Brightflame Accension (Book 1)

by D. B. Penner

  The Academy, once a proud stronghold, was little more than a smoldering wreck. Turrets had fallen crushing the courtyard, and the outer walls had been crushed. Though much of the castle’s majestic outer buildings had been tarnished by battle, the keep still stood as strong as ever.

  Arriving on the grounds, Will dismounted Soulfire. He saw a familiar figure waddling as fast as he could to meet them, a portly man with a large, walrus moustache.

  “Just in time, William, just in time. Your father has given me orders to escort you to him the very moment you arrive. Hurry, if I understand correctly, this directive is of the utmost importance,” Harold said in a whining voice.

  “Take us to him,” Will said, pleased to know that he would see his father again for the first time in two years.

  As Harold led them into the Foyer, Will and Ehan gasped. Will was shocked because the Foyer was ruined. Blood no longer spattered the floor, but the beautiful tapestries had been torn and ripped off the walls, leaving the stone plain and unadorned.

  Ehan was even more surprised at the appearance of the Foyer than Will. The Flatland Rider looked round at the glory of the enormous room in awe; Sashans were not accustomed to permanent buildings, and in the face of such displays of wealth, Ehan was awestruck, even if the building was a mere shadow of its former magnificence.

  Matthew approached them from a torch-lit corridor. With a small smile, Will gulped and ran to him. They embraced each other. Ehan snorted at the display.

  “It gladdens my heart to see you alive, son,” Matthew Stormhand said jovially. “And look at you, emberling! Strong as an aurochs.” His eyes found Vale and in those orbs of cool blue, a tender look grew. “He’s bigger than Lumina. I pray he is a fit companion for my son. You will tell me the story of your bond soon. But now,” he said, becoming grave, “an assembly of all the great Imperial lords awaits us. They hail from all corners of the Empire to discuss pressing matters concerning the future of the war against the Shadow Liberator. We are to observe. Come with me.”

  “Father, my hand. What has happened to me?” Will removed the Gauntlet that hid his new scars.

  “You… You killed one.” It was a statement, not a question. Matthew’s face was that of sincerest shock.

  “How did you know?”

  “That is the mark that grows on those Furialists that have killed one of their own kind. Normally, it is a cursed mark and one that bore it would be despised, but today it is proof that the Hunters can be defeated. You give me hope, succeeding where I have failed all these years.” Will opened his mouth to speak, but Matthew interrupted him, “Come, the Emperor, gifted as he is, was not endowed with much patience.”

  They walked in silence. Will looked at his father, seeing a change. Matthew’s gait was uncharacteristically stiff though, as usual, it remained purposeful. Will could only assume his father was nervous and fearful of what was to come and also of that which had passed. But, whatever Matthew Stormhand felt was nothing to the sense of loss that Will felt knowing Art was a captive of the Hunters.

  They arrived at a nondescript door guarded by two fully-armored knights, and Matthew stopped. He took a deep breath, seeming to settle his thoughts, and entered the room.

  Will and Ehan filed in and stood behind Matthew in the center of the room. “General Stormhand, be seated,” a middle-aged man said with commanding air. Will recognized him. He had seen a portrait of the man hanging in Baruktaråg’s classroom. And now, in person, Will found that the graying hair and stern expression were unmistakable.

  “Excuse me, Emperor, I do not intend to cause delay,” Matthew said, kneeling for a short moment before taking a seat between a pair of golden-bearded lords. Will looked around him and saw Modwyn seated along the wall along with twenty other stately highborn men and Baruktaråg, the dwarf, who wore a bandage concealing his left eye. Baruktaråg smiled at Will from the corner of the room.

  “My lords, Your Highness,” Ehan said gravely. “I have been dispatched by my father, the Sashan Warlord of the Hillbreaker Band. Ehan Lancerunner of the Flatlanda, at your service.” Ehan bowed his head and placed a fist over his heart.

  “Of the Hillbreaker Band? I accept your fealty, Sashan Ehan. Your tribe holds much influence among the bands. Please, take a seat,” the Emperor said tactfully. “And you, Master Stormhand. What is your story? I am told that one named the Brightflame took command of the surviving recruits and escaped. Modwyn tells me that you have adopted this moniker.”

