by D. B. Penner
“This is not the way, Vivyan,” Will pleaded. “Can you not see that the Shadow’s is the path to ruin? Rebellion against the Empire is betraying all that the Academy taught you. It is betraying me.”
“Will, I have no choice. And neither do you. When Boewdard arrives, he and his men will have killed all that oppose him. Cadet, instructor, and serving wench will know the same fate should they refuse to enlist. When Boewdard arrives, he will offer you only two options: join or die. Join with me, Will. Power, fame, and glory, we will have it all. You and me, Will, we can do this together, just as in our lessons, just as in my dreams.”
Power, fame, glory! Will thought with contempt. No, I will never join with these traitors. Vale, can you hear me? I’m trapped on the second floor of East Tower. Beware; they may have an ambush prepared.
“You wound me, Brightflame. Calling for help? You think we have not prepared for an attempted rescue?” Vivyan threatened.
Will hung his head in his chest. A scream sounded downstairs.
“Good, then it is starting,” Vivyan said coolly, relaxing in her chair. Growing louder, the clash of arms clanged awfully in the distance. More screams. Then, men’s shouts joined the terrible chorus. The door creaked open. Expecting help, Will looked up hopefully. Boewdard stepped into the room, and Will’s heart plummeted.
“Come, Vivyan, join the fray,” Boewdard said gleefully. “More recruits will be persuaded to see our point of view if you are seen in our ranks. William, I hope you will understand why I had to do this. When I have I need, I will be back to discuss our next course of action.” The Blademaster’s coal black eyes narrowed maliciously.
Vivyan’s eyes lingered on Will, but she obeyed the Blademaster’s request, leaving him alone in the room and still tied tightly to the chair.
Hearing the two pairs of feet dashing down the corridor, Will saw his window of opportunity open; it was his chance to escape. But before he could utter the words to free himself from his bonds, something large and powerful crashed through the door. Splinters flew through the air as Vale snorted, standing before Will.
Subtle, Will thought as Vale freed him from his bonds with a cautious swipe of his claws.
I could have left you there, the leopard purred.
No, no, you did well.
Freed, Will leaped over the fractured door and into the corridor. Thoughts of revenge flying through his mind, Will sprinted towards the Foyer, but Vale held him back, biting his tunic. Even with your powers, you would not survive the night.
I must save my friends, Will argued, struggling hopelessly against Vale’s restraint. My dream, Will suddenly realized. Vale, this is my dream! He resumed thrashing with renewed force. My father will be here; he needs my help. The Academy will burn tonight, and my father marches into the center of the inferno.
It is too late. The words were said with a finality and bleakness that sobered Will. The boy stopped flailing and stood unresponsive beside his frevmat. Vale nudged Will with his muzzle. We must go lest we are spotted.
Hesitating for a moment in the realization of the horrid truth, Will knew he could not be of assistance to the cadets unarmed. He would be just as helpless before Boewdard’s militia as those he intended to save. Will turned in the direction of the Pit.
“Not so fast, Brightflame,” sounded a voice from behind him. “Brightflame the Warrior, Brightflame the Hero, Brightflame the Invincible. You would deny me contest?” The snarl was filled with angry sarcasm. Turning slowly, Will saw Daniel Ogdin, in human form standing in the Foyer entrance way.
“Running away? The Brightflame’s true colors shine through at last. You’re mine now!” Ogdin said, beginning to transform.
Will turned and fled as fast as he could. Without a weapon, Will would quickly perish before the lycanthrope’s lethal claws.
Vale roared, a mighty sound. Will looked back to see wolf and leopard facing off. Ogdin jumped as if to attack Vale, but cleared the frevmat, shambling on all fours to catch his true prey. Eyes narrowing, Will resumed running, faster than he ever had before, yet still Ogdin was quickly gaining ground on him. In an attempt to slow his pursuer, Will knocked over a suit of armor, but he was far from the safety of the Pit, and the heaps of metal did little to hamper Ogdin’s stride.
