by Brian Murray
Captain Jamie, the commanding officer, was a huge man with many battle scars criss-crossing his arms and face. The gruff man listened intently to what Zane had to say.
The captain rose and moved around the table and dropped to one knee. “Your Highness, I mourn your loss as if my own father had been struck down. I am yours to command.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Zane let Gan-Goran explain about the Dark Brethren and their mystic powers, and added that the axe-wielders should face these men with care.
The captain said coldly, “Let’s show these men what the Rhaurn axe-wielders can do. We will stop this marching force, and I promise you, my liege, they will not reach Teldor.” The captain reached for his axe. “We axe-wielders are great warriors and we will not let puny horsemen pass us.”
Zane smiled. “I would expect nothing less from my elite men. Now, Captain, we will sail further up the coast and leave the Dark Brethren to you. Do me proud.”
“They will not pass us, my liege.”
“Good,” concluded Zane.
***
The Gliding Falcon set sail as the axe-wielders marched west to the Glass Mountains to face the Dark Brethren. Captain Jamie pushed his four thousand men hard, knowing that their only chance was to face the horsemen in the mountain pass. Jamie was disappointed that his soldiers had to march to Kal-Pharina, but he now faced a fight and was ready to show what his men were capable of.
Marching his men through the night, he had to be sure to reach the Southern Pass before the horsemen; here he knew the Dark Brethren would have to dismount and lead their horses carefully through the razor sharp slope. In the Southern Pass, the enemy would be in the axe-wielders’ territory – on foot.
The captain and his men reached the pass by mid-day the following day and there were no new tracks; the Dark Brethren had not yet passed. The gorge was over twenty thousand paces long and littered with sharp rocks. Horses could make their way through the narrow pass but with the extra weight of a rider, their hooves would be cut to bits. The gorge had shallow sloping sides, littered with large rocks and outcrops and could easily hide an army. Behind the slopes, the sheer cliff face reached up to the skies – it was a perfect place for an ambush.
Calling up the wagons, Captain Jamie commanded his men to prepare for battle. The soldiers dressed in their chain mail and armed themselves with their axes. Scouts were sent ahead to ascertain how much time they had before the enemy arrived. He then ordered his force to split into three. Two thousand men would stand just inside the mouth of the pass, to lure the Dark Brethren in. One thousand men would wait on each flank and attack the warriors from the sides and rear.
The scouts returned. “Captain.”
“Report.”
“The enemy is just entering the pass on the eastern side. They should be upon us within the next two hours.”
“Well, that gives us enough time to finish our preparations,” said the captain, looking up at the grey overcast sky.
Calling together the company leaders, he issued his commands.
After an hour, with the axe-wielders in position, the Rhaurns waited for the horsemen to appear. Each man had his axe ready and a few men sharpened their blades in a pre-battle ritual. Others prayed to the Divine One, and a few slept. Each man had his own way to prepare for battle, and if necessary, death. This was very personal, private time for each warrior.
After another hour, Captain Jamie readied his warriors. The two thousand men in the centre of the gorge would face the brunt of the attack and Captain Jamie, the seasoned veteran that he was, stood in the centre. To the east, he could now see the enemy walking slowly towards their position, dust lifting behind them.
Turning his head to the left and then to the right he shouted, “For our king!”
The response from the axe-wielders was a resounding roar, but the men on the flanks remained quiet.
***
The Dark Brethren had been marching non-stop for over a week in an attempt to reach Teldor before the Rhaurn army. They were ordered to hug the southern coast and sack the town of Sandall, which held some of the Rhaurn army’s reserves. In anticipation of bloodshed they pushed themselves hard, to surprise the soldiers at their port barracks. They entered the Southern Pass of the Glass Mountains and dismounted to walk their horses. Not far from the end of the mountain pass, they heard a mighty roar. Confident of their own abilities, the Dark Brethren had not seen the need to send out scouts; they believed they could crush any force foolish enough to stand in front of them. But when shouts were heard in the distance, two scouts were sent ahead.
