A New Reign

by Bryan Gifford

  Joshua plopped down with a hot bowl of stew, savoring the bouquet of aromas that wafted up to greet him. He leaned back against his pack and basked in the sun’s faint rays and felt the cool threads of wind that rolled off the lake. He listened to his friends’ stories and laughed at Silas’ grand tales.

  These were the moments that made life worth living. These were the moments he fought for.

  Cain lifted his head off the ground, face drenched with sweat. Dirt fell as he rose to his knees. The stifling air pressed around his chest and made it difficult to breath. He noticed a figure standing nearby, face masked in shadow.

  The man remained silent, blood trickling from his sword to puddle at his feet. The figure extended his blade to Cain and took a step forward. Cain fumbled to his feet and instinctively reached for Ceerocai, but the sword was missing from its sling.

  The man took a second step forward. Cain backed up as the man took a third step, then another, then another. Cain searched desperately about for a weapon, but only barren earth did he find. He staggered back as the man continued to approach, defenseless in this strange and silent world.

  The man lunged forward, sword raised.

  Cain shot up from his mat. His heart thumped in his chest, skin cold with sweat.

  He laid back down and stared up at his trembling hands. He felt as if he’d had that dream before. Why couldn’t he defend himself, and why did that man want to kill him? Who was he? It had felt so real….

  A faint noise reached his ear, snapping him from his thoughts. Did he wake because of the dream or because of that noise? There it was again. The slightest crunch of pebbles. His tent flap opened, and a shadow split the starlight. Cain froze and peered at the dark outline of a man.

  A glint of metal flashed in the pale light. The man bowed into Cain’s tent and the flap closed behind him.

  He raised his knife over Cain. His unsteady breathing filled the silence of the tent.

  Cain rolled from his mat as the blade slammed into his bedding. He dove and grabbed his attacker’s arms in mid swing. The two wrestled for control of the dagger, the tip squirming toward Cain’s stomach. The man sneered down at him with hate, eyes narrowed and red, face flushed with exertion. His sweat dripped down on Cain’s face.

  He twisted and the dagger stabbed into his mat again. Cain grabbed the man’s wrist, and with the other hand, ripped his attacker’s helmet off and slammed it into his face.

  His attacker staggered from the blow, and Cain tackled him into the canvas wall. The tent ripped from its stakes and crumpled around them.

  The two struggled among the tangle of canvas, dagger lost. Cain’s foe managed to free his sword but Cain rolled away, hand falling on Ceerocai. The man fell over him, and Cain swung, hacking his arm off in one clean blow. The man howled in pain as Cain thrust his sword up through his gut.

  “Who are you?” he screamed, shaking the man as he slipped down the blade. His warm blood trickled over Cain’s fingers. The man’s eyes rolled back, and his body fell limp. Cain cursed and shoved him away to crawl free of the tent. Hundreds of shadowy figures poured from the tree line and into the camp.

  No. This couldn’t be happening! Cain’s mind screamed.

  “Ambush!”

  Cries split the air as men awoke to their deaths, throats slit in the night. Soldiers stumbled out of their tents, half dressed and weapons in hand. Screams continued as men struggled to grasp what was happening, only to be hacked down in their confusion.

  “To your weapons!” Cain yelled as he sprinted through the camp. Soldiers shot from their tents; sleep still weighty on their eyes as they fumbled about. A wall of men rushed into their camp, armed with long swords and encased in solid black armor, barely visible in the night.

  Soldiers screamed in fear and confusion as the strange men charged through the camp, slaughtering indiscriminately. Bodies dropped.

  A man rushed at Cain, but he deflected the attack and rammed his sword into the man’s chest. His attacker fell back, breastplate caved in and blood bubbling from his mouth.

  Something crashed into Cain. The breath shot from his lungs and he crashed into the side of a tent. He rolled over to see what had struck him. An Alliance soldier’s body.

  He made to stand, but paused, feeling something wet and sticky on his hands. He looked down to see a twisted figure in the dark. Matthew, slain in his sleep, staring up at the sky as blood oozed from his lacerated throat.