Out of the corner of his eye, Will glimpsed a white streak ram into the dark wolf. As Ogdin stumbled, tripping over his long arms, Vale rushed forward, allowing Will to jump on his back. Vale then ran at a pace double Will’s, so fast that Will fancied they were just a blur. Feeling the exertion of Vale’s legs in his own, Will’s courage was steeled by the connection they shared. His frevmat’s sharp intakes of breath were his and for the first time, Will realized how much the snow leopard meant to him--how much Vale was him.
In sight of the Pit, Will leapt off Vale and wrenched open the door. Slamming it behind them, Will relaxed; they were safe for the moment. A group of frightened cadets rushed forward with questions, demanding answers of Will.
“Where are the others?” a muscular recruit demanded.
“The horror! Why?” another bleated.
“Who is behind the assault?”
Will did not have an answer for most of their queries, but knew that they could not survive holed up in the Pit and said as much, “We must leave here now before Boewdard’s men lay siege to the room. Gather weapons, armor, and shields. We will have to fight our way out of the castle. If you can carry it, pack a small bag of clothes and other necessities.”
Immediately, the Lumbertons, who as a rule are not likely to loaf when action can be taken, dispersed. Will gathered his own pack, filling it with clothing. He knew he couldn’t carry all of his plate armor, but he placed his barbute helm on his head, slung his bow over his shoulder, strapped his scabbard to his belt, and hefted his unadorned heater shield in his hand.
Will stepped out into the main room and was met by a grave formation of boys and girls. They were laden with belongings and brandished an array of swords, axes, and bows. These were brave Lumbertons every one of them and were prepared to fight for victory or for death.
Will heard again the screams of dying cadets; he was transported back to his house the day the raiders had come. Will saw his mother fall, then a flaming arrow bury itself into a bandit. Images, sounds, memories all flooded back to him at once, and Will was paralyzed. Vale pawed his leg, bringing Will back to the present.
Furrowing his brows, Will strapped his pack across Vale’s shoulders and took a seat on his muscled back. From his seat, Will surveyed the dismayed Lumbertons.
Art would have been better prepared to lead them, Will thought. He is the one who knows every face in this crowd. He would have found words to inspire them. But Art is not here, and I have no words.
Ever calm, Vale purred. Fear not for these men and women are as brave and loyal as you are. They know you. They trust you. They will follow you into battle. The question is are you ready?
Aye. Tonight, many will know the bite of my blade, Will said with such conviction that he surprised himself. Vale snorted, amused.
Directing his attention to the assembled Lumbertons, Will smiled broadly. The expression was spontaneous, yet effective. The others gathered around him shed their worried looks as faces grew determined instead. “Some of you have trained at this academy longer than I. Some of you are fresh recruits. But all that makes no difference now. This night, all that matters is whether you are prepared to fight, to kill, to die. Answer me! Are you?” Will shouted at them.
A roar of affirmatives greeted his words.
“Do you have the courage necessary to survive the night? Are you men and women of valor and honor? Are worthy of the Lumberton crest upon your tunic?”
“Aye! Let’s go already. I want to get me hands around one of their necks before they’re all dead.” It was Ben.
Gregor, standing beside him, shouted, “All Ben wants is to get out of here before we realize he’s pissed himself in fear.”
“Oy, I have not!”
Will laughed. “Save it for the enemy, boys. We stream out of here on my mark.”
Will readied his shield as Vale approached the exit of their haven. All held their breath as a Will gave signal for the door to be opened. With the door ajar, Will could see a group of black-garbed soldiers at the entrance of the Pit fighting for their lives against the statue of Lumberton’s bear.
Keeping itself between the assailants and the door, the statue had leapt to life to defend the Pit. Swords clanged against its stone body, doing little damage.
Noticing the door opening, an enemy mage directed her attention at Will. Raising his shield, Will recoiled as several projectiles buried themselves in the wood. His eyes flashed red as Vale charged.
