Bladesorrow (The Agarsfar Saga Book 1)

by D. T. Kane

  “Raldon taught you some basic strategy, I’m sure,” Bladesorrow continued. “Battlefield tactics must be a mandatory part of the curriculum for preparing young men to go off to war.”

  Ferrin shrugged. Raldon had lectured all the students on such basics, and Ferrin had read more still in Ral Mok’s library.

  “Your plan is simple enough,” Ferrin said. “Which is good, I suppose. Less opportunity for someone to screw it up. Divide the men into six groups of five, one attuned of each element per group.” He’d actually been surprised to find the attunements at Glofar just as evenly distributed as in the South. Another one of Valdin’s lies, it seemed.

  Bladesorrow motioned for him to go on.

  “We have them form a wedge about the four of us—you, me, Nellis, Devan—then we charge straight through the shades. There’s sense in that, too, I think. From what I’ve seen, the shades are more dangerous the longer you fight them. Their time-slipping will be a limited advantage if we just barrel into them, particularly with us at the center with time to pick off any that get through.”

  “You’ll be primarily responsible for that,” Bladesorrow said. “Remember that Nellis and I will be shielding the others from the Parents’ hexes.”

  Ferrin nodded. That part of the plan had surprised him, and from Bladesorrow’s tone he remained less than convinced as well. But the Angel had apparently told Bladesorrow Ferrin could handle it. Which he could, of course. Ferrin didn’t like Devan and his schemes, but the Angel had certainly shown him things he’d never imagined possible. The only limitation was no shadow channeling. Bladesorrow had even taken the shadow-link dagger back. Ferrin hadn’t complained much over that. The last time he’d channeled shadow, Jenzara had...

  He shook that thought away. It didn’t matter now. They’d face whatever it was in the tower at Ral Falar, defeat it, and Jenzara would be fine. They had to. Bladesorrow’s plan didn’t account for any other outcome.

  “Have the others put together that your plan exposes them like cattle on the killing ground?”

  He expected this to draw some manner of ire from Bladesorrow, but he only nodded, as if expecting it. Ferrin dropped his brows, but finished the thought. “We charge through, get to the tower at the ruins’ center with all haste, then leave the rest below as we ascend. They’ll be surrounded by the enemy in unfamiliar terrain.”

  “The true battle will be at the top of the spire,” Bladesorrow said, continuing to gaze at the others.

  Ferrin remained silent for a time. It was a cold calculation, using these men like grains of sand in an hourglass, buying time with their lives.

  “Will they do it?” he finally asked.

  The edges of Bladesorrow’s eyes creased, lips thinning.

  “They’ll do as they must. What I say.”

  Ferrin’s eyebrows rose and he joined Bladesorrow in looking at the others.

  “You sound like the Angel,” he muttered. He’d thought the words too soft to hear over the panthers’ pounding feet, but Bladesorrow grimaced. Before he could say more, though, several uneasy rumbles from the men drew their attention. Ferrin immediately saw why. Poking through the haze was a tower. A singular spindle, coned roof ending in a needle point that lacerated the sky, as if it were the reason the heavens bled crimson. After a few moments he had to stop looking at it. All at once it somehow seemed strong and solid, an achievement of architecture, but also impossibly tall, as if it might snap under its own weight at any moment. It sent an ache straight to the backs of his eyes.

  They continued onward, several of the Northerners muttering prayers or Pathing themselves. And Ferrin couldn’t entirely blame them. It was like beholding a majestic creature’s death. As they progressed, more of the ruins came into view. The crippled buildings sagged and crumbled. Once mighty eaves and pediments had worn away to smudged blobs. Thick fog hung over the place, only adding to the sense of dreadful mystery. A stiff breeze came at them from the east, seeming to grow cooler the closer they came, carrying with it the whispers of lost memories and a foreboding he couldn’t shake. Somehow, the fog didn’t shift when struck by the wind, covering the ruins like a frozen shroud.

  When they were within a few thousand paces of the city he began to make out shapes moving about the decrepit structures. A row of white-robed men blocked the road leading into the ruins. Spread out before them, like a herd of cattle, were the meandering forms of shades—dozens of them—joints bent at inhuman angles. Every so often one would slip, reappearing several moments later. Ferrin realized that these minute disruptions in time agitated him. Devan had yet to tutor him in peregrination, but the Angel had performed a few simple acts of it in his presence, enough that he could now sense what the shades did. It was similar to Devan’s peregrination, but not the same. There was something empty to it, troubling, like a subtle nausea that wouldn’t dissipate.

  Bladesorrow had moved back to the front of their party and motioned for a halt. The shadow panthers stopped with predators’ grace, tails swishing, emitting low purrs of anticipation. Nellis broke ranks and urged his panther up next to Bladesorrow and the Angel. He wore attire similar to the others, though the colors of his armor were reversed—red with black trim. He too sported a Keeper’s tabard. Strapped across his back was a battle staff that seemed longer than the dwarf was tall. It pulsed with elemental power.