  A soldier charged him. Cain raised his sword in defense but the man’s head suddenly shot off and his body collapsed to the ground. Joshua towered over the corpse, heaving with rage, face sprayed with blood. “That’s for Matthew, you bastards!”

  Cain nodded in gratitude. “Where are the others?”

  “I don’t know; I’m still looking for them! What’s going on?”

  Cain shook his head and looked around the chaotic scene. “I don’t know.” His voice trailed off as he saw Adriel yards away, fending off several men.

  A group of black-armored soldiers sprinted toward them with weapons raised.

  Joshua shoved Cain away. “Go help Adriel!” He turned and lifted his axe. “Leave them to me.”

  Cain looked to the body of Matthew a final time before rushing Adriel’s attackers. He dropped two men from behind with a powerful swing and slipped past the others.

  Adriel pulled her sword from a man’s throat and together, they fell back to a line of their own soldiers. These few men held firm, forming a solid wall of steel against the enemy’s testing strikes.

  More and more of the black-armored men appeared from the darkness. Cain spared a glance for his few men. They wouldn’t last long.

  A horn blew four short notes in the night, and suddenly the attackers pulled from the fight and retreated to the surrounding trees. The Alliance soldiers blinked in surprise and a few chased after them. They brought down several of the withdrawing men and hacked away at their bodies.

  The Warriors charged after the retreating soldiers. Joshua rushed ahead with his brother, swinging his massive axe into their ranks. He nearly cut a man in half, sliced the legs off a second, and severed the spine of a third.

  He pulled his axe from its victim and looked around the chaos. There, through the sea of soldiers, he spotted Silas charging after a man. Beyond the tree line, he saw the gleam of a black arrow aimed at his brother’s back.

  “Silas! Look out!” he bellowed and charged the hooded archer. The man turned to him, and released. The broadhead thumped into Joshua’s chest. He stopped in his tracks, body shuddering from the blow.

  Silas pulled Sitare from his kill and turned. His grin faded at the sight of his brother. “Josh!” he called to him, but he was too far away.

  With fluid hands, the archer nocked another arrow and aimed. The second projectile shot forward and buried deep in Joshua’s chest.

  He let out a breathless gasp. With the last of his strength, he lurched back and lobbed his weapon through the air. The hefty axe tumbled over itself and crashed into the tree beside the man’s face with a spray of bark.

  Joshua staggered forward a final step before falling to his knees. Blood trickled from his mouth as he struggled to stand.

  Silas roared and launched Sitare after the fleeing archer. The weapon hurtled through the air before narrowly missing its target, plunging its four massive blades into the trunk of a tree. The man disappeared into the forest with the last of the assailants.

  Silas rushed over to his brother and threw himself down beside him. Cain skidded up beside them, body numb with shock.

  Blood trickled from Joshua’s tunic to pool about him as he gasped for air. He blinked up at them as a tear swelled in his eye. “The one time I don’t wear my armor. I guess I polished it for nothing.”

  “You just had to go and get yourself hurt, didn’t you?” Silas asked with a forced smile.

  Joshua managed a smile. “It can’t be that bad.” He looked down at his chest. Blood gushed from his ribs with every painful e
xhale. “Shit.”

  “I’ll get help, just hang on.” Silas tried to stand but Joshua grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.

  “There’s nothing you can do. I’ve spent my whole life learning how to die. I know when it’s time… let me have my peace. I die knowing the path I followed was the right one.”

  “No,” Silas stammered, “no, don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine, damn it!”

  Joshua coughed. “I love you, brother….”

  Silas fell over him, tears now streaming down his face. “Don’t go! I need you.” Joshua raised a hand and rested his bloody fingers on his brother’s neck.

  “You’ll be fine. You’re a better man than I ever was.”

  “Don’t go, Josh,” Silas choked through tears. “Don’t you leave me.”

  Joshua rested his head back in the rocks. He slowly closed his eyes, and, with a final breath, his chest fell still.

  Silas bowed his head and cried over the body of his fallen brother.

