Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Five swords He gave to the Kings of the West,

  to fight and keep them free.

  One for the King in the Golden Wood,

  and one for the King by the sea.

  One sword for the King who ruled in the south,

  and sat on a mighty horse,

  one for the King in Ithlemere,

  who guarded the lands of the north.

  And the greatest He set with the jewel from his brow,

  and gave to the High King of all,

  and in his hands it caused the darkness,

  to waver, to flee, then to fall.

  Now the High King is gone and only two swords remain,

  in Brydium and Ail’'itharain.

  And Great Sword sleeps, it is wielded by none,

  it awaits on the isle,

  for the High King's son.

  Deathbane cries from its sleep,

  For Ljmarn's long lost son."

  Table of Contents

  PART III

  Chapter oneInto the East

  Chapter twoGhosts of the Bergaweld

  Chapter threeThe Iron Tower

  Chapter fourTalon of the Hawk

  Chapter fiveEscape from Darkness

  Chapter sixThe Lady Cil’lena

  Chapter sevenAelin’Gil

  Chapter eightBlood Debt

  Chapter nineBrythond

  Chapter tenThe House of Arthol

  Chapter elevenGifts of the Dragonslayer

  Chapter twelveDuke of Thonbor

  Chapter thirteenThe Dancing Unicorn

  Chapter fourteenGolden Lions of Thonbor

  Chapter fifteenProphecies of Aaracus

  Chapter sixteenSir Algeron’s Maze

  Chapter seventeenA Tidy Sum

  Chapter eighteenCelebration

  PART IV

  Chapter nineteenAlong the Elfway

  Chapter twentyGoldenbriar Gate

  Chapter twenty-oneElvendale

  Chapter twenty-twoShadow Dance

  Chapter twenty-threeDreamwalkers

  Chapter twenty-fourGentler Company

  Chapter twenty-fiveWolf-Brother

  Chapter twenty-sixThe Inn of Two Fountains

  Chapter twenty-sevenThe Broken Arrow

  Chapter twenty-eightLionized

  Chapter twenty-nineThe Disinherited Knight

  Chapter thirtyRaashan Razorbacks

  Chapter thirty-oneField of Honor

  Chapter thirty-twoLeft Hand of Darkness

  Chapter Thirty-threeSwordmaster of Aralon

  Glossary

  HEIR OF SWORD AND STONE

  BOOK TWO

  PATH OF KINGS

  Part III

  Chapter One

  Into the East

  Long after the last of the Galekindar had disappeared, Jack Braedan sat on the back of Eaudreuil the Val'anna stallion and stared numbly east into the rising sun. With the coming of dawn and a new day, the events of the previous night all seemed like the fogy remnants of some terrible, half remembered dream.

  But it was morning now and the dream continued.

  Though the Galekindar had faded back into nothingness, their hold on this world severed, the temporarily resurrected Amarian knights had somehow left behind indisputable evidence their appearance had been no dream. A half-circle of ancient weapons surrounded Braedan, one hundred shining swords and shields standing as mute but indisputable testimony their appearance hadn't been some fantastically vivid hallucination. If the ancient weapons were not proof enough last night had not been merely some horrific delusion, Braedan had only to look around him. The bodies of the defeated grim'Hiru army remained as well. Their dead lay scattered about the ruins as far as he could see.

  And if they were still here then...

  Jack turned reluctantly, dreading the other proof he knew he would find. Behind him in the distance, Gilasha lay dead at the center of the hilltop, a cold, silent reminder Tarsus was now a helpless captive in the hands of one of Graith's sorcerers. At this moment he was being spirited toward Gorthiel and some horrible fate. He could not remember when he'd ever felt so weak, so helpless, so completely and utterly alone.

  "But you are not alone Horse-brother," Eaudreuil beamed. "I am here."

  Jack sighed wearily and patted the stallion's neck. "I know boy."

  "And we will have Tarsus back by night-fall," the Val'anna continued with assurance. "I am not weary. That nag the evil two-legs rides will not be difficult to overtake. I will run like the wind and when we catch it, I will crush its skull beneath my hooves. But we must leave soon."

