Honourbound: A Progression Fantasy (Surgecaller Book 3)

by Todd Herzman

  If he could get to her, help her somehow…

  She was already no match for Master Inan, what good would that do?

  The serpent whipped its tail, sweeping Jamison off his feet. The Knight, rock armour and all, crashed to the ground.

  He’s right, Huon thought. We are children.

  Master Inan kept walking toward Huon, the casualness of his gait unnerving even while Huon couldn’t feel fear.

  This is where I die. My journey ends well before I’ve reached my destination. There was no point surging fire, or any of the other elements. No point using the Champion essence to fight, either. The man was simply too strong.

  Master Inan pulled his arm back, his eyes wide, his face red. He wasn’t using his Legend-level speed—he didn’t need to.

  He wants me to see my death coming.

  Huon straightened. He’d dropped his shield—his sword was already out of reach—and stared the master in the eyes. ‘Do what you have to.’

  ‘Gladly.’ Master Inan’s claws came down.

  The earth shuddered.

  The master faltered.

  The thud came again, and a shadow descended on the trees. The Immortal of Earth’s goliath.

  Master Inan used all his speed to turn, but as he did, something thrust out of his chest. A sword, made from rock. The light drained from the master’s eyes. Terr’al, who’d appeared as if from nowhere behind the Legend, pulled his rock sword free. Master Inan slumped to the ground.

  The Immortal nudged the Legend with his boot.

  Surgecallers—especially in the higher ranks—could heal even fatal wounds. But some wounds were too severe even for a Legend’s stamina.

  The master did not move.

  Sasalani struck forward, as fast as Huon had ever seen her move, right at the Immortal. But before the ice-serpent reached the man, a solid-rock spike shot from the ground and ran straight through its head.

  Before Huon could thank Terr’al—something he thought he’d never do—the Immortal disappeared.

  The fearlessness drained away. Huon almost fell to his knees. Jamison stood a little ways away, face pale. Aran’s neck was at an impossible angle, Yilda frozen solid close by.

  Huon walked around the body of Master Inan toward his closest Squad mate, Ellie. He looked at the other frozen bodies: Yilda, Bria, Matti and Vanson. ‘Are they dead?’

  Jamison knelt by Yilda, touching a hand to the ice that covered her. He closed his eyes. Was he trying to sense her core? A moment passed, then his eyes flashed open. ‘She still lives.’

  ‘And so do I.’ Champion Jesalla struggled to her feet. Whatever wound she’d endured… it must have been bad for it to take that long for Champion-level stamina to heal. She stepped toward Ranil, her feet becoming more steady, then knelt by him. She examined his body, then her head dropped. ‘Gone.’

  Huon let out a breath. He hadn’t known the Champion long—just as he hadn’t known Aran long—but these people hadn’t deserved to die. They were here because they were forced to be here. He couldn’t even blame Master Inan for killing them… the man had simply wanted to protect his people.

  Ellie’s entire body was frozen. Huon shifted his attention to her. A trickle of essence could be sensed from within the block of ice—her stamina was keeping her alive. He rubbed his hands together, then gently surged fire, melting the ice at her head first.

  Champion Jesalla touched her fallen partner on the forehead, then surged to her feet, moving to thaw Matti.

  When Yilda was free of the ice, she howled at the death of her husband.

  ~

  Huon had been so concerned with being forced to kill, he hadn’t spared a thought to those by his side that he would lose.

  None of his Squad mates were his friends. But they were people he knew—people he’d fought beside. And he’d lost them in seconds, just as the battle began.

  There wasn’t time to bury or burn the dead, they had to move.

  The remaining eight members of Huon’s Squad made their way to the School of Druina’s main camp. He touched the Core pauldron he’d been given, feeling the essence within. Why had they been given these, if they’d been no help? The lead pair were Champions, they should have been given access to Legend-level stamina, shouldn’t they? Why send us into a fight we couldn’t win? Why not just send the Immortals through first? The Immortal of Earth had made quick work of Master Inan, surely the foot soldiers weren’t even needed.

