as he never had before—not fervently this time, but gently. Quietly. He had no violence left in him.

  He called to the Light. None came. Not even the thinnest of threads.

  Movement nearby drew his attention. Teran had joined them. He too knelt at Luren’s side.

  “For your son I can do nothing,” he said, “but for her, there is a chance. May I?”

  Dain could only nod.

  He felt a strange sensation growing in the ancient elf beside him. It felt like a reflection of the Light, but wrong, twisted somehow. Does it matter, as long as it brings Luren back? How can I face Sera, knowing I didn’t do everything I could to save her?

  A glowing sphere of purple and yellow pulsed in Teran’s hand. The red elf plunged it into Luren’s dying body in one swift movement.

  Her thin chest rose and fell. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped for breath.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Karelian Empire—Twentieth Year of Pelion’s Reign

  The trial was mercifully quick. They held it at the camp, surrounded by the broken remnants of the Emperor’s army.

  Dain was charged with treason; he pled guilty, and the improvised tribunal, all loyal friends of Chalmer, issued their verdict swiftly. Death. Hardly unexpected. Afterward, he was escorted back to the capital under armed guard.

  He rode along now between his four solemn guards, considering his situation. How had things gone so badly? In a way, he was fortunate. Being of noble blood, he could be executed only in the Emperor’s court; even Chalmer dared not break that custom. Dain would have preferred to get it over with.

  “You are stripped of rank,” Chalmer had said after the trial with great satisfaction. Before sending him to the Emperor, Chalmer had torn the Order’s emblems from Dain’s armor and saddlebags.

  “Know that I have won, Gladstone. Your friend Kag may have escaped with the elven queen and her brats, but you’ve accomplished nothing except to delay the inevitable,” the man had said, smiling his shark’s smile.

  “The Order lies in shambles, and we both know who is to blame for that,” Dain had answered. “You’ve destroyed it, sacrificing it like a lamb to gain yourself a kingdom. By rights you should face me in combat. You are a disgrace, and if my wrists were free, even for an instant, I would—”

  One of Chalmer’s men had hit him with the hilt of his sword then. Dain’s last image of the man was his smirk; a look that taunted him the entire
long journey back to Karelton.

  In the capital, he was placed in the Emperor’s dungeons. Shut away from the light of the sun, he had only his white-hot rage to warm him. For two days he waited. He was not fed or given more than a small cup of water. He sagged in his chains, and, thirsty beyond reason, he licked at the damp walls of his cell for a taste of moisture.

  On the third day the Emperor visited him. He came alone. He didn’t wear his silken robes this time, but a dark leather cloak over purple-dyed cotton.

  “I am unable to bow, Majesty,” Dain said. His throat felt like it was packed full of sawdust and metal shavings. He forced himself a little straighter.

  “You’ve caused me quite a lot of trouble,” Pelion said.

  “Sorry,” Dain said. “Hospitality isn’t what I remembered.”

  “I truly regret that it must be so,” Pelion said. He sat down on a small stool at the dank cell’s opposite end. “Doubtless you are unaware of the situation in the capital.”

  “I’ve been indisposed these last few days,” Dain croaked.

  In the cell’s corner was a small bucket of water the guards had placed there to torment him. The Emperor took the bucket’s ladle, stirred the water, and poured it into Dain’s scratched mouth.

  “Better?” Pelion asked.

  Dain nodded.

  “Good. Our conversation will be difficult if you cannot speak. Very one-sided.”

  The Emperor poured a second ladle into Dain’s mouth, the excess water running in rivulets down his neck and into his shirt, then the older man sat down on the stool again.

  “The elves have routed my army. They were so enraged by what Chalmer attempted they’ve sworn to destroy myself and the entire Karelian line. They’ve amassed the bulk of their forces and are halfway to the capital as we speak.”