by Brian Murray
Maldino looked at Zilra who shook her head. “Rise,” ordered Maldino. The champion rose to his feet, but kept his head bowed. “Go back to your clan and bring them here. You are no longer Snowrats. Your clan no longer exists. You are now Silverswords.”
“Yes, my chieftain,” replied the man, bowing low once more.
“Chahar, go with him and bring my clansmen here.” The new Silverswords clansman left the tent. He gathered his warriors and rode away from the camp. When the champion left, Maldino walked up to Vakidor.
“You are without a chieftain. I know your clan is small, but I invite you to join my clan. You and your clansmen can become Silverswords. Go speak to your elders and seek their guidance.”
Vakidor nodded. “I have heard you are a fair and honourable chieftain. I would like to fight for your clan and would happily give you my sword. I will do as you command and speak to our elders. I will speak of your actions and your offer.”
Maldino nodded and turned to the other chieftains. “It’s time to decide. Following tradition, you have one week to make your decision. Talk among yourselves. When my new clansmen arrive, you will decide.”
Maldino left the peace tent after ordering some men to remove the body.
Two days later at dawn, the former Snowrats arrived at the camp led by Chahar. Maldino walked from his tent and stood as the clansmen lined up before him. Each warrior from the Snowrats stepped forward, knelt on the snow and bowed low, touching his head against Maldino’s bare feet. They would then draw their sword across the palm of their hand and let blood drip on the ground. They then gave their oath. “Kharnacks, We. Silverswords I.”
Until dusk, Maldino stood impassively as more and more clansmen pledged their oath. The last clansman was Sledon’s own champion. “I served my chieftain well and with honour. I give you my sword willingly.” The man bowed at Maldino’s feet and pledged his oath. “Kharnacks, We. Silverswords, I.”
When he had completed his oath, Maldino turned his back and ducked into his tent. Once inside he had removed his sword belt, he sat down and started rubbing his aching cold feet. “Damn, I’m getting too old for that,” he complained, rubbing warmth into his limbs.
“What were they doing?” asked Rayth.
“That was the Snowrats clan pledging their oath to me and my clan. It’s part of Kharnack custom that the chieftain who committed the crime in the peace tent forfeits all possessions, including his clan.”
“There were several thousand warriors,” observed Rayth.
“About four thousand warriors, I believe.” Maldino was still rubbing his legs and feet when Chahar entered the tent. He bowed.
“The Crossbones have arrived,” he announced.
Maldino smiled and rose to his feet with a grunt. He turned to Rayth as he put on his sword belt and tied the sheaths to his thighs. “This should be quicker,” he said with a growing smile, leaving his tent.
Rayth shook his head, crawled to the tent flap, and peered out.
Vakidor led his clan into the Silverswords camp. He saw Maldino and waved his arm. The warriors of the Crossbones rode forward and circled the Silverswords chieftain.
Inside the tent, Rayth gasped. The Rhaurn watched Maldino stand by his huge campfire with his arms folded before his chest. Vakidor dismounted from his horse and walked up to Maldino. He bowed low and said something, but Rayth could not hear it.
***
Maldino watched Vakidor dismount from his pony and approach. The champion stood before Maldino. Smoothly, he knelt and bowed at Maldino’s feet. “I have spoken with our elders and the warriors of the Crossbones. If you ask, we will give you our swords.”
“Rise, my friend,” said Maldino softly. Vakidor rose smoothly to his feet and stood beside his new chieftain. Maldino drew one of his swords and raised it into the air. “I am Maldino, chieftain of the Silverswords clan. I welcome you, the Crossbones, to join my clan. From today on you will have the right and the honour to call yourselves Silverswords.”
Vakidor stood forward, drew his own sword, and held it aloft. “Kharnacks, we. Silverswords, I.”
In unison, the former Crossbones warriors raised their swords. “Kharnacks, we. Silverswords, I!” they bellowed.