  “’Bout twenty,” Nellis was saying as Ferrin rode up to join the trio.

  Devan frowned, scratching the tear-shaped scar at the edge of his eye. He wore his typical frayed, rough-spun robe that hung loosely about his gaunt figure. The chained rings on his fingers chimed as he motioned at the ancient city looming before them.

  Ferrin unconsciously touched the necklace around his own neck. What the Angel had said about it seemed too incredible to be true. And yet he felt no doubt that the necklace was indeed an Aldur’s psychic weapon. What that meant about his father Ferrin didn’t know. He saw no reason to doubt Raldon’s explanation as to where it had come from, yet how could his father have come into possession of such an object?

  He tried to refocus on what the Angel was saying. Perhaps it could be a weapon, but not in its current state. A great need, Devan had said? If the trial facing them now didn’t qualify, it seemed unlikely the necklace would ever manifest its true nature.

  “There should be more than that,” Devan said. “I counted at least twice that many Parents when I was here last. Which was, oh let’s see,” he began counting on his fingers, looking up at the sky, “about three weeks ago your time.”

  Bladesorrow dropped a spy glass from his face, black eyes unreadable. He scratched at his unshaved face. The raw rasping it produced caused Ferrin to flinch. It seemed abnormally loud, with all the men silent, stewing in their anticipation and anxiety.

  “The Parents are many things,” Bladesorrow said, “but stupid is not one of them. They wouldn’t commit their whole force to a battle in open space when we’re all mounted and they’ve not a single horse. They’ll use the ruins to limit the superiority of our cavalry, set ambushes for us. This will be far from simple. Though we can at least be grateful that we left Valdin behind in Tragnè City.”

  “It’s not teh Parents I’m wor’ied ’bout,” Nellis said. His face seemed less red than usual as he squinted at the staggering shades in the distance. The night prior, Bladesorrow had lectured the party on how to fight the things. They’d listened, wide eyed and muttering as he’d described the fiends, giving an explanation similar to the one he’d given Ferrin back at the cottage what seemed an eternity ago. Though this time, Ferrin had thought sourly, Bladesorrow had been sure to emphasize that they not use shadow against them. He rubbed at his shoulder.

  “We’ll get past the shades quick enough,” Bladesorrow replied. “The goal isn’t to beat them, just to reach the city center as fast as possible.”

  Bladesorrow glanced at Ferrin as he said this. Ferrin frowned but offered no comment. He saw no point in criticizing further, particularly if Nellis and D
evan accepted the plan. After all, getting to the tower was what they needed to save Jenzara. Why jeopardize that for a handful of men he hardly knew? Bladesorrow gave him a nod that may have held appreciation, then turned to Devan.

  “And you’re certain the anti—” he stopped, obviously agitated. “The Andstaed is in the tower?”

  “Certain?” Devan laughed. “Nothing is ever certain my dear Grand Master Keeper. And being this close to Stephan’s Rift, well, my senses aren’t nearly as useful as they usually are.” He frowned up at the spire, then hurried on when he noticed Bladesorrow’s unwavering glare. “But that is where it was when I visited, and based on the dreams you’ve described that’s where it has been all this time. It makes sense, since the rift is at the top of the tower. That’s where we must go.”

  Bladesorrow said nothing for a time. He turned slightly in his saddle, giving himself a view of the Northerners gathered behind them. For a moment Ferrin thought he actually meant to reconsider his intentions, perhaps even tell the others to remain behind. But in the end he only turned back to Devan, gave the Angel a last hard look, then murmured a few words to Nellis. The dwarf immediately began rumbling orders in his haphazard Northern accent. The Keepers jumped into action, moving their mounts into the pre-ordained groups, surrounding the four of them with a wedge of bodies, ready to slice through the shades and Parents who stood in their way.

  As this went on, Ferrin adjusted his sword belt and tried to gulp down a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Jenzara needs us, he thought over and over, trying to calm the buzzing in his stomach. He absently twisted the strange willoak ring that Devan had given him. Many times he’d dreamed of leaving the mundane training grounds of Ral Mok and fighting in “real” battles. But virtually every fight he’d been in since leaving the town had ended poorly. Seeking some small comfort, he fingered his father’s necklace. He still thought of it as such, regardless of what the Angel had told him. But its usually gentle vibrations now seemed to roil with uncertainty, sending his heart beating all the faster.

  Nellis rumbled an order, unintelligible through his accent.

  Then they were off, flying towards the mass of shades and line of Parents beyond that blocked the way into Ral Falar proper. Wild abandon coursed through Ferrin’s veins and the power of the earth called to him as the panthers thundered across the rocky expanse that separated them from the enemy.

  As they neared the meandering shades, he reached into a saddle bag and came out with a soil-covered stone that fit in his closed fist. The song of its energy coursed up his arm, suffusing his spirit. He opened his reservoir further, calling to the power of the ground about him, ushering it into the stone. The stone grew warm, then burning, seeming to swell in his hand, as Devan had shown him back in the courtyard. Ignoring the pain, he urged even more power into it, then cocked his arm back and launched the rock towards the shades as if it were a spear.