The skirmish lasted only a few minutes, and at its end, the rattled Lumbertons stood victorious. A few cadets had fallen, slain in combat, but the majority of them had survived the encounter.
“Are any of ours wounded?” Will asked, trying to take no notice of the corpses around him. Despite his best efforts, however, the stench of blood and death was impossible to ignore. A boy raised his arm; a large gash ran down the side of it. “Heal him, then we move on.” A cadet hurried over to the wounded boy, muttering spells under his breath.
One of Boewdard’s men stirred, groaning. Vale paced over to him and drew a claw across his throat. The man spluttered, fighting for air as he drowned in his own blood. After a moment, he fell silent and did not rise again.
What was that? Will demanded, shocked at the brutality.
He was knocking on death’s door. I helped him along his way, before he could give away our position. Even as he woke, he tried to contact Boewdard with his mind. Luckily, he was too dazed to focus his mind.
Will did not know how to respond, his thoughts interrupted as the healer announced that he had done the best he could. With the wounded mostly healed, Will asked, “Where are the other dormitories? Does any one know?” A third-year cadet stepped forward to answer his call. “Lead us.”
She hurried along quickly, the rest of the party following close at her heels. Down three flights of stairs and through several corridors, she led them. Backing herself against a wall, she stopped. “The Scalefire dormitory is around the corner,” she whispered.
Preparing himself again for battle, Will nodded and urged Vale forward. Quickly turning the corner, they skidded to a halt. Looking at the scene before him, Will felt sick. Five students had been dragged out from their common room and mutilated. Their scarred skin still bled, though the flow was merely a trickle now as most of it already spattered the floor. Will could barely recognize them as people so badly had they been torn apart. And the smell…
Where are the rest? Will asked. Vale hung his head. Hearing sharp footsteps, Will spotted a dark shadow dashing down the next corridor. “Where is the next room? Nobody is here; they are either dead or have joined with the enemy.”
The third-year stepped forward again, “This way.” They trotted on ever faster, nervous of what they might find. After tense minutes of quiet dashing from cover to cover, they stopped again. Around the corner, many voices could be heard shouting.
“Open up and no one will get hurt. Come, my children, come on out,” one oily voice promised.
A few moments later a response was heard, “Never! We will rot in the abyss before we give ourselves up to you animals.” Angry growls came from the men surrounding the Soardale common room. Will sighed; at least some of the cadets here were still alive and fighting.
Will signaled for his band of Lumbertons to creep forward. They cautiously rounded the corner and crept towards the distracted men. The Lumbertons were halfway to the men when the only girl in the crowd of invaders looked around. It was Hostice. With a shout, she alerted the men. Will swore loudly, cursing Hostice’s treachery.
Charging forward before the men had a chance to react, Vale slashed open one man’s chest with his deadly claws. As Vale reared to deliver the fatal swipe, Will fell off his back, landing on his shoulder and rolling to the side.
A dark cloud of smoke surrounded the combatants, confusing and frightening all. Boewdard’s men scrambled about in the pitch-blackness, swinging their blades blindly, and many of the Lumbertons cried out in anguish. The smell of rotting eggs filled his lungs, and Will knew Hostice was using her Shadow Lighter abilities to create a smoke screen.
Engulfed in his own power, Will had a heightened sense of his environment, so much so that he did not need to see to kill. He merely heard the enemy scuffling about and struck.
Several fell to his glittering white sword in that long, dark minute. Vale, too, using his keen senses to attack the men, slew many. Silently and stealthily, the frevmat crept up on his targets, killing them one by one.
Hearing no more shouts, Hostice allowed the smoke to dissipate. Looking around, the traitor was shocked to see the bloody corpses of her comrades lying around her. Her dark skin paled, and her eyes opened wide in fear. The unharmed Lumbertons advancing, Hostice darted out of reach before Will could grab her.
Before she was out of range, Will threw a knife at her retreating back. The small dagger glanced off her cheek. Hostice screamed in pain, but continued to run, disappearing around a corner.