  "We will," Jack replied. "But first there's something we must to do."

  Though the Val'anna seemed confident they would have little trouble catching the sorcerer, Braedan wasn't so sure. Deep in his heart, he knew Tarsus was far beyond any help they could give. He knew the sorcerer had not lied last night. By now his friend was well on his way to Gorthiel and there was nothing he could do to change it. But he shielded these thoughts from Eaudreuil. It would do the stallion no good to sense the despair filling him.

  Braedan still planned to follow after them. That had not changed. Tarsus was his friend. Even without his promise to the Galekindar, he would have gone. It didn't matter without the Highsword Yhswyndyr in his hands, any hope of rescuing the Amarian was almost surely impossible, would likely even cost him his life. He would follow just the same. He had promised the Sons of Storm he would find the Iron Tower and at least make the attempt. He owed them that much for saving his life. He owned Tarsus even more.

  First he had another duty to perform.

  With an unspoken command, Braedan turned Eaudreuil back towards the center of the hilltop, to the place where he and Tarsus had made their camp the evening before. It had somehow escaped the notice of the grim'Hiru search parties, and though it had been ravaged by the storm, the area was otherwise undisturbed. Braedan dismounted and began to rummage through the few items he and Tarsus had left behind in their haste to escape the beast-men. There were two nearly full water skins lying on the ground, as well as a short length of sturdy rope and the two bearskin blankets the Amarian had used to construct their crude shelter.

  Braedan quickly collected these items, then finding nothing of else value bundled them together and began to search through the murky gray soup of last night's fire-pit. Locating a piece of hardened coal which did not immediately break apart in his hands, he tested it against a flat stone lying nearby. Nodding in satisfaction at the dark, thick smudges it left behind, he stood and walked back to the base of the stone arch way, ignoring the questioning look Eaudreuil gave him as he followed.

  Braedan studied the blank stone for several seconds then began to write. Though the charcoal disappeared quickly on the hard granite surface of the ancient gate, the softened coal lasted long enough for him to complete the brief message he'd composed. When it was finished, Jack wiped his hands on his trousers and stepped back to examine his work.

  "What does it say?" Eaudreuil asked. For all his intelligence, the Val'anna could not read.

  "Sorry," Jack apologized and opened his mind to the stallion.

  Eaudreuil nickered in understanding, then shifted his weight impatiently, eager to be off. "Now may we go?"

  "First we take care of Gilasha," Jack replied.

  "The honor is not necessary," Eaudreuil beamed, sensing what Braedan intended. "Gilasha was my herd-kin. But he is gone now. He has crossed over to the Grassland beyond the Sunset. The body that held his spirit is but a lifeless husk. The Earthe-father will reclaim it soon enough. We should go after Tarsus. Gilasha would understand."

  "Tarsus would also understand," Jack replied with certainly. "He wouldn't want us to leave Gilasha unburied, food for the crows or any of Graith's wolves that might ha
ve survived the Gale-kindar.”

  Eaudreuil studied his human companion for several seconds before relenting. "As you wish horse-brother." he finally beamed. Though he did not sound fully convinced, the Val'anna followed Braedan as he turned and made his way back to where Gilasha lay.

  The extent of the dead stallion's wounds, seen now in the bright light of day, struck Braedan like a physical blow. This time however, along with the heart-rending sorrow he felt as he looked at the stallion, there was also a deep, burning anger. A furious, white hot rage filled him when he thought of how this free-spirited creature had been forced to endure such a painful end. Yet he was soon glad for that anger. It strengthened his resolve, steeling him for what he had to do.

  Though the grim'Hiru was long dead now, it still reeked of a hate so strong, so overpowering, when he reached down and grasped its shoulders to pull it from beneath Gilasha, his mind was nearly engulfed in a morass of dark, frustrated violence. But Jack Braedan's own hate matched that of the beast-man. It enabled him to endure its loathsome touch as he pulled it from beneath the fallen Val'anna. Fighting back nausea, he wrestled the corpse free and with a grunt of disgust hoisted it onto his shoulders.

