by Brian Murray
An hour before dawn, after Zorain had changed out of his Watchman’s uniform, he and Rayth sneaked out of the tavern and headed to see the Mistress. This would be Zorain’s first meeting with the elusive woman.
Chapter 24
Hearing news that Rhamagabora was in fact Teldor forced Zane to sit down; his mood
darkened, and his body felt weak. If his father had done what he should have when gathering his army, there would only be one company of Royal Lancers left to protect the city. The young king shook his head. The voice of his father rumbled through his brain: “Son, you can do whatever you set your mind to. You will be a great king, but always remember, look after your people; they must always come first. The Rhaurn’s safety and especially Teldor must forever be paramount in your thoughts.”
Zane looked up, suddenly realising that everyone was waiting for him to speak. Even the Chosen, his new friend, was regarding him expectantly.
“General Brooks, we believe that my city of Teldor may be compromised. We need our army ready to march home immediately. I want our army at the gates of Teldor within one month.”
The general could not hide his shock, but like the true professional he was, he simply answered, “I will see to it, your Highness.”
“Rowet, can General Gordonia lead my army back across the Steppes? I know you have to regain control of your Empire, but I would appreciate his assistance.”
“Zane, my daughters are in Teldor, so you will have all the assistance I can give.”
To General Gordonia the Chosen commanded, “Gordy, you will take two thousand clansmen and march with the Rhaurn, and bring my daughter back.”
General Gordonia bowed. “As you command, I will bring Princess Ireen home safely.”
“Now I need to get to Teldor before you. I will ride to the coast, find Admiral Rendel, who should be waiting for me at Sal-Daarina, and set sail to Teldor.”
“Your Highness, may I make a suggestion?” said General Brooks.
“Speak, man, this is no time for formalities,” said Dax, annoyed.
“We have three thousand seasoned axe-wielders stationed at Sandall. May I suggest you dock there and use those men?”
Zane smiled his crooked smile as a plan formed in his mind. Turning to his companions he said, “I will not command any of you to come with me, but your companionship and skills are greatly needed.”
Dax led the men by stepping forward and bowing on one knee. “I am yours to command, my king.”
Thade, Tanas, Gammel, and Gan-Goran followed suit. Zane’s smile broadened. “My friends, if you do anything so formal to me again, I will have you thrown into my dungeons in Teldor,” he said jokingly.
“Well, your Highness, I have been formal yet again. So we had better go and get your city back so you can throw me in your dungeons,” said Dax with a cheeky grin.
“Generals, I will leave the march home in your capable hands. My friends and I have a boat to catch. We should depart now.”
As the men turned to leave the room, the Chosen held Thade back. When alone, the Chosen whispered to Thade, “Bring my daughter back to me.”
“I will.”
“Thade . . . I want you to promise me.”
“Pardon?”
“I want you to promise me. You are like Dax, and will never knowingly break a promise. So promise you will bring my only child back to me.”
Thade looked into the Chosen’s eyes. “I promise,” he said.
Thade then turned to join his companions, leaving the Chosen alone in his throne room. Their adventures were far from over.
***
Zane, Dax, and the others, together with five Imperial Guards, hurried towards the port of Sal-Daarina. At the same time, the Rhaurn army finished burying their dead and prepared to march back across the Steppes, led by General Gordonia.
After two days of hard riding, the men reached the port of Sal-Daarina. Waiting in the port was the Gliding Falcon and Admiral Rendel. Zane and the others boarded the ship and within an hour, they had left the port and were out on the open sea, where Dax advised the old admiral of their destination.
Once the ship had set sail, Admiral Rendel went below deck to see Zane. He knocked on the door to the cabin he had given up for the young king.
“Come in.”
Rendel entered the room and saw that Zane was alone. He paused for a moment to study the young king before speaking. “Zane, you have my deepest sympathies for your loss. Your father was a great man and my friend.”