  There are only so many Immortals, they had to cover the entire battlefield. Not to mention, they’d probably be fighting other Immortals.

  Huon wondered what a fight like that would look like. Maybe some of the Immortal Seven would lose their lives along the way in this war, making his job easier down the line.

  Huon entered the clearing where the School of Druina’s main camp resided.

  The entire place had been devastated. The tents were nothing more than ash on the ground. Beasts lay dead, scattered about the camp. Surgecallers, too—some younger than Huon. Champions Kurcha and Harlan stood by a line of enemy surgecallers kneeling in the dirt.

  They looked familiar. Huon recognised some of them from his brief visit here. A young girl—no older than nine—clutched what looked like a normal cat in her arms as it growled, hissed, and slashed out with its claws.

  We weren’t ordered to spare their companions… Huon shuddered at the thought of Shurie being murdered, and felt for these people—they may have been bonded to their beasts for years.

  The Immortal of Earth appeared out of nowhere, standing in front of the first in line—a bald man with dark, swirling tattoos over his face and neck. ‘Say your oaths.’

  The man spat at the Immortal’s feet. Huon winced as the Immortal ran him through, blood pouring from the bald man’s mouth. The rock sword had gone straight into his heart, and was left there a moment, so the man’s stamina would do him no good.

  Huon blinked, stumbling back.

  Terr’al moved to the next surgecaller, telling her to say her oaths, again running her through when she refused.

  Huon gaped.

  The next surgecaller was a man in his twenties who stared up at the Immortal with a burning hatred.

  The Immortal of Earth tilted his head to the side. ‘Say your oaths.’

  ‘No.’

  Terr’al sighed, and moved to thrust his sword.

  Huon stepped forward. Without thinking. Without meaning to. ‘Can’t you have mercy?’

  Every head in the clearing turned to him.

  The Immortal of Earth’s rock sword froze mid-thrust. He faced Huon. ‘Mercy is not something I have the ability to grant.’ Terr’al was stone-faced as he spoke.

  Huon had heard those exact words before, from Blaze. Why had he spoken? The last thing he needed was to be singled out by another of the Immortal Seven. ‘I’m sorry, Lord Imm—’

  ‘Silence.’

  Huon’s mouth clamped shut. The Immortal of Earth approached, looming over Huon as he kept his head down.

  ‘You are one of Blaze’s cast-offs. He mentioned your… lack of devotion.’ Terr’al faced the kneeling surgecaller. ‘I gave this man as much mercy as I can afford. He could have lived on under my service, as Honourbound. He refused.’ Terr’al looked at the dead prisoners in line before the man. ‘He knows what refusing means.’

  The Immortal drew Huon’s sword and placed it in his hand. ‘Why don’t you give him a second chance?’

  Huon gripped the sword, surging breath, trying not to let the Immortal see his hand shake. The words the Immortal had said had been a question, not a command. Huon steeled himself, wishing he had more of that fearlessness essence in his core. He stared up at Terr’al and didn’t move.

  The Immortal of Earth leant close to him. He didn’t smile, like Blaze might have smiled. He just got so close their faces were almost touching. ‘Consider that a command.’

  Huon swallowed. His binding stung. This… this was
the very thing he’d been worried about. This was what he’d been afraid of, going off to war—killing innocent people. And this would be far worse than last time. Huon faced the prisoner. The man was unarmed, hands tied behind his back. Gods, from the look of it, he didn’t have any essence in his core—Huon wouldn’t be surprised if the lead pairs were given soulthiefs to deal with the enemies.

  The binding burned. Up his arms, through his neck, right to his head. The pressure was intense. He remembered this pressure, from the last time he’d refused an Immortal oathmaster’s command. It felt like he was on fire, and at the same time, deep underwater.

  He couldn’t hold himself there long. He didn’t know how much time had passed. Five seconds? A minute? In the current state of his mind it was hard to keep track.