  He carried it to the edge of the palace ruins, far enough away from Gilasha his sleep would not be disturbed, then dropped the body and quickly wiped his soiled hands on his shirt. After taking several deep breaths to clear the awful stink of hate from his soul, he turned to find Eaudreuil mimicking his action. The roan's massive head was close to the ground, his teeth clinched firmly around the blood-soaked harness of a grim'Hiru as he struggled to pull the dead beast-man across the rocky hilltop. The Val'anna deposited his burden next to the other corpse and shook his head vigorously, blowing air through his nostrils as he tried in vain to rid himself of the vile taste left in his mouth. After the spell had passed, Braedan hugged Eaudreuil's neck then he and the stallion grimly set themselves to the noisome task.

  It took them nearly half an hour, laboring together, but when they had finished there was not a single grim'Hiru corpse within fifty yards of the spot where Gilasha had fallen. With that task done, Braedan began collecting stones for the stallion's burial cairn. Soon the Val'anna was covered by a mound two feet high. Except for the ancient palace archway, there was nothing taller among all the ruins of Tanaevar. Braedan then gathered several armloads of swords, shields and spears left laying behind on the battlefield, carefully arranging the weapons into a ring of honor around Gilasha's final resting place.

  The work finally completed, Braedan stepped back to pay his last respects to the fallen stallion and in the still silence covering the hilltop, he soon became aware of a simple, rhythmic chant filling his mind. With sudden wonder, he realized it was coming from Eaudreuil.

  The Val'anna was singing.

  Hail Gilasha!

  Son of Redmane.

  Ever yearling.

  Ever youthful.

  Run with eagles,

  chasing rainbows.

  In the Grassland,

  beyond the sunset.

  Hail Gilahsa!

  Foal of Morning.

  King bearer.

  Hiru slayer.

  Racing eastward,

  Into legend.

  Hail Gilasha,

  herd-kindred.

  Rest with honor.

  Ever after.

  In the Grassland,

  beyond the sunset.

  Across the river,

  into morning.

  Into the land,

  of Everdawning.

  When the stallion finished, Braedan wiped hot tears from his eyes and with a last look at the final resting place of Gilasha of the Val'anna Runs, he mounted Eaudreuil and they slowly began making their way eastward out of the ruins.

  It was not difficult for the pair to pick up the trail of their quarry. Once they left behind the muddled tracks covering the battle-area around the palace ruins, Braedan soon spotted the unmistakable prints of the sorcerer's black stallion. Burdened by the weight of two full grown men, the black stallion's hooves had been driven deep into the soft earth. Even after they'd left the muddy slopes of the hilltop for the hard-packed surface of Tanaevar's ancient roadway, his keen vision had little trouble picking up even the faintest mark left behind by the iron shod hooves of the other man's mount.

  As the broad avenue exited the ruins and passed beyond the outer edges of the ancient city of Tanaevar, it slowly disappeared until it finally once again melted into the unbroken plains that bordered the Amarian Hills. Fortunately, the ground had been drenched by last night's fierce storm and the trail left behind by the fleeing sorcerer was painfully visible, cutting across the countryside like a sword stroke in the flesh of the earth.

  Braedan released Eaudreuil letting the stallion run, confident the Val'anna could easily follow the trail left behind by the passing of the sorcerer. The roan shot forward with a bound when it was given free reign and the chase was on. League after league the Val'anna ran, with Braedan leaning forward in the saddle holding tightly to the stallion's neck, the wind roaring in his ears and the roan's muscles rippling with unrestrained power beneath him. Faster and faster Eaudreuil ran until it seemed to Jack they were no longer moving at all, but hanging suspended in the air as the landscape passed by them in a blur. They continued at this pace for more than an hour until the Val'anna suddenly skidded to a halt, almost throwing his passenger out of the saddle.

  "There is an evil smell on the wind!" Eaudreuil warned, his nostrils flaring with fear.

  "Is it the sorcerer?" asked Jack, anxiously scanning the horizon.

  "No."

  "More grim'Hiru?"

  "Something worse," the roan replied with a shudder.

  "Slowly," Jack whispered and drew his sword, though he did not know what possible use it would be against something worse than a black sorcerer or another army of beast-men.