“Welcome, brothers,” said Maldino, bowing at all points of the compass to the warriors. The warriors disbursed and went to find their kin. The Silverswords clan grew and Maldino’s dream of unification took a step closer.
Maldino returned to his tent, where he was joined by Kavlon and Chahar. The chieftain made himself comfortable and spoke to his champion. “Chahar, prepare our warriors to march.”
“Where do we go?”
“We go to Kal-Pharina. We have some beasts to slay.”
“It will be as you say.”
“Thank you,” said Rayth honestly and Maldino nodded.
“We will need to have the other clans agree to the march.”
“When do we speak to them again?”
“Tomorrow at dawn,” replied Maldino, turning to Kavlon. “Son, you will stay here.” Kavlon was about to complain, but Maldino raised his hand. “Many new clansmen have joined today. I need you here to stop any squabbles.”
“Yes, Father,” said Kavlon sadly. Something else under laid his feelings, edging his voice.
“Good. Now I need to rest.” Maldino made himself comfortable on his blanket and instantly fell asleep.
“Is it true you’re going to face the one in black armour?” asked Kavlon softly, looking at his father’s still figure.
“Yes,” said Rayth, staring into the fire.
“I wish I was going.”
“No, no you don’t,” said Rayth softly. “Those creatures are not of this world and even I shiver when I see them.”
“I am brave,” said the young man, looking for criticism.
“Any son of Maldino has his blood and will be brave. But leaving you behind has nothing to do with bravery, boy. It has to do with common sense. Your father may not return and therefore, you will be the future chieftain of your clan. Remember, he’s not leaving you as a punishment, but as the future.”
Kavlon sat in silence for a while, then stood and walked to the tent flap. He paused and turned to Rayth. “I agree with your words, Fire in the Storm.” Then Kavlon disappeared out of the tent.
“Thank you Rayth,” said Maldino, rolling over. “Your words were true and kind, but he has a lot to learn.” The chieftain paused. “I’m not sure if he will be a good chieftain.”
“He might surprise you, Maldino. There is strength in him, I can see it in his eyes.”
The chieftain shook his head. “There is strength, of that I do not doubt. But there is also a fear. It’s the fear that must be driven from him.”
“But remember, fear if used as an ally can make a stronger man.”
“Too true, Fire in the Storm. Too true,” replied Maldino, turning over to sleep.
***
At dawn, Maldino and Rayth broke their fasts together and then walked to the peace tent. The morning was grey and depressing, with thick cloud bunching overhead. The three remaining chieftains waited patiently for Maldino to return. He took his place by the fire with Rayth at his right-hand side.
“As I mentioned, I have pledged my men to help my friend and the Phadrine. Now I have given you, my brothers, enough time to decide. Please let me have you answer. Do you join me?”
Dnambi rose and addressed the others. “I have listened to what you have said. I agree the one in black armour needs to be stopped. I am not a coward and would face his beast myself with sword in my hand. But I have a question: Who leads?”
Gamada stood. “I agree with Dnambi that the beasts have to be faced and stopped. But who leads?”
Renai spoke next. “I will pledge my men to fight the beasts. I will lead my men into battle. I will not have any other lead my clansmen when I am here and blood pumps in my body. My ancestors would spit on me if I let a Tallpeak or Roundstone lead my men. No disrespect.”
> “And I will not let a Whitecat lead my warriors,” sneered Dnambi vehemently.
The argument grew louder and louder as the chieftains traded insults. Rayth’s patience grew shorter and shorter. He stood and walked to the flap in the tent. All of the arguments stopped.
“Rayth, where are you going?” asked Maldino.
“I’ve heard enough. You have pledged your warriors but these . . . men,” added Rayth, calming his anger slightly, “will not agree to anything. I have friends who will be fighting the beasts. I have already wasted too much time. If you wish to ride to Kal-Pharina, I will be riding southeast to Phadrine.”
“And you will die,” said Dnambi.
Rayth shot the fat chieftain a look that could kill. “Then I die,” he hissed. He left the tent and stalked back through the camp.
