Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

Thibalt did not risk another visit to his brother thereafter. The ship made the remainder of its journey without any further delays. For the time being they had been able to avoid any further confrontations with Nyrune's savage power.

  A warm southerly wind soon filled the air carrying with it fresh scents that Thibalt had never smelled. He stuck his head out over the side of the ship taking in the new air. It was however glaringly obvious that the Miirvkin did not share his enthusiasm. The soldiers that watched him spat onto the deck and shook their heads in disgust. Reinar had been wrong. Regardless of what he did during this raid, he would never be accepted by the people of Hamal.

  Then came the cry from the lookout, sounding the call from the crows nest that land had been sighted on the horizon. They had sailed almost directly south east from Hamal and had arrived close to a hundred miles south of the massive Feldonian city of Andron. The crew rushed up from below and gathered on the deck to catch the first glimpse of Feldom. It had been eighteen years since the last raid and for many of the soldiers onboard this was their first sighting of the mainland.

  The coastline drew closer and Reinar ordered the longboats strapped to the side of the Iron Stride lowered. The raiders streamed over the railing to land in the sturdy transports. They cast off swiftly, knowing the importance of surprise, and made their way to the pale sandy beach.

  "Beautiful!" was the only thing that Thibalt could mumble as he stepped off the longboat and onto the beach. The warm, soft sand trickled in between his toes and into his sandals and he felt a strange sense of peace come over him. From here he could see past the short shoreline where lush green fields lay, dotted with carpets of golden flowers and copses of tall trees that reached high to the sky. He had heard of the beauty and fertility of Feldom, but he had never imagined it to be so breathtaking. The contrast of this lush, verdant land with Miirvk was startling.

  A second longboat crashed onto the beach, and out of it came Reinar followed closely by the remaining soldiers. Amongst them Thibalt spotted Cathan in his prize armour, dragging Christill behind him. Christill's hands were shackled and a coarse rope was tied tightly around his neck. Cathan pulled Christill along the beach roughly, taking great pleasure in the humiliation. Thibalt saw the pain in Christill's expression and was forced to control his own temper.

  "The village is a mile north of here, over that hill," Reinar said, pointing to a rocky hilltop. "We will move together as one. We will strike as one, and at my command we shall leave as one." He stared deep into the eyes of the heavily armed soldiers standing before him. "We are honourable men. No women or children will be harmed or taken advantage of, on penalty of death. We are here to claim prizes for our families. Take what you wish, and pray to Beon for the strength to return home."

  The soldiers all nodded in agreement and began moving up the beach towards the hill with eager steps. The excitement was thick amongst the raiders after having being confined on the Iron Stride. Thibalt stayed as close to Christill as he could without drawing unwanted attention. He could see that each step caused Christill pain. His tunic and trousers were filthy and his body still bore the marks of the wounds inflicted by the Irian that had not fully healed. He was now being herded along by a gruff raider who carried a large maul in his other hand. Cathan had moved to the head of the group, insisting that he be amongst the first to spill blood.

  As the raiders crested the top of the hill, they stopped and stared out into the distance. Reinar reached the top and checked to see why they had stopped and found his arms falling dejectedly to his sides. Past the rolling fields lay a small village of no more than fifty houses, but not as it had always been. The entire town and surrounding farmlands lay in ruin, burnt down to the ground. No sign of life remained, only a shell of blackened desolation.

  The soldiers stood on the top of the hill, glaring at the charred remains of the town which was to be their target. Thibalt was standing next to Reinar and overheard his foster father mumble, "Unbelievable!" under his breath.

  "Listen to me," Reinar then yelled at the soldiers. "We will find a new target. I will take a few men with me down to the village. The rest will follow Cathan back to the longboats. Await our return."

  Although reluctant, the raiders acknowledged his commands and began to tread back down to the beach. Reinar picked out ten soldiers and motioned for Thibalt and Christill to stay. The group then began a slow jog down the hill towards the ruined town to investigate the scene of destruction.

  Moving cautiously they reached the burnt out remains of the town. They passed through the blackened streets silently. So strong a fire had roared through the village that nothing had escaped. Much of the rubble still glowed with heat, sending thin tendrils of smoke into the air. The streets they moved through were strewn with charred corpses and broken furniture that had flown from the houses during the destruction. The sight was overwhelming and Thibalt could not help but retch as he paused to see the charred bodies.

  "Who would commit such a horrendous act of violence?" asked Reinar as he scanned the town.

  Christill let out a bitter laugh. "You came here to do the very same."

  Reinar ignored the taunt. "I have not heard of such an atrocity since the wars of old. When the Dargonian armies sailed down the Sea of Turmoil and laid siege to the western coast. But that was long ago. Dargon no longer holds such power."

  They found no explanation amongst the ruins. Everything was too burnt or crumbled to leave any signs. It was as if the culprits had not even set foot in the town. Many of the corpses still lay amongst the ashes of their beds, the fire having swept through their houses too swiftly.

  Reinar turned and grabbed Thibalt by the shoulder. He then walked over to Christill and took the rope that was attached to his neck. "Follow me," he ordered and then led them through the town to the blackened frame of a small building.