  The stallion began to move tentatively forward.

  Several minutes passed and they saw nothing. Jack was beginning to think Eaudreuil had merely caught some lingering scent left on the trail by the sorcerer and was about tell the Val'anna to resume his gallop when an object up ahead suddenly drew his gaze. It was just a dark lump in the distance, and for an instant he thought it nothing more than a stray boulder exposed by centuries of wind and rain. Then the smell hit him; the unmistakable reek of charred flesh.

  Braedan dismounted and went forward slowly on foot, fearing the worst, yet hoping against hope the mound was not the remains of his friend. Fighting back bile rising in his throat from the foul stench, he crept toward the mound until he was only a few feet away. When he could finally see it clearly however, he sighed with relief when he realized the mound of flesh was much too large to possibly the remains of his friend.

  But what was it?

  At best guess it had once been a large, four-legged animal, but closer than that Braedan could not tell. From its missing head to its groin, the animal had been ripped open, gutted with such tremendous force it appeared to have exploded. The horrible wound had spilled its entrails out onto the ground, adding to the overpowering stench, and great chunks of flesh were missing from its back and haunches, ripped savagely from its body by some unknown violence. What was left of the savaged carcass, as well as a large patch of ground surrounding the place where it lay, had been scorched black by a hellish inferno.

  "This was done by a dragon," Eaudreuil beamed quietly, his mind-speak awash with fear.

  Caught off guard by the force of the Val'anna's thoughts, Jack found his mind suddenly filled by the terrifying vision of a great flying creature gliding along effortlessly on thin, leathery wings. The beast had a sinuous, reptilian body, covered by scales so black they rippled with flashes of purple and green. At the end of its long, slender neck, a huge triangular head swung constantly back and forth, searching the land below with eyes burning with an ancient hunger.

  Braedan was instantly paralyzed with fright, unable to move. As he watched the creature circ
le high above him, he suddenly understood how the defenseless rabbit must feel, sitting in a field of fresh green clover and munching contentedly on the sweet pink flowers, when it caught the first horrifying glimpse of the hawk's shadow and knew his death was at hand.

  Though he stood motionless, not even daring to breath, the sharp eyes of the hunting dragon soon spotted him. With a predatory roar of triumph, the monster tucked its leathery wings and dove straight towards him, a hurtling mountain of flesh, belching smoke and fire as it came. Braedan closed his eyes and forced the terrible vision of the swiftly descending horror from his mind.

  "A dragon," Eaudreuil repeated. "Though one has not been seen by a Val'anna since my grandfather's grandfather was a yearling colt, their smell still remains strong in our nostrils."

  "Are you sure?" Jack asked shakily, finally daring to open his eyes once more.

  "It could be nothing else." Eaudreuil replied with a shudder.

  The Val'anna's fear was so great its thoughts again forced their way into his mind. A gripping terror seized Jack as he imagined what it would be like to have his own body pinned beneath the dragon's crushing weight, held immovable by claws as long and sharp as swords, waiting for the monster's terrible teeth to rip him to shreds.

  "They were always fond of horse-flesh," the Val'anna sighed. "It appears they have not lost their taste for it over the years."

  With sudden understanding, Braedan realized the ruined carcass that lay before them was the charred remains of the sorcerer's black stallion. "But where...what happened to Tarsus?" he asked. "Where is the sorcerer?"

  "Dragons were always the favored mount of Red Slayer's servants," Eaudreuil replied. “So say the fathers of my kind.”

  "Damn!" Braedan swore, guessing what the Val'anna would say next.

  "This one was no doubt met the evil two-legs," the stallion surmised. "to take him back to his master..."

  "Along with any captive he might have," Jack finished bitterly.

  "Yes."

  Braedan slammed his sword back into its scabbard with a curse and remounted Eaudreuil. Without being told, the stallion began to circle the scorched ground around the dead horse. They soon found evidence removing any lingering doubt the Val'anna had guessed correctly. There were several boot prints that definitely didn't belong to Tarsus, framed by two parallel tracks in the mud that could only have been marks left behind by the Amarian's heels digging into the soft earth as he was dragged along by the sorcerer.