  As the stone arced through the air it grew in size. When it reached its apex it seemed to hang in the air for a moment, now the size of a small wagon. Then it plummeted, gaining speed as it dropped like, well a rock, towards the spawn of the Elsewhere. The shades didn’t even attempt to move as it barreled into them. The now-boulder crushed one on impact and sent several others flying into the air, decayed limbs snapping. Then the mass began rolling, cutting an alley through the remaining shades. Their panthers stormed through. Behind the monsters, several Parents dove from the boulder’s path of destruction. One wasn’t quick enough and was crushed as the rock plowed over him. The Parents’ line began to unravel in disarray. Several had the courage to hold and launch hexes back at them, but they all bounced harmlessly off elemental shields channeled by Nellis and Bladesorrow.

  And then they were upon them.

  The formation had its intended effect, parting the disorganized Parents in two. Several were trampled by the unrelenting advance of panthers. Most broke ranks and sprinted towards the relative protection of the ruins.

  They thundered onward as if the Parents hadn’t even been there. A smattering of shades slipped into their path, lurching towards them in their hauntingly angular fashion, elbows and necks bent in gruesome directions. This slowed their advance, but the shades were now in range of most of the Keepers’ elemental abilities and the light attuned amongst them began raining balls of white-hot energy down upon the dark creatures. They evaded more ably than their plodding nature would suggest—slipping out of the way before hexes hit home.

  But even with their uncanny evasions many fell before their company even reached the shades, turning to ash or vaporizing completely as Keepers’ hexes found their marks. Now that he’d grasped his true nature, Ferrin was even able to call down a light hex of his own. He grinned as the channel found its mark, reducing a shade to dust, its shadow heart clattering to the ground.

  That small triumph was fleeting, though, as several shades slipped into their midst and were upon a pair of Keepers before they could react. A panther went down, a shadow heart piercing its hindquarters. The animal’s leg turned black as it tumbled to the ground, sending the Keeper upon its back flying. Several shades set upon him before he could rise, his anguished cries echoing across the plain. Another Keeper took a shard to the thigh. Black bile began to spew from his mouth as he toppled from his mount, trampled beneath the still-galloping panthers behind him.

  Another shade, shard protruding from its gaping mouth, appeared at the center of their formation, nearly dismounting Nellis. The High Emissary slapped the creature’s outstretched arm away with his staff at the last moment. The creature stumbled away and was soon trampled. But the dwarf’s panther reared, nearly unseating the dwarf, and another shade slipped in amongst them, grabbing for Nellis’s robes, trying to pull him under the stamping paws of the other riders.

  Steel sang. Destrier Leaps the Ravine. The shade’s head tumbled from its shoulders and its body was sucked into the vortex of charging felines. Bladesorrow placed a steadying hand on Nellis’s shoulder, the sword in his other hand dripping with ichor. The dwarf gave him a toothy grin.

  And just like that, they were beyond the shades and slowing as the ruins of Ral Falar began to tower up around them. Ferrin was breathing hard, though he’d barely done anything since conjuring up that boulder. Time had seemed to slow in the midst of the fighting, but when he looked through the haze at the still-rising sun, he realized the whole engagement couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes.

  Bladesorrow called out, signaling for the party to slow to a canter. They had to pull in their ranks to fit through the city avenue. All was still. Deteriorating buildings loomed like giant tombstones. A stiff breeze blew through them, carrying with it laments of a time that was both long past and yet had never been. The silence was deafening. Ferrin rubbed at his ears, trying to relieve the sensation. It was as if water clogged his hearing, the structures about him absorbing all sound.

  They carried on down the highway for some minutes, no one daring to speak and shatter the silence that lay about them like a fetid blanket. More than once, Ferrin caught a Keeper Pathing him or herself, murmuring a muted prayer. Somehow, the blue tabards they wore didn’t look right against their dilapidated surroundings, so bright and hopeful amongst a sea of despairing buildings. Even the panthers seemed uneasy, low growls sounding at the backs of their throats, golden eyes darting about.

  Finally they turned a corner and before them rose the central tower. Ferrin craned his neck up to behold it. Compared to most of the other structures about them, the tower seemed almost new, hardly touched by the decay that had descended upon the rest of Ral Falar. Yet looking at it sent a pounding through his temples. He was able to see its peak, yet it also seemed fictitiously tall, as if reality shied away from it like a child from a dark room. The building was spotted with windows all along its height, sticking out like pocks on an otherwise pristine complexion. The very top of the spire was encircled by a balcony that undoubtedly would have afforded a grand view for leagues in every
direction, had there been anything besides the desolation of Ral Falar worth viewing.

  The company halted at a barked command from Nellis. The panthers issued low rumbles and pawed at the