Zane had not thought of his father’s death in the last two days, as the army quickly rode southeast to Sal-Daarina. “Thank you, Reedie.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Yes, you can get me to Teldor as soon as possible. The freedom of our Kingdom and our neighbouring nations may very well depend upon our swift arrival.”
“We have the wind in our sails and we will be there as quickly as the Divine One will allow. But I thought we were going to Sandall?”
“Yes, to start with. I need to ready the reserves we have there. But then I intend to sail into my city.”
“That may not be wise at this time, Zane.”
Zane looked up, anger in his eyes. “Those men have taken my city with my family still there. I will get my city back and free my people.”
Admiral Rendel smiled. “I would have expected nothing less from you.”
Zane smiled his crooked smile and his youthful age filled his face. “Just get me to Sandall and then we will recapture Teldor – that’s my promise.”
Admiral Rendel bowed and left the room, proud of his young liege.
***
For two days, the Gliding Falcon sailed along the southern coast, heading for Sandall. On the third day, a sailor in the crow’s nest high up the main mast caught sight of an army marching west towards the Glass Mountains and called a warning.
Dax, using a long spyglass, recognised the warriors. “They are the Dark Brethren from the Grey Castle. They must be heading for Teldor.” He paused and turned to Zane. “They must be stopped.”
“What can we do?”
“We need to arrange a welcoming party for them. We will have to put the axe-wielders in their path to stop them.”
“Can they stop them?” asked Gan-Goran. “They have mystic powers.”
“They may have mystic powers, but nothing can stop the power of an axe blade,” answered Dax with pride.
“Speed, Admiral, we need more speed and we must move further away from the coast. We must not be spotted if we are to set a surprise for that vermin,” called Zane.
“Aye, aye,” answered the admiral. To his sailors, he called, “Full sails!”
***
The Horde arrived at the city of Teldor at dawn, and were through the gates by midday. They took their positions on the outer wall while two thousand of them marched to the inner wall, which remained protected by Baron Chelmsnor, Captain Russ, and his Royal Lancers. When General Carash arrived he saw the Dark Brethren waiting below the wall, out of bow range of the defending Royal Lancers. From what the general could tell, so far not a single arrow had been shot or a blade drawn.
“Greetings, Lord Malice,” said Carash, riding up to the massive warrior.
“You have arrived, good. Prepare your men for an assault on the wall. Get ladders and a battering ram. I want the wall taken by dusk,” commanded Malice.
“It will be done, my lord.”
General Carash barked his orders and looked up at the defenders. He smiled. The palace will be mine by nightfall, he concluded.
***
Rayth and Zorain visited Emyra at her home at dawn. They talked over the situation and the Mistress agreed with Rayth. “You now know who I am, Zorain,” said Emyra, “At this time that knowledge does not matter, as I am your only chance of regaining the city. But when the time comes, and it will, we will have to talk again. Rayth, you need to gather our people together to cause as much inconvenience for these invaders as possi
ble. We must ensure they do not settle, and when the time is right, we will hit them from the inside.”
“Zorain, I will leave it to you to gather and ready the city reserves, but we need to tread carefully in case there are spies. My people will spread the news. In the meantime, Rayth and I will help plan the rebellion from the tavern.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Zorain.
“Do not thank me now, Captain. Wait until this is over, then you can thank me. Now, the two of you know what to do. Go, and be alert, as we do not know who are friends and who our foes are. Tread carefully, and I believe the day will ultimately be ours.”
The two men left the Mistress. She readied some notes and called for her maid. Over the next couple of weeks, her power would be tested. She now had to give her assistance to an army; that was something new for the Mistress.
***
At the inner wall, the Horde returned, having raided stores to gather all the ladders and rope available in the city. They now waited for the command.