  Huon stood before the prisoner. The man looked up at him, then stared at his binding. Did he recognise Huon, from the last time he’d been at the School of Druina? From when he’d been refused sponsorship by Master Inan? The man must have been a Champion. He was in his mid-twenties, his dark hair reminding Huon of Bern.

  Huon swallowed. His mouth opened without him wanting it to. He gritted his teeth, but he couldn’t keep the words from coming. ‘Will… you…’ He scrunched his eyes shut. ‘Will you say the oaths?’ Please. He wanted to beg the man to do it—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make this man choose a life of slavery.

  He had to make that choice on his own.

  Anger returned to the man’s eyes. ‘I will never swear the oaths, no matter how many times you ask. No matter how many of us you kill.’ He looked at the Immortal. ‘Your Everlasting King has no idea what he’s started. This is not right. Your realm cannot win a war with us. I will die today, but at least I’ll do it with the knowledge that you and your entire realm won’t be far behind.’

  The Immortal of Earth tilted his head up. ‘Kill him.’

  No.

  Huon’s hand shook, the sword practically vibrating in the air. Surge will. Break the bond. Don’t let yourself become a murderer—not again. Never again.

  ‘Kill him.’

  Huon felt the command in his bones. Every ounce of his strength disappeared in a flash.

  Huon thrust his sword through the man’s neck. Blood flooded out, pouring down the blade, wetting Huon’s armour. He pulled the sword out, letting it fall to the ground as he stumbled back.

  ‘We do not have the ability to give mercy. You are oathbound—Honourbound—it is something you must come to accept. Clean yourself up, Knight. I shall deal with the rest of them.’

  The next person he faced was the little girl with the black cat clutched in her arms.

  Huon only just stopped himself from collapsing to the ground. I killed a man. Again.

  Maybe it would have been better if Master Inan had killed him. No. I cannot give up. He knew this would happen. As much as he wished it wouldn’t, he’d expected this.

  He was not the one killing—he was being forced to. That’s why his goal was so important in the first place. That’s why he fought so hard—so he could be free. So he could kill every one of the Immortal Seven. So he could kill the Everlasting King—and he would.

  He would do it.

  Huon looked down at his hands, covered in the dead man’s blood.

  I’ll kill every oathmaster in the realm if I have to.

  Chapter 8

  The Forest City of Landor fell in one day.

  Once the city had fallen, the enemy surgecallers began to admit defeat. The majority swore their oaths, becoming oathbound to one of the Immortals a part of the attack.

  That man in the clearing Huon had killed had been the last of the School of Druina to refuse the swearing of the oaths. The girl with the cat had survived. She’s a slave now. But at least she’s not dead.

  Huon’s sword and armour were almost clean. He’d spent the night washing them, over and over, trying to get all the blood out. As he finished cleaning his greaves with a rag more filled with blood than water, he examined his thoughts.

  Would he really kill every oathmaster in the realm if he had to? How would that make him better than Bern? Than his father? When he’d fought the binding, fought his command to kill Bern, he’d decided he would walk the best path he could.

  Did that path involve so much bloodshed?

  It will be different. The oathmasters weren’t innocent. They weren’t forced to take on oathbound. They weren’t forced to make them do their bidding, treat them as though they were property. They’d only been given the opportunity.

  And they’d taken it gladly.

  I’ll give them a choice. Break their bindings, or die.

  Huon put the last of his plate armour into a pile.

  Not for the first time that day, he wondered if he should have let himself kill Bern.

  A small evil, to be free. And the Immortal of Fire would have died along with him… He was sure Bern would have sacrificed his life to see one of the Immortals dead.

  That isn’t me.

  Jakob may want the same things as him, but he was willing to let one of his followers die just to prove something to his son. He could have killed Blaze right there and then—he could have avenged the death of his wife.

  He never cared about her, or me.

  ‘Huon?’

  Huon looked up. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there after having finished cleaning his armour.

  Jamison stood above him, wearing his martial arts robes. ‘Jesalla told me to find you. No one saw you at dinner.’

  ‘I had to…’ Huon looked at his pile of clean armour.