The scouts returned, reporting that armoured men blocked the pass. The Dark Brethren’s leader smiled at this apparent stroke of luck. They would quickly destroy the enemy – according to his scouts, his army outnumbered the Rhaurn by over two to one. Once they had crushed these men, the sacking of Sandall would be completed with ease; they could take their time and enjoy themselves.
The Dark Brethren moved their horses to the rear of the column and prepared to advance on the Rhaurns. In marching rows of twenty-five men each, the Dark Brethren moved westward, eager for the kill.
***
On the slopes north and south, the Rhaurn company leaders could see the black armoured men had grouped themselves into a fighting square of twenty-five men wide and around ninety men deep. The remaining men held the horses back, waiting for the fighting to finish.
***
At the western edge of the pass, Captain Jamie could see that the Dark Brethren had done as he had hoped. From the description the magic-master, Gan-Goran, had given, he had expected they would be overconfident, and that would be their downfall. Jamie spat on his hands, rubbing the saliva into his palm and fingers. Holding one of his axes aloft, he ordered a slow steady march. He had to meet the enemy about one hundred paces further into the pass for his plan to work. The warriors were doing exactly as Jamie had anticipated, and this now caused the seasoned officer to fret. If he had forgotten something, it was too late.
About fifty paces short of the enemy, he called a halt to the march.
***
The Dark Brethren continued their slow march and came within twenty paces of the axe-wielders. They had been instructed not to use their powers and to save their strength for the enjoyment of sacking Sandall. Here in the pass, the Dark Brethren would rely on their fighting prowess, speed, and skill. They had nothing to fear for they were the best and only a few thousand Rhaurns faced them. Nothing could defeat the Dark Brethren.
***
At twenty paces, Captain Jamie raised both his axes. This action issued several commands. His men changed their formation to form two fighting wedges. On the slopes of the pass, his hidden force rose and started to charge down towards the enemy. Lowering his axes as the signal, Jamie led his warriors and charged into the Dark Brethren’s front ranks.
***
Too late, the leader of the Dark Brethren realised his mistake and tried to pulse his command to change formation . . .
***
Captain Jamie raced forward like a man possessed. Aiming for the warrior with the plumed helm, he swung one of his axes and cut through leather straps, chain mail, skin, muscle, and bone, to decapitate the man.
No command to change formation reached the Dark Brethren and the axe-wielders’ charging wedges smashed deep into the Dark Brethren’s ranks, forcing their flanks out towards the axe-wielders charging down the slopes on either side.
The bloody fighting began. Axes hacked through all that stood in their way. The weight of the axe-wielders slamming into the Dark Brethren’s flanks caused the elite dark force to buckle. Roaring in battle frenzy, the axe-wielders penetrated deep into the enemy’s square.
Carving a path to the centre of the enemy, Captain Jamie was covered in blood. Killing with his two axes, kicking fallen men and chopping the wounded, he showed no mercy. He screamed, “For the Rhaurns! For our king!”
Blocking a sword swing with one
of his axes, he cut the warrior down with his other axe. Ignoring a sharp pain in his side, the huge axe-wielder twisted and sliced clean through his attacker’s arm. Raising his other axe, he chopped down, ploughing the blade through the warrior’s helm and skull, to reach the once protected soft tissue of his brain.
All around Jamie, his men were chopping and killing, but casualties were high. Pushing on, Jamie continued letting loose with his death swings. He plunged both axes forward, crushing them through a warrior’s black breastplate. Lifting the warrior with his axes above his head, Jamie spun around and dropped the man on the ground, forcing his axes through the body to kiss the soil below. Wrenching his axes clear, he sought his next victim.
Following their captain, the axe-wielders butchered the Dark Brethren like crazed demons.