On the wall, Baron Chelmsnor had been waiting for the attack. The Royal Lancers had been kept up all night and were now wearily staring down at the defenders who continued to wait. Captain Russ realised that the silver warrior’s ploy was to keep them awake, as they had no intention of striking. He ordered the Royal Lancers to get some sleep while others took it in turns to keep watch – one in three slept in rotation, as the regulation stipulated.
Now, in the afternoon sun, all the Royal Lancers were ready for action. Below, the Horde finally prepared to attack.
Realising an attack was imminent, Baron Chelmsnor turned to his men.
“Men!” he called. “Let those whoresons feel our blades and arrows. We will take as many of them as we can. We will hold the wall and make our people proud. And let us avenge the women and children lost to those sor.”
When the baron finished talking, the Horde shouted and charged towards the wall.
“Hold your fire until you can see their ugly faces,” commanded Captain Russ over the clamour.
The Horde thudded their ladders against the walls.
“Do not push the ladders away until there are men climbing,” ordered Russ.
He grimaced; now the fighting would start. Glancing over the wall, he saw men climbing the ladders. He loaded his crossbow and prayed to the Divine One. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, relaxing breath.
Along the wall, the Royal Lancers waited for his command. He opened his eyes, looking proudly left and right at his company of hardened warriors. Most, if not all, would die on this day, but he swore that if he died, he would take as many of the enemy with him as possible.
“Let us kill some traitorous whoresons!” Russ bellowed. He leaned over the wall and fired his crossbow into the open mouth of a man climbing the ladder. The metal bolt exploded out of the man’s skull, showering the men below in crimson, grey matter, and shards of bone. The dead climber fell, taking two of his comrades with him crunching onto the ground. Russ pushed away the ladder, causing three more men to crash to the ground.
All along the inner wall of Teldor, the defenders pushed away ladders and fired their crossbows at point blank range. In the first hour, not one attacker reached the parapet and the Horde stepped back out of bow range. On the wall, a cheer went up from the defenders. The baron stood in his silk clothes, smiling down at the warriors in silver armour, who still waited patiently.
“Is that all you have?!” shouted Chelmsnor, beckoning the warriors to attack.
That was not all . . .
For the next two hours, the carnage continued below the wall, yet there was not a scratch on the defenders. Then the Horde took another approach. As they charged with their scaling ladders, their archers fired at the men on the parapet. The first Royal Lancer died as he attempted to push away a ladder. The arrow pierced his neck and seven more arrows thudded into his exposed body before he toppled from the rampart. The Horde climbed the ladders swiftly as arrows flew over their heads. When the arrows stopped, the defenders hesitated for the briefest moment. It was a moment too long.
The Horde swiftly gained a foothold on the parapet and the fighting became fierce. More and more Horde mercenaries clambered onto the rampart.
Four hours later, Captain Russ knew that he had lost the wall, though hundreds of the enemy now lay dead. But the sheer number of the remaining invaders pushed the Royal Lancers back.
The captain had one last surprise for the attackers. He called a retreat. Only thirty-two of the one hundred strong company of Royal Lancers scrambled off the wall and headed back to their barracks. When they retreated, the Horde screamed victoriously and soon the gates leading to the palace were opened. The Horde streamed through the gates, eager to destroy the Royal Lancers.
Suddenly the air filled with a familiar sound, the sound of hooves clattering on the bricked courtyard. From behind their barracks the Royal Lancers charged. Now on horseback, the Lancers were in their element. They cut through the foot soldiers like a warm knife through butter, reaching the gate, leaving behind them a wake of dead and wounded. Outside, the black-armoured warriors and the three silver warriors silently waited.
Captain Russ, injured and bloodied, raised his sword and called for another charge. Twenty-six Royal Lancers joined the charge into the Dark Brethren’s ranks. The Royal Lancers were hacked down without mercy and soon only Captain Russ remained, near death, swaying on his horse.
Malice heeled his horse and approached the last Lancer.
“Your men fought with honour and pride. I respect your dead.”
Captain Russ, still swaying in his saddle, smiled a bloody smile at the warrior. “Brave men all, we are the best.”