  Once out of earshot he gripped the boys by their shoulders and said, "I have kept the truth from you until now. This is the town in which you two were found."

  The brothers were so utterly shocked that they could not reply. Neither wanted to believe Reinar's words, least of all Christill.

  Christill and Thibalt both stepped away from Reinar.

  "You are lying," Christill said angrily. "You just want to hurt and punish me."

  "No! This is the town that you were taken from." Reinar replied, pointing to the ruins in front of them. "I thought to make Thibalt prove himself a Miirvkin by fully forsaking his heritage. Where better to achieve this than your birthplace?"

  Christill gasped, "You are deranged!"

  "You are no better than the savages that caused this carnage," added in Thibalt.

  Reinar turned from the brothers, his face betraying his unease.

  Thibalt felt his anger towards Reinar soar. He turned to Christill who stood, hands shackled, filthy and fatigued. A prisoner of his own father. He understood the emotions that his brother had expressed over the last few weeks. At first he had been shocked by his brother's sudden loathing of the Miirvkin, but now he shared it. They did not belong on Miirvk. They had been living a false life on that wasteland that they had tried to call home. An entire life struggling to be accepted, only to be cast out.

  This was where they truly belonged. He shifted his gaze towards the horizon and saw the fertile valleys that made up this part of the western coast of Feldom. Colourful trees lay clumped along the countryside displaying their luscious foliage. Simply staring at it once more brought a sense of peace to Thibalt's troubled mind. Yes, this was where he would be truly at home.

  Christill looked over at Thibalt and saw the glint in his eye. He knew that Thibalt finally understood. He walked over to his brother, Reinar allowing them a moment, and placed his shackled hands on his shoulders. "Will you help me?" he whispered.

  Thibalt looked deep into Christill's eyes and once again saw the brother that he had always known. "Yes," he replied quietly, gripping Christill's hand firmly. "Let's go battle the gods." He glanced
over at Reinar, whose eyes were inspecting the burnt wreckage around them. Acting as swiftly as possible, he unsheathed his knife and sliced through the rope around Christill's neck in one quick swipe. Instantly the two were off, running hard through the town.

  Reinar, taken by surprise, had barely enough time to call for the rest of his soldiers before he was forced to take off after the boys.

  They ran swiftly through the scene of destruction, however Christill found it difficult to keep up with the shackles around his wrists. They reached the edge of the village and began to climb a small rise that lay at the eastern border of the town. Just before they reached the top they turned to see how far their pursuers were, but were surprised to see no one following them. Without a second thought they continued up the slope.

  Reaching the top first, Thibalt gave out a loud cry and toppled backwards into Christill. The brothers rolled back halfway down the rise before they regained their balance.

  "What in the planes are you doing?" cried Christill, rubbing his sore chin. He looked at Thibalt who was staring wide eyed up the rise. Turning in the same direction, Christill nearly lost his footing once more.

  On the top of the rise stood a group of soldiers mounted on tall brown stallions. He counted nine of them, adorned in worn silver chain shirts, their coloured capes flapping behind them with the wind. They wore leather caps from which their neat blonde and brown hair flowed freely. Christill at the same time feared and admired the soldiers. Yet, most of all, they gaped at the sight of the horses, of which they had only ever heard. The strong, battle trained mounts neighed and flared their nostrils at Thibalt and Christill. In unison the soldiers drew long, single handed swords from sheaths on their mounts.

  "Don't make any sudden movements," pleaded Thibalt to Christill. He removed the axe from his back, placed it on the ground and backed away from it. Christill followed his brother's example and raised his hands.

  The mounted soldiers began to trot slowly down the rise until they reached the brothers. Two of the soldiers moved behind Thibalt and Christill and placed swords at the their necks. A brown haired soldier with a thin moustache and a dark blue cape moved forward, separating himself from the rest of the soldiers. His face showed the marks of several old wounds and stared down at them with mistrust. Raising his gloved hand he made a three fingered signal and instantly five of the soldiers broke off from the group and galloped towards the city.

  "Speak only when I ask, and make your answers quick," the soldier commanded, in a strong foreign accent. "Understood?"

  Thibalt and Christill nodded.

  "Where are you from? And how many more of you are there?"

  Thibalt looked at Christill and motioned for him to answer. "We come from Miirvk. We were a group of many, but we are currently fleeing from them."

  "Why do you flee?"

  "We are born of this land, my lord. Thus we seek refuge from our captors," Christill said quickly. Thibalt simply nodded his agreement.

  The man began to stroke his moustache with his gloved fingers and lowered his brow as he considered the information. He studied both of them and focused for a long while on the shackles around Christill's hands. "You will address me as Captain, not lord, and we shall soon see if your story is true." He turned to the soldier on his left and said, "Bind them."

  The soldier slid from his mount and began tying Thibalt's hands together. He then walked over to Christill and began laughing. "Looks like someone already got to this one," he said lifting up Christill's hands to show the other soldiers the shackles. The other men joined in the laughter. All except for the Captain, whose face betrayed no sign of mirth.