  Jamison sat beside him. He was silent for a while. Huon was glad for that. He didn’t know what to say. A few minutes passed in the silence, then Jamison leant forward, elbows on knees, chin resting in his hands. ‘I should have gone with you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When Inara was murdered.’ Jamison faced Huon. ‘I shouldn’t have hunted you… I shouldn’t have attacked you. I should have gone with you. I…’ He shut his eyes. ‘I was too afraid.’

  Huon looked away. How different would everything have turned out if Jamison had come? Would all three of them be free now? Would he still be in that arena with Liona, or would they never have gone there in the first place?

  ‘You had every reason to be afraid.’

  ‘That new surge you got. Fearlessness. Were you surging it when you spoke to Terr’al? When you… asked him to give that man mercy?’

  Huon shook his head. ‘I’d used it already, when… when I thought Master Inan was going to kill me.’

  Jamison frowned. ‘Master Inan?’

  Huon blinked. Of course. Jamison wouldn’t know that Huon had known the man. ‘The Legend we faced, with the ice-serpent, the one who killed Aran and Ranil.’ Their Squad mates’ bodies hadn’t even been recovered. They were still lying there, on the battlefield. ‘He was the master of the school we attacked.’

  ‘I wish I were as brave as you, Huon.’ Jamison put a hand on his shoulder, then stood. ‘Get something to eat. I’m told we march in the morning.’

  Huon’s stomach sank. Marching again, already? He’d hoped the army would spend some time in Landor, fortifying the city… something. But an army of Honourbound moved fast.

  Some of the surgecallers will have escaped. The queen will have been warned.

  Huon bundled up his armour, returning it to the tent he shared with Jamison. The army had set up camp in the forest below the city, a little ways from where the main fighting had occurred—the bodies were still being cleared from that area.

  He walked toward one of the cookfires in a daze, staring off into the distance. Beyond the camp’s lights were lines upon lines of surgecallers. New oathbound. They were being… collected, sorted. He’d heard some, those who were too young, would be sent back to Glenhaven, but the others…

  They would become Honourbound.

  On the day their home was attacked, they would have t
o serve the army of their enemy.

  No wonder so many chose death over this.

  Huon stopped dead before he reached the fire, a stab of guilt hitting him square in the gut. Sir Galen’s parents will be dead. Even if the boy had surrendered, his parents… they had been the leaders of this place.

  Maybe they escaped—maybe their whole family escaped.

  Huon sat by the fire. Someone shoved a metal bowl full of salted meat into his hand. He barely registered it, eating mechanically. Not that he had any appetite. That was another thing he had no control over. Just as he was commanded to kill, so was he commanded to do everything else in his life. An oathbound couldn’t refuse to eat in protest.

  Jamison’s confession barely broke into his thoughts. It should have meant something to him. It should have furthered their bond. Made him angry. Something.

  But it didn’t do a thing.

  We march again in the morning.

  ~

  An army marches on its essence.

  That’s what Champion Jesalla said every morning.

  Every morning but today.

  The Squad cultivated in silence. Yilda’s eyes were red. Not once did she look at the other Squad members. She already had a new partner, taken from one of the other Squads—a woman she didn’t say a single word to.

  Huon had barely spoken to Aran, yet he felt… responsible. Neither Aran nor Yilda would have encountered the Immortal of Fire if not for Huon getting taken by him—if not for Blaze going after Jakob.

  It’s not my fault, just as that man’s death last night wasn’t my fault. But thinking that—knowing that—wasn’t enough to be rid of the pit in his stomach.

  Yilda wasn’t the only one with a new partner. Champion Jesalla had been assigned someone too. Huon had frozen when he’d seen the man. He wore Honourbound armour, but… he wasn’t from the Everlasting King’s realm.

  He was one of the surgecallers captured from the city. Huon had known they would be making them fight, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but that didn’t make it any less terrible.

  The man didn’t look angry, he looked… vacant, as though he were still in shock. He’s retreated into his mind. Huon understood that impulse—he’d done it himself.