Revenant

by Fergal F. Nally

  He stood as Saheleith, Voice of the Erthe; a towering behemoth, quivering in anticipation of blood and violence. Invisible to those on the walls, to all around. Until the first strike.

  Then they appeared; the necromancers’ war daemons, unleashed from the hells of the astral plain. He tasted them, smelled their stench. The earth trembled, the soil boiled, his blood ran cold.

  Saheleith started the killing; it felt good.

  Wave upon wave of astral daemons erupted from the ground, frenzied claw and fang tore indiscriminately at anything, everything. Undead bodies were flung aside, torn and shredded, masonry fell, the city walls crumbled, men fell to their deaths.

  Over two hundred daemons emerged from the astral plane, those with wings took to the air and spat fire and acid on those below. The battle for New Haven descended into chaos.

  Saheleith, Voice of the Erthe, waded in, becoming one with his anger and loss. He used his voice and tore through the enemy, shattering bone and skull, they fell to the gore soaked mud of the battlefield.

  Swathes of undead were swept aside. Saheleith cleared a large area with his claws and the power of his voice. Then a host of winged daemons attacked from the air, raining sheets of incandescent flame. Saheleith caught fire, his body burned brightly, he became visible.

  Soldiers standing further along the walls stared, questioning their sanity. The flaming beast that was Saheleith stood in clear view, men struggled to understand what they saw. A beast of nightmare proportions, resembling dragons of old, yet not of dragon kind.

  Screams of fear and madness filled the air. A score of winged daemons alighted on Saheleith’s back, immune to their own flame. Their claws raked and slashed at Saheleith’s hide, drawing blood. Saheleith roared and reared upwards, throwing the tormentors off his back, his blood sizzled angrily, dripping onto the fallen daemons, destroying their flesh in an orgy of death.

  Saheleith stretched out his wings and took to the air, his voice crushing those left below. A further wave of daemons burst from the ground, the birthing process an ordeal in itself. Some of the daemon spawn were stillborn, incomplete or conjoined.

  The necromancers were weakening.

  Saheleith flew back and forth over the battlefield, his voice shredding those below. In less than fifteen minutes the battlefield stilled, growing quiet. The astral daemons had been killed or had fled. Burning bodies littered the ground around Saheleith.

  His eyes narrowed, he threw himself forwards through the air heading to the north side of the city; the battle for the northern gate still raged there. Men’s flags and tattered standards hung defiantly from the gate tower; its rear-guard clinging on valiantly.

  Again he found undead and scores of daemons; the enemy had breached the gates and entered the northern quarter of the city. Reglis’s mines had dealt a terrible blow on the horde, hundreds lay dead, blown to pieces in the killing ground that once was the northern quarter.

  Saheleith flew over the northern walls and fields destroying and chasing daemon after daemon, after a further twenty minutes he returned to the city skies searching for remaining foes. Something glinted in the gardens catching his eye.

  He closed in on the gardens and saw the king’s colours on the island in the lake. Saheleith manoeuvred his bulk effortlessly through the air with his great wings and landed on the island beside a fallen group of knights.

  The sun glinted brightly on Reglis’s dented helm lying on the ground, beside his body. He had died a warrior, in battle, surrounding him lay ten fallen enemy. A spear had finally done for the king finding its soft mark through his visor.

  He was not perfect, reflected Saheleith but he deserved better than this. Men were flawed, imperfect, born to die and fail, every now and again one would shine and burn brightly, bringing light to the world. New Haven lay flaming and wounded, many of her citizens dead, gone forever, but a lot of strength remained here and in the Erthe.

  The necromancers had been defeated, this time. As with all darkness, they or others like them, would eventually return in the cycle of light and dark. Saheleith had done his work, he knew the time was coming to return home, to reunite with his love, his Erthe.

  He looked down and saw his bulk and shadow dissipate and fade. It had been good to revisit this mortal body, if but for a brief time. The visceral feeling of mortality, blood and bone was always a thrill as was the killing, his job as guardian and Voice of the Erthe was done. She was calling, he would return.