  Left Behind

  Silas gazed out over the lake, abandoned in the clutches of his own dark thoughts. Dawn’s soft blue light trickled across the pristine surface.

  Joshua had been at Silas’ side every day since their parents dumped them in a muddy field outside Andaurel. And now he was gone. It was like waking up with your arm missing, he figured. Silas felt absence for the first time in his life. Even his anger was quelled beneath the overwhelming loneliness.

  He stood silent and unmoving as soldiers dashed about him, packing their rucksacks and tearing down their tents in a frenzy. They carried the bodies of the deceased from their tents and lined them up along the lakeside. A solemn yet hasty procession began as they stripped their fallen brethren of their weapons and armor and anything else they could carry.

  Nearly half their number lay dead on the lakeside.

  The other Warriors stepped from the crowds and watched him. Adriel stopped beside Silas. She held out a flower, vibrant with its thin, white pedals. Silas said nothing. How could he, when his body just wanted to collapse and give up? She knelt beside Joshua and slipped the white flower through his crossed hands.

  “Silas.” Isroc came a cautious step forward. “We have to go. We can’t stay here.”

  He continued to stare over the lake. Its waters shimmered in the faint dawn. He had to make his mouth work. “He died to save me… it’s my fault he’s dead.”

  “He died to save his brother,” Isroc tried to comfort, “and I know he would do it again if he could.”

  “He’s the only family I’ve ever had. He’s the only one who’s been there for me through everything! And now he’s gone. How can this happen?”

  “I know it’s hard,” Cain said, “you’ll go mad seeking the why of things, trust me. You can only learn how to harness the pain.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Silas grimaced.

  “No, it’s not. Joshua was a brother to me. I’ve known the three of you my entire life.” Cain held out a hand. “But we must grieve for him later; right now, we have to get these men out of here. Joshua would want us to carry on.” Silas managed a nod, still not looking away from his brother.

  “We need to get moving,” Isroc urged as their soldiers filed into formation.

  “What about his body?”

  “We don’t have time. We—”

  “Bullshit! I’m not leaving until he gets a proper burial. It’s the least I can do for him.”

  “We can’t pick favorites, Silas,” Isroc said. “If we bury your brother then we’ll have to bury all of them, and we don’t have time for that.” He gestured for him to follow. “Now, let’s go.”

  Silas collapsed over his brother’s body abandoned among the two thousand dead. He rested a hand against his brother’s face, his skin already chilled.

  “It’s my fault you’re dead. It’s my fault. It’s my fault…” He dug into the dirt with bare hands.

  And there it was, the anger. Anger at the world, anger at himself.

  “My whole life you’ve been there for me, taught me all I know. What am I supposed to do without you? Damn it, what am I supposed to do?” He continued his frantic digging, nails bleeding as he churned the rocky earth.

  The Warriors leapt over him and pulled him to his feet. Silas growled and punched Cain in the face, spraying him with blood and dirt. Aren grabbed his arms and Isroc punched him in the gut. Silas crumpled to his knees.

  “Damn it, Silas!” Isroc cursed. “Get your shit together! Sadness is no excuse for madness!”

  “I have to bury him! He’s my brother, my only family! He would have done the same for me!”

  “We’re your brothers now!” Isroc lowered his voice as every nearby soldier watched them curiously. “We are your family. We have to look out for each other and these men. Joshua knew that, and you do too.”

  Cain wiped the blood from his face and knelt before Silas. “Look, we’ve been friends all our lives. You know the pains I’ve suffered just as I know yours. You have to—”

  “You can stop there, Cain,” Silas muttered. “I know what you’re going to say.” He rose to his feet and Cain followed suit. “Let’s just get out of here.” Cain embraced him.

  Silas sank into the hug, sobs muffled in his friend’s shoulder. He stood there for a moment, broken, his friend’s strong arms the only thing keeping him up. Shaking himself, he wiped his eyes and pulled away. The nearby soldiers bowed their heads.

  Silas nodded to his friends and stepped away, unable to look back at his brother.