  “I have; it was I who led the cadets out of the castle as Boewdard’s men slaughtered all they could find.”

  “Yet, not all survived. What happened when Boewdard seized the castle? How did he do it? My men have found bodies of a hundred of cadets or more, yet not all died in the raid. If they did not escape with you and did not escape to the next life, where have they gone? Joined their former Blademaster, I believe. Is this assumption true?” the Emperor pondered.

  Will bowed politely and ignoring the questions put to him, began, “My lords, one of my close friends has been taken.”

  “Taken? Taken by whom?” the Emperor said with irritation.

  “Arthur Tableground, he set out from the Plains traveling with Ehan and me. We were ambushed by the Five Hunters.”

  Sharp intakes of breath sounded around the room, and one man cried out, “How could you survive? No boy could fend off the Five and live. It must be farce! General Stormhand, has your pup the stones to lie to the Emperor’s face?”

  “Why capture the Messenger Knight’s boy? Taken alive you say?” mused the Emperor.

  “Yes, we survived. I fought the Hunters as my friends lay their unconscious captives. I slew one of them, and Vale clawed the leader in the face.”

  “Preposterous! You killed one of the Shadow’s Hunters,” the doubter exclaimed.

  Turning to the man, Will stared hotly into his droopy basset-hound face, saying defiantly, “Aye, I killed him. You will find his body and those of their hounds one day’s ride from here, but if proof is your desire, behold.” Will removed his gauntlet and extended his hand, bearing the tattoo for all in the room to see. “I managed to rescue Ehan, but was too late to save Art. They carried him away,” Will looked at his feet.

  “Those gauntlets boy,” the Emperor said intently, leaning forward. “How did you come by them?”

  Will cocked his head. Could the Emperor recognize them as the Void Gauntlets? he thought frantically.

  Do not tell him, Vale advised.

  “The gauntlets, your Highness? They are… they were-”

  Matthew interrupted, “Those gauntlets are a family heirloom, Emperor. Hardly the most pressing matter now.”

  “Of course,” agreed the Emperor absent-mindedly. He stroked his pale cheek thoughtfully before returning his attention to the assembly. “The young Stormhand, or should I say the Brightflame, speaks truth. His mark demonstrates his honesty and his loyalty to the Empire. He has slain one of the Five. Though, it is curious,” the Emperor pondered. “The Five do not take captives; that is not how they work. Yet, now they have, and I am left wondering, why?” he stated more to himself than to anybody specifically. Snapping out of his reverie, the Emperor continued, “But to my questions, boy. It is unbecoming to keep an Emperor waiting.”

  Will then answered the Emperor’s questions, speaking in a soft voice. He told the entire story, from the Formal through his stay in the Sasha Plain. The Emperor frequently interrupted, mostly to make inquiries about Boewdard. When Will finished, he knelt before the Emperor and rose.

  “Before you take your seat, tell the assembly which cadets you saw defect to the Shadow Liberator’s army.”

  Will looked at the expectant crowd, hesitating. Vale nudged Will’s hand.

  “Your Highness, my lords. I can only identify three, though I know more must have joined the Liberated Army.”

  “The names, boy,” the Emperor prompted.

  “There was the Shadow Lighter, Hostice of Wittenstaak.”

  The c
rowd nodded understandingly. A few leaned forward in anticipation of the other names.

  “The Lycanthrope, Daniel Ogdin.”

  The Emperor brushed his hand through his hair dismissively. “The last remnant of a disgraced Bloodline. He will be dealt with. The final name?”

  “She orchestrated the entire coup. The Weaver, Vivyan Payne.”

  The room burst into uproar. Lords leapt to their feet, drawing their weapons and shouting threats across the room to the one man who had remained seated.

  “Seize him!” shouted one of the golden-bearded lords next to Matthew.

  “Very interesting,” the Emperor murmured. “Be seated, all of you! Let us hear what Lord Payne has to say for his daughter.”