  Saheleith’s form shimmered in the afternoon sun, becoming translucent. He lifted his face to the light, letting it wash over and through him. He blinked and in that moment was gone.

  Chapter 42: Reunion

  Thomas saw the harbour in the distance.

  So many unknowns, a lifetime since he had seen Liliana and the girls. Would they be there? Would they be safe?

  His heart was pounding, his palms sweating. He felt more fearful than at any time in the last few weeks… not knowing. He had fought for his life for so long and now… his future lay somewhere in that small settlement, on this remote island.

  Their ship neared the harbour, he could see people gathering on the dockside. The cutter limped into the calm water, the Kracken aftermath obvious; torn mainsail, smashed gunwale and rock-damage amidships. The cutter was listing to port but still sailed gamely along.

  Thomas’s eyes searched the crowd. A hundred people crowded the harbour, news had spread quickly. Skovar and Fin moved around the deck making the cutter ready for docking. The sail came down, ropes were thrown to eager hands on the pier. Soon they were alongside, moored safely.

  “What news?” a voice from the crowd shouted.

  “Look it’s Skovar! What news from home? Does Leerma still stand?”

  Fear and hope hung in the air.

  Fin stepped onto the pier and was embraced by a man. The emotion of the moment was too much for the boy and he broke down, crying.

  “Leerma is gone, she no longer stands. They’ve left nothing, everyone is dead,” Fin sobbed.

  A collective groan went up from the harbour, people stood in shock; they had left Leerma just before the attack. A woman started wailing at the back of the crowd, Fin stood awkwardly on the pier. A dog barked, the spell was broken.

  “Come on, we’ll get you dry clothes and hot food, you can tell us everything,” the man said.

  Thomas and Skovar stepped off the cutter. Thomas approached the man and clasped his arm.

  “I’m Thomas, Jarl of Elverium. Have you seen my wife and daughters?”

  The man looked wide eyed at Thomas and was silent for a moment, nonplussed. Thomas held his gaze with a burning intensity, the noise of the crowd fell away.

  “My Lord?” was all the man could manage.

  “Thomas? ” a woman’s voice shouted from the harbour wall. “Thomas? Is that you?”

  He looked up onto the high wall and saw a familiar face. Liliana stood silhouetted against the azure sky, beside her… his two girls. He almost fell on the spot, his legs weak, his body shaking. Something broke inside him at that moment and something healed.

  “Liliana! ” he shouted, pushing his way through the crowd.

  Liliana climbed down from the wall and dropped to the harbour side. They embraced fiercely. All around them the crowd pressed in.

  “I thought I’d lost you my love,” Liliana whispered in his ear.

  “You did, but I’m back now,” Thomas replied his voice full of joy.

  ~

  Jack looked up at the skylark, a speck high in the sky. Its song insanely beautiful. It pierced his heart, the Erthe would live, life would go on, as would the cycle of light and darkness.

  “What was the name of the town Forcan said was near here?”

  Sabine shifted her weight. “Sarenossa.”

  “I think we should go there.”

  Raven put her hand on his shoulder. “What about the spear you threw from the sky? At the city…”

  “The die is cast on that one, Raven. Before
the sphere attacked us, I saw that black rent disappear on the screen; New Haven is free. All that remains is to see if your king lives or dies… either way there’ll be a reckoning.”

  “Aye,” Tig agreed. “There’ll be a reckoning from the top down. I don’t want to go back just now. It’s best to let the dust settle. I like it out here, the road’s full of adventure and surprises. I’d like to see where it takes us.”

  “Us? ” Sabine echoed.

  Silence.

  “Us…” Raven repeated.

  Jack rubbed his bruised shoulder and grinned at Tig. “Aye. Us.”

  A second skylark joined the first and a chorus of life affirming song cascaded down from the clouds.

  The End

  About The Author

  Fergal F. Nally is an outdoors lover often to be found out and about in amongst it all in the Scottish Highlands. His passions are hillwalking, music and reading great fantasy adventure novels. He lives in Edinburgh. Runestane is the debut novel in the Erthe sequence. Severance and Sanctuary are also available.

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