***
The Dark Brethren could feel the battle turning against them and tried to regroup, but the madmen and their deadly axes surrounded them. Their swords could not withstand a blow from the thicker, deadlier axes they faced, and blocking a swing from the axe was impossible; the stronger weapons easily snapped their blades, making the swordsmen completely vulnerable to attack.
***
An hour after the fighting started, the axe-wielders killed the last remaining Dark Brethren. The few Dark Brethren holding the horses escaped, heading back to the east. But this did not matter, as Captain Jamie had succeeded in his mission. The force had been stopped and his axe-wielders were victorious. Holding aloft his bloodied axes, the Captain roared with delight. The surviving axe-wielders lifted their weapons and roared with their captain.
Jamie looked around the battlefield and estimated that at least half of his force had been killed or injured during the fighting – the cost of war. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to the Divine One to lead his fallen men to Paradise. He told her that they defended their lands against evil and would be grateful for Her guidance.
Now, as the adrenaline subsided, he felt the pain in his side, and fell to one knee. A healer rushed over to the captain, but he waved the man off, ordering him to look after the other injured men. He would wait. Jamie looked at his men with pride, a smile fixed on his grimy, bloodied face. No one knew exactly when Captain Jamie’s soul left his body, but when they found him, he still had a proud smile on his face. The surviving axe-wielders took his body, along with those of the other fallen comrades, back to their barracks in Sandall, for burial.
Captain Jamie was buried with his two axes and his helm. His tombstone was marked:
Here lies Captain Jamie.
The man who stopped the forces
of evil at Southern Pass
He was an axe-wielder
A true Rhaurn
Captain Jamie’s soul met those of his men on the Grey Path, all in full gleaming battle dress. He looked around and frowned; they were not in Paradise, that was obvious. Toneless grey surrounded them – grey hills, grey sky, even grey soil and plants.
“Captain Jamie,” came a feminine voice.
The warrior turned and saw the image of a woman in a white robe with white, silvery long hair.
“Are you the Divine One?” he asked.
The woman just smiled.
He dropped onto one knee and bowed deeply. Seeing their captain bowing, the other dead axe-wielders followed his lead.
“My men and I have fought against the forces of evil, and request entrance to Paradise.”
In a sweet, musical voice, the woman answered, “Captain, please rise. I have but one more task for you and your men before you can enjoy an eternity of happiness. You have battled against the Dark One’s minions in life and the comrades who stood with you are all here. You are all the strongest of men and your king will need you in this grey realm and beyond. Will you go to his aid?”
“If my king needs me, ma’am, please show me where we need to go and we will serve him.”
“I hoped you would feel that way, Captain. Some of your men may want to go to Paradise now, and they may leave.”
All the axe-wielders remained kneeling, waiting for the command. Captain Jamie’s heart swelled with pride.
“Good,” she added with a smile. “Remain on this path and do not venture off it for any reason, no matter what you see or hear. Stay on the Path. Head in this direction and I will join you again when the time comes. You are the elite and your king is a lucky man to have warriors such as you serving him,” said the woman, as she faded away. “Remember, stay on the path . . .”
Captain Jamie rose and turned to face his men. “Come, men, we have work to do before we can rest.” He smiled as his men rose, straightened their backs and roared, “To our king!”
“Let’s go,” he replied.
The axe-wielders who fell at the Southern Pass marched along the Grey Path, which appeared endless . . .
***
The Gliding Falcon sailed around the Elbow, then up the western coast of the Kingdom, anchoring off the coast by the small fishing village of Ludlom. Zane told the Admiral to wait there for them while he and Dax, Thade, Tanas, Gammel, and Gan-Goran took the admiral’s launch to the shore. Once there, they purchased horses and made the short trek to Teldor. The journey would only take a day. Zane was anxious to make sure that his city had not been put to the torch.
The group rode all night and at dawn came within sight of the city. They crested a hill and looked across at Teldor’s great outer wall. Leaving Gan-Goran behind to rest, the remaining five men rode forward to seek a better vantage point.
***
At dawn, Chaos walked from his room onto his balcony, to gaze out at the sunrise. In the distance he saw five black dots cresting a hill . . .
***
Pedrous, a soldier of the Horde, was an educated man with some talent, and had trained to become initiated into the Dark Brethren’s ranks. At dawn, he patrolled and looked east to see the sun rise above the hills. Over the next hill, through the rose-coloured light of the rising sun, a dark shape solidified. It came closer, and Pedrous could make out the distinct forms of five riders, their cloaks bellowing in the morning breeze. Each rider rode a pale horse. From the ancient scroll, a saying came to Pedrous’ quivering lips:
‘Behold a pale horse. Its rider’s name is Death, and Hell follows him.’
As the five edged forward, one warrior looked up at the palace, and smiled. “I have come, my brothers. Death has returned and Hell follows me.”
***
High in the palace, from his balcony, Chaos felt the impact of the words, and strained his eyes to see the men. “Come, my brother, I am ready for you!” he called.
***
Pedrous regained his composure and shouted an alert to his comrades.
***
Seeing the Horde racing up the hill, Zane and his group galloped away, back in the direction of Ludlom. Taking a slight diversion to lead the men away from the port, Zane and his men camped in a hollow about half a day’s ride away deep within a woodland. After enjoying another of Gan-Goran’s stews the men bedded down for the night and slept, leaving one on guard. All were content after seeing that Teldor, even though captured, appeared undamaged.
Gan-Goran walked over to the man on watch and sat next to him.
“How do you fare?”
“Fine, thank you.”
Gan-Goran noticed the man rubbing a black crystal that hung around his neck on a golden chain.
“That is the crystal,” he whispered, his eyes widening.
“Aye, it is. But ask nothing further.”
“Then you are . . .”
“I said, ask nothing further, old man,” hissed the warrior, his eyes glowing bright red.
“But you’re taking it to him, that’s the last link for the Resurrection.”
The man ignored him for a moment, and then said, “I know what I am doing.”
“Let’s hope so. Can I see it?”
The warrior removed the chain from around his neck and handed it to Gan-Goran.
The ol
d magic-master dropped the crystal as if stung.
“Sorry, I am not used to the power of it.” On the ground he moved some leaves, found and retrieved the crystal, holding it by the chain. “Just think, this is the gateway to Darkness,” said Gan-Goran, as he admired the beauty of the black gem. “How can you still have the crystal after all this time?”
“That is my secret, old man.”
“You call me old. You must be . . .” Gan-Goran did some mental calculations, “. . . over two thousand years old.”
“As I said, it is my secret,” replied the warrior, his voice chillingly cold. “Now leave me be and do not utter a word to the others. When the time comes, I will show my true being. Until then, my friends are not to know. Do you understand me?”
“I understand,” answered Gan-Goran, bowing his head slightly.
“Good, now go.”
Gan-Goran left the man sitting away from the fire in the undergrowth. He joined the four other men sleeping by the fire and settled down with a contented grin.
***
At sunrise, the men left their camp and rode back to Ludlom. Then they sold the horses and returned onboard the Gliding Falcon.
“Zane, what do we do now?” asked Gan-Goran.
“We’re going into the city.”
“How?”
“We will sail as close as we can without being spotted and then row in at night.”
“And where do we go once we are there? We cannot go to the palace, and I wager the soldiers and possibly the City Watch have all been killed.”
“I know a place to go.”
“Oh, and where’s that, may I ask?” asked Gan-Goran.
Zane smiled his crooked smile. “It’s a surprise,” he answered, as they neared the Gliding Falcon.
Once all were safely aboard, the admiral set sail for Teldor.
***
On the second night, the Gliding Falcon stopped outside Teldor Bay and a small boat was lowered into the water. The night was dark and still, the moon hidden behind a bank of thick cloud – perfect conditions.