  Lord Payne, a thin man with well-groomed hair, got to his feet slowly. His surcoat bore his Bloodline’s coat of arms, a red cat rearing on a black field. In a clear baritone, Lord Payne spoke, “If this account is true, then Vivyan has betrayed the Empire. Do not perceive her misguided actions as a reflection of her Bloodline allegiance. The Paynes have been loyal to the Imperial Line from the beginning and will remain as such now. Our words are ‘Protect your own.’ It saddens me that Vivyan has abandoned this creed and chose a path that wounds her entire family, myself more than any other.”

  “Do you renounce the traitor Vivyan? Will you pursue her to the fullest extent of your power? Can you execute her as the villain she is?” the Emperor asked, arching his thin eyebrows.

  Lord Payne swallowed. “Aye.”

  “Very well, take your seat. Let no man here question Lord Payne’s devotion to the Imperial will. The actions of these traitors, Vivyan along with the others, cannot be abided. We must stop the Liberated Army from growing. Yet, as you all know, the Shadow Liberator is still at large, his Hunters roam my Empire freely, and his army grows in strength by the day. There must be a way to stop the chaos. One cannot help but believe that if the Shadow Liberator succeeds in his mission, Imperial power will crumble and the Empire will disintegrate. This would leave our people defenseless against hordes of enemies, many of whom at this moment in time remain faceless.

  “No more is he a minor annoyance. This man who calls himself the Shadow Liberator poses a severe threat to the Empire, one capable of infiltrating any keep or so it would appear. I demand that the Shadow be stopped for the sake of the Empire.” The Emperor let his words take effect. “To combat him and his guerilla army, we must test a new strategy, a theory of mine that, if correct, will put an end to the insurrection. I will send out a party of my own ‘hunters’ to stop the Liberator of Shadows. At this point, I would have you, William Brightflame and Sashan Ehan, leave as we discuss which warriors might take part in this most important of quests,” the Emperor said, waving his hand in dismissal.

  “I beg you consider the plight of Arthur as you make deliberations,” Will said as they exited the assembly room.

  Ehan nodded gravely, but, as was his nature, said nothing. Outside of the council chamber, Vale rubbed against Will’s side comfortingly. Restless, Will turned to an armed knight standing guard at the door.

  “Of the staff, who fought for whom? Baruktaråg and Modwyn supported the Empire I have seen, but what of the others?” Will asked. He could not imagine any of his teachers fighting for the Liberator of Shadows.

  The knight stroked his goatee with a gauntleted hand, answering, “Wadsworth died, along with at least ten of his griffins, preventing the enemy’s pursuit of the retreating children. His frevmat was found wounded by his side, and she passed shortly after we marched onto the grounds. Revia, the healer, is tending to our men still wounded from the siege. Nailfram, a good friend of mine, died as well. Bless his soul. He was found in the courtyard. I suppose he died fighting so that the cadets could escape.” The guard proceeded to list a few other names that Will did not know.

  It sounds as if half the instructors joined the Shadow, Vale remarked.

  I know. What disturbs me is that many here I trusted are dead or had planned to betray us to the Liberated Army the whole time. Vivyan must have known who they all were. Will clenched his fists, his anger bubbling whenever he thought of Vivyan. He hated her. He hated how she had lied to them. How she had lied to him.

  An hour passed before the lords and Emperor emerged from the room. The Emperor turned down the hall and strode away without a word. The guard and most of the men in the assembly followed. Left standing in the hall were Will, Ehan, Matthew, Baruktaråg, Modwyn, and three other men Will did not know.

  “Four Imperials, one Flatland Rider, one dwarf, and two Furialists off on a desperate quest to kill the most wanted man in all of Gammalgard. But, there are other motives behind the hunt. Two seek to rescue their lost friend. Two, to bring honor to their races. And four, to keep the others in line and focused. What a grand tale they will tell of us!” Modwyn stated happily. “What beautiful songs they will sing of our victory!”

  “You peer into the hearts of others without thought,” Matthew scolded. “You would do best to shut your mouth before you find trouble.”

  Baruktaråg tightened grip on his axe beside Matthew. Modwyn flushed. The nameless Imperials’ knuckles grew white on the pommels of their swords. The standoff lasted for only a moment, but Will imaged that he could feel the tension in his lungs the air was so heavy with it.