“I think not, my friend. You are all dead.”
Captain Russ reached down within his soul. With the last of his energy, he raised his cavalry sword and swung at the warrior in front of him. Before his sword hit its target his body was peppered with arrows. Dropping his sword, Russ gave another broad bloody smile to the warrior.
“I will see you in Hell,” he said.
Malice raised his sword. “You first.”
Without another word, he decapitated the captain with one mighty swing of his black broadsword. The head thumped against the ground several paces away, while the captain’s body slowly toppled from his horse and thudded on the paved ground with a sickening squelch. Without a second thought, Malice stepped over the pooling blood and led the way towards the palace.
***
At the palace steps, Malice dismounted and stepped forward, leading his horse.
Baron Chelmsnor walked out of the gloom to face the warrior. Carrying a sword in his left hand, the baron waited. An arrow thudded into the baron’s right shoulder and he grunted in pain, the force of the blow causing him to swivel around.
“Hold your fire!” boomed Malice, holding up his clenched fist, stepping closer to the baron. “I thought you had run and hid, Baron Chelmsnor.”
“From you, you lousy whoreson? I think not,” sneered the baron, blood running freely from his wounded shoulder.
Malice stepped forward.
“Remember this, I may not kill you now,” said the baron holding up his right arm, showing his stump, “but vengeance will be ours.”
Malice stepped forward. “I think not, Baron.”
The Baron smiled fiercely and charged the warrior.
At the last moment, Malice lifted his sword. Not seeing the movement, Chelmsnor ran onto the blade, impaling himself. Defiantly, the baron swung his sword; it clanged against Malice’s helm, knocking his head at an angle. The baron stared into the warrior’s helm, at his glowing red eyes. He so wanted to bring his sword to bear, but all the strength leached from his body and his weapon dropped from his hand. Malice straightened his head slowly, his eyes blazing brighter deep within his helm.
“At least you are game, Baron,” hissed Malice.
With blood drooling from his mouth, the baron smiled a crimson smile. “Mark my words,” he s
aid hoarsely, “death will come to you.”
“Bring him on,” answered Malice, misunderstanding what the baron had said, and twisted the sword that was buried in the baron’s chest.
He made no sound, but his eyes showed the pain he felt. Slowly, very slowly, Baron Chelmsnor slipped off the long sword and fell onto the bricked palace entrance, his dead eyes staring up at the warrior.
Malice wiped his black blade clean on the baron’s silk clothes, pushed his sword into his scabbard, stepped over the body, and headed for the doors to the palace.
***
The Darklord entered the palace with Malice, Chaos, and Fury, and they made their way to the throne room with their shield-men in tow. Malice sent some of the Dark Brethren to gather all the people in the palace in the main hall.
Once inside the throne room, Malice approached the throne and with one tremendous swing of his sword, he shattered the seat. The Darklord then stepped forward and uttered a few words of power, releasing the magic hexes. Reaching into the throne, he pulled clear a small leather pouch. He turned to his comrades and nodded slightly.
“We are nearly there, my friends. Soon all the pieces will be together. Now, let us see what offerings the palace holds for you.”
The group made their way to the main banqueting hall and the doors were opened. In the centre of the large room, the maids and servants of the royal family waited. The four men eagerly entered the room. The doors were closed.
The killing and feeding began.
***
Admiral Rendel and his crew docked the Gliding Falcon at Sandall, the warship looking out of place moored next to the small fishing boats.
Situated on the southern coast just west of the Glass Mountains, Sandall was a small fishing port and home to the legendary axe-wielders. Most of the houses of the port town were made from wood with only the main hall, the Temple of the Divine One, and officers’ barracks made from stone. Zane and his friends, together with Admiral Rendel wasted no time in rushing straight to the axe-wielders’ barracks. When they arrived, they were immediately escorted through the grounds to the commanding officer.