“Wait, my friend,” called Maldino rushing from the tent.
“I have waited for too long. My friends are waiting for me. I would rather turn up on my own than late. If I am to die, then I will die at their sides.”
“Give me time,” said Maldino softly.
“Cloud Rider, you’re my friend and understand when I say I will fight at my friends’ side. Enough talk. I had a mission to bring the Kharnacks and have failed. So, I will ride alone.”
“My warriors will come.”
“I hope so, but don’t leave it too long, brother.”
“I will not. Have one of my ponies to help you travel.”
“Thank you.” The two men shook hands. Later, Rayth rode from the Silverswords camp alone. Maldino watched his friend ride from the camp. He turned then walked back to the peace tent—his mood thunderous.
***
For several days, Rayth had ridden south through thick snow. He now rode on the green wet foothills of the Great Mountains to Phadrine. He had given up looking behind him to see if the Kharnacks were coming. His mood was sombre when he camped. He found a hollow and lit his fire next to a small cliff face to hide the smoke. He made himself a stew and when he had eaten, settled down for some sleep. Sleep would not come to the former axe-wielder and Dax’s face loomed in his mind. Rayth could see the disappointment in Dax’s violet eyes when he would arrive on his own. Dax had given him the task and here he was alone, a failure. Not one Kharnack warrior travelled with him to their aid.
Rayth watched the stars and thought of his daughter and the night the whore left her with him. That night, he was broken and drunk. His wife had died and he had taken to the drink. He had not opened his inn for days. He was going to refuse the babe, but in his dreams his wife spoke to him. He cried that day, but never regretted his decision to keep her. Now she was all grown up and planned to marry Zane—his daughter Queen of the Rhaurien. He smiled and like that fateful night, tears rolled down his cheeks. They were not only tears of pride for his daughter, but tears of failure. He had failed his friends and that hurt the big man. The hurt consumed him when he finally slept.
The next morning Rayth rose and packed away his camp. He mounted his mountain pony and continued to ride south. He looked up and saw grey storm clouds rolling in towards him. The clouds covered the sun, smudging everything with a grey tone. It did not take long for the rain to arrive. He cursed and pulled his oiled cloak from behind his saddle. He cursed again for the cloak had several rips from his fall in the mountains. The innkeeper shrugged and donned his hood. The day turned gloomy, matching the man’s mood.
Crackling lightning flashed in the sky. A few heartbeats later thunder clapped, then growled. Rayth looked up at the sky. The thunder rolled on and on, growing louder and louder. The former axe-wielder frowned, pushed back his hood, and swivelled in his saddle . . .
CHAPTER 16
THE DARKLORD PERSONALLY supervised the excavation and clearing of the cave-in within the fortress. Naats Flureic could not use his magic to clear the rubble. He needed a blood sacrifice to power his dark magic. The Dark One had been given power from the Prince of Darkness and had already destroyed two nations in his past. The Darklord had yet to achieve such success. However, with the deaths of the axe-wielders in the fortress he knew his magic would grow, but for him, it was painfully slow. Talon Hunters and Shadows used their claws to clear away the fallen sand and other debris. Many times, the damaged ceiling would disintegrate further, burying many of the creatures. But the beasts grafted around the clock in silence. They all knew the Dark One was waiting for them and they wanted to taste blood. Just the other side of the collapse was the blood they sought, human blood. The Darklord had brought through more beasts to help with the clearing and they were near to completing their task.
***
Captain Badu and his axe-wielders could just hear the creatures digging. The scraping and scratching noises increased and that meant they were getting closer. The first couple of days since the collapse had been hard for the axe-wielders. Just after the roof crumpled, they could hear the dull screams of death from their comrades on the far side. It was against everything the axe-wielders believed in—to leave their comrades in danger. They would fight to the last man regardless of the odds—the axe-wielders’ way. But here in the fortress their commander had ordered them to collapse the corridor, leaving a squad on the wrong side to be slaughtered. That had happened several days ago and now they waited.