  With a fluttering of cloaks, Matthew and Baruktaråg strode off in the direction of the courtyard, whispering softly to each other. Will and Ehan glared at the men suspicious before they stomped off as well. Modwyn shrugged and strutted after the boys.

  “We ride for Slyminia tonight. Gather supplies, you four, we will stake out a path,” Matthew said to the Imperial men and Modwyn as he unrolled a painted map. Baruktaråg whispered something in Matthew’s ear to which Matthew nodded affirmatively. When the men had stalked off, Matthew gestured for Will and Ehan to approach.

  “Lord Payne offered three knights for the mission, to make amends for his daughter’s transgression. If the Emperor thinks them necessary to the hunt, we must tolerate them. However, do not confide in nor trust them. A Payne will always protect his own. The fourth I do not know. He is very young.”

  “Modwyn is a good man. As my Master-at-Arms, he has taught me much,” Will objected.

  Matthew said nothing for a moment. “So, the Brightflame, eh? How did you come up with that?”

  Will looked sheepish. “Apologies, father. It was the griffin that first called me Brightflame, and then Art used the name as I dueled. After that, it stuck.”

  “Do not apologize. It is a name fit for a hero. Besides, you don’t think Stormhand is a family name do you?”

  Will did. Matthew saw the look on his son’s face and laughed. “No, before I came to the Empire permanently I was called Mattias, son of Groltoc. The Imperials changed my name to sound less foreign and thereby, more fit to lead their army. My men dubbed me Stormhand, having seen my abilities. Our people do not have surnames as the families of the Empire do. We are known only for our own deeds, not for the fame of our ancestors. Every man is his own man.”

  “Tell me more about the Furialists.” Will had a great many questions about his father’s people.

  “We must get on the road first, son. Then, I will reveal all.”

  Baruktaråg retrieved a folded map from within his pocket and laid it over his knee. “Will, what do you and Ehan plan on doing? How will you rescue Arthur from the Hunters?”

  “I cannot say exactly. I had thought that you might help us with that,” Will said, gazing at the map over the dwarf’s shoulder.

  “We will remain with the party for a time, giving Will time to train with the Stormhand, then dispatch to defeat the remaining four Hunters,” Ehan answered confidently.

  “A fine plan,” a voice said from behind them. Smiling, Modwyn approached, laden with supplies, followed by the three Imperials who also bore heavy packs.

  Matthew furrowed his eyebrows and snatched his own pack, striding away. The company spent the rest of the da
y packing their horses in silence. Will did not recognize Matthew’s horse, though it bore close resemblance to Soulfire. Will looked at the new mount with interest.

  “Custard sired him three years ago. When you left, Will, I travelled to retrieve him,” Matthew explained. Ehan approached with an expression of contempt on his face.

  “I will admit that the Furialist stallions are of higher quality of than the Imperial nags, but these horses you breed are too fat and too slow. My people’s steeds can gallop at twice the speed of yours and for three times as long.”

  “Sashan, battles in the Empire are not the lightening strikes you have participated in on the flatlands,” Matthew grinned. “On this side of the mountains, you want a hearty beast under you, one that can carry armor and withstand the shock of a joust.”

  Ehan looked skeptical, but did not argue further.

  That night, the party rode into the darkness. Matthew and Baruktaråg had decided it safer to ride by night and out of sight of any that might warn the Liberated Army of their movement.

  Will was weary of the road. The beauty of the roadside shrubbery was lost in the long hours of night. The moon had not been shining brightly since they had started out, and tall trees lining the pathways obstructed the stars. The darkness swallowed everything else. Will could tell that they were passing through mountains by the cold climate and thin air, but beyond that his sense of geography was foggy. The more he disengaged with the outside world, the more Will sunk into depression.

  During the long night of travel, Will and Vale conversed about the Shadow Liberator’s guerrilla war. But, always in the back yet often in the front of his mind was the memory of Art’s capture. Despite Vale’s belief that Will could not have done any more for his friend, Will could not forgive himself for missing that second throw.

  Concerned, Matthew saw this self-blame and struck up conversation with Will, trying to keep his son’s mind from dark thoughts.

  “Your mother is well.”

  Will smiled, remembering the warm eyes and kind heart of Elizabeth. “She did not care to ride to battle with you?”