Two recruits made to pursue, but Will extended his arm, holding them back. “We stick together.” Turning to the wall, Will shouted, “Any of you spell casters seeking to survive the night?”
Stones shifted on their own accord, and a young girl tentatively stuck her head out of the Soardale common room, suspecting some sort of trick.
“Brightflame, it’s you!”
“Come out. As you can see, our enemy is very much dead,” Will said, indicating the mangled bodies with his sword.
Signaling to her fellow Soardales, the spell casters gathered in the corridor. Some took one look at the dead bodies and turned to go back into the relative safety of their common room. “Hold!” Will told them, “If you turn tail and flee back to your beds, you will not live to see another day. We must abandon the castle immediately. Boewdard and his troops serve the Shadow Liberator, and they will kill each and every one of us unless we join them. I know not your intentions, but I will not join them and I will not die, not tonight. Follow us out of the castle. Gather your supplies; we leave presently.”
Soardales shuffled back into the room and returned soon enough with their packs and bags. Slowly, the sound of marching feet grew louder from the direction of the Foyer.
“Run! Is there another way out?” Will shouted, starting off on foot. The same girl that had led them before ran ahead, guiding them down a multitude of hallways. Flinging open a door, she exited the castle and stopped in the yard, waiting for Will’s order.
“Fly, fly to the stables and leave, head for the mountains to the north. I will meet you there as soon as I can. If I do not show, break camp by dawn and continue the retreat,” Will instructed the frightened cadets.
“We will not leave you behind, Brightflame,” a Lumberton cadet protested loudly.
“I will follow your trail when I can. Just keep riding north and post sentries when you sleep.”
What are you doing? Vale asked. He knew of course, the leopard had direct access to Will’s mind, but some things needed to be said aloud.
Come with me, Vale. To the front entrance and into the Foyer, we need to find Art.
You are mad, child, but your loyalty is inspiring. We shall save Art.
Ben and Gregor stepped forward to embrace their friend, and then the cadets and Will ran in their separate directions. Will allowed his mind to be overtaken by the Furialist power once again as he padded through the courtyard.
“Brightflame!” came a hushed whisper in the dark. “Come here, boy.” It was Nailfram, crouching behind a shrub. His frevmat, Gollemp, slinked into view, taking care to avoid torchlight in which it might be spotted.
Will skidded to a halt and ducked low, taking cover next to the alchemist.
“What are you doing?” Nailfr
am hissed. “Leave this castle while you still can!”
“I have to find Art,” Will said stubbornly.
“He’s dead, boy. Everyone is dead in there.”
“I cannot accept that.”
Nailfram nodded, his ugly face as unreadable as stone. “Very well. If you are here to fight, you must listen to me first.” He wiped a strand of lank hair from his forehead already beaded with sweat, rambling in a muffled voice, “The men here tonight, Boewdard’s men, the Liberated Army, they aren’t here just to ‘liberate’ a new class of initiates. They have come for the Void Gauntlets.”
“The what?”
“The Void Gauntlets. The Shadow Liberator has discovered that they were in my possession, only the gods know how. But he has it in his mind that the Gauntlets will make him invincible, that they are the key to finally unlocking the shadows he threatens to release into Gammalgard.
“Now, while I cannot in good faith guarantee invincibility, possession of the Gauntlets will bestow upon the Shadow a great power. Anyone who dons the Void Gauntlets receives that gift, but there is a prophecy that tells of a time when the Gauntlets will return to their true master, to the One worthy of wielding them. This man would be granted unthinkable strength, perhaps even the ability to destroy the world. You cannot let the Gauntlets fall into Boewdard’s hands tonight. We cannot risk the Shadow fulfilling the prophecy. No matter what else happens, you must keep the Gauntlets safe.”
“Well, have you got them on you?” Will asked.
“No, they are hidden away in Gollemp’s den. He will guide you to them. I fear we may not have much time before Boewdard recovers the Gauntlets. You must go now.”
“What about Art?”