  Cain sounded the call to march. The three thousand shouldered their rucksacks, formed into columns, and began their quiet procession into the wilderness.

  The Warriors led their remaining troops through the forest. The sun arced sluggishly across the clouded skies. The yellow light sifted through the evergreens, a gentle breeze whispering through their boughs.

  The men were silent, tense. Red eyed and heavy hearted, they glanced at every shadow. Cain had tripled the scouting patrols, but that did little to calm their nerves. Hands twitched to weapons and the occasional sob split the quiet.

  Silas sagged in his saddle, letting his horse slow to a stop. He had to keep going. One foot before the other. He should’ve died, perhaps that would’ve been for the better.

  He was suddenly knocked from his saddle and sent tumbling down a hill. He rolled to a stop and blinked up at the gray sky.

  Isroc jogged toward him, laughing heartily. “You practically flew there! Don’t drift off again, mate!”

  “Sod off, asshole,” Silas spat as he rose and brushed at his armor.

  “Sorry,” Isroc frowned. “In poor taste, I suppose. I’m just trying to help. It’ll eat you alive if you dwell on it for too long.”

  “You’re a bloody idiot, you know that?”

  “Look, I know what you’re going through. We’ve all lost something to this war.”

  “My brother wasn’t just something.”

  Isroc shook his head. “You know that’s not what I meant. I lost my daughter, Claire, remember?” Silas dipped his head. “My family, my home, my marriage. The loss will consume you if you let it.” They walked through the forest in silence for a time, the three thousand marching nearby. They soon rejoined the Warriors.

  “Who were those men?” Silas asked. Just thinking about them made the rage boil inside him. He clenched his fists.

  “Probably the Iscara,” Isroc offered.

  “I don’t think so,” Aren replied.

  “Why not? They wore the black armor.”

  “Their armor wasn’t the same, and they didn’t fight like them either. Remember the Iscara we fought in Alon Heath?” The others nodded, shivering.

  “Well, they may not have fought with fire and light, but it had to have been them. Why would anyone else want to kill another man? Humans haven’t fought each other since Abaddon’s rise.”

  “What about Inveirans, then?” Cain suggested.

  Aren shrugged. “No, that wouldn’
t make sense. Sure, Erias and Inveira have never liked each other, but there hasn’t been any actual fighting in over four centuries. Why start now?”

  Isroc arced a brow. “Who could they be then?”

  Aren sighed. “I don’t know if I want to find out.”

  “Well I do,” Silas growled. “And we’ll kill them all, whoever they are.”

  The Alliance continued through the wilderness as the light of day slowly departed. Down a dusky wagon road, they marched, the miles gradually slipping by.

  A soft crunch of rock and leaves reached their ears.

  Hyper vigilant, Silas drew his hand instinctively to his back. It was them again. It had to be! A familiar rasp of wood echoed, and he thrust out Sitare as a man stepped from the trees. The weapon’s blades pricked the man’s neck even as he trained his longbow on Silas. Silas glared down the arrow shaft at the soldier. Behind, a dozen other men had appeared from somewhere, bows aimed at the Warriors.

  Unflinching, the Warriors raised their weapons. The three thousand behind them watched on with wide eyes.

  “Drop your weapons!” the man before Cain cried. He looked over the vast columns that encompassed them, waiting for their submission. None obeyed.

  “Drop your weapons,” Cain said with a smirk, Ceerocai propped under the man’s chin. The soldier only stared down his arrow at Cain.

  Silas pressed harder. Blood trickled from the man’s neck. The other archers redirected their bows on Silas. He could do it. He could end this man’s life, take one more of these traitorous bastards before he died. A group of Alliance archers burst forward and aimed their bows at the soldiers before Silas could do anything. Cain smiled at the man who still had an arrow trained on his face.

  The soldier shrugged. With a soft voice unbefitting his rugged face, he threatened, “I don’t want to do it, but if your men don’t lower their weapons, we’ll just kill you five.”

  Cain stepped forward, putting his face so close to the loaded broadhead that it could have trimmed his goatee. “Do it.”