Captain Badu looked around at his men. Of the five hundred who had entered the fortress, he only had three hundred and forty fighting men left. The rest had been killed or could not fight again. All of the warriors were grim-faced, but ready. Many of the men were sharpening their already sharp axes, whilst other slept. Badu was going to employ the same tactics as Fontis, a rolling retreat. Crossbowmen waited at the front, before the rubble. Behind them were men carrying long lancers and then groups of axemen. The only difference in the tactics could be summarised by the leader’s personality.
Fontis was a strong man and his personality matched his strength. He was not reckless, but if his king ordered him to hold, he would hold to the last man and that would undoubtedly be him. His rolling retreat would cost the beasts dearly as it had done so to now and also it would be expensive in terms of his men.
Whereas Badu would honestly admit to not being the bravest man, he was known throughout the army as being cautious and steady. He did not take too many risks in his career. Not a charismatic leader, he always followed procedure and would deviate very little from what he was told. His men respected him for they knew what he would do in given circumstances. But Badu knew he would never rise higher within the ranks of the army. He did not have the flair. Ultimately, his rolling retreat would be quicker and less effective.
Badu watched the rubble and waited for the first creature to appear. Unlike Fontis, when the fighting started, he would stand behind the last line. From there he would issue his commands. While there was no fighting, he waited at the front watching and listening. Badu’s mind drifted to his appointment in Fontis’s axe-wielders company.
The two men had very little in common. Badu could see that Fontis wanted to, and would, rise swiftly through the army ranks. The man had charisma, but one thing Badu could not understand was why Fontis had picked him as his second in command.
“It’s very simple,” Fontis had answered many months earlier. “I’m a leader, but I lead from the front, always at the heart of the fighting. I don’t care for supplies and logistics—I care about fighting and winning. That’s why I picked you. You’re a careful man. I don’t mean that with any disrespect, for without men like you, the army would fall apart. You worry about how we get somewhere, do we have enough food, water and equipment. Whereas I just want to get there and fight.
“Put simply, you naturally do everything I hate. If you look after the details, get my men and me to where we need to be—I guarantee we will win. That’s why I picked you above all others.”
Badu had instantly liked Fontis, for he knew his weaknesses and found a man who would protect, even hide them. Fontis never stepped into Badu’s planning of a march and Badu never
questioned his commander’s orders. Up to the cave-in the two men had, indeed, worked well together and their partnership began to gain notice by senior officers. Badu sighed. That was all well and good but here he stood without his commander, stuck in a fortress battling against hideous beasts in tight, crowded corridors. Badu looked over his shoulder. There were about two hundred strides of hallway before they reached the outer doors. Once there, one thousand strides across the open grounds of the courtyard to the wall. That was the part that bothered the captain. He was not sure if his men could outrun the beasts across the wide courtyard. The crossing that spanned the flowing moat could be held, but they would have to cross the killing ground of the courtyard first.
That’s for another day, thought Badu, but it continued to bother him. He always liked to have an escape route planned. The thought of dying terrified the man. Again, Badu sighed and turned to look at the debris. The scraping noises grew louder by the hour. He knew the beasts would break through soon, and then the bloodletting, the screams, the deaths would begin again.
Just at the top of the debris a few grains of sand trickled down the slope . . . then a few more. Soon, small stones began to fall, then some more. Suddenly, from the top of the debris pile, where it met the intact ceiling, long, clawed fingers appeared. A howl erupted. The hand started to push away the debris. An arm appeared . . . then a second. Soon, the gap was large enough for the Talon Hunter to push its head through.
Captain Badu licked his dry lips and stepped backwards away from the front line. The Talon Hunter howled at the waiting men. Several crossbowmen primed their weapons and fired at the creature. Many of the bolts aimed into its gaping maw found their target. The howling stopped. The Talon Hunter was still moving and another man fired his crossbow. The bolt flew and slammed into the beast’s left eye that burst, releasing clear liquid followed by blood.
“Hold your fire. It’s dead,” called Badu. “Others are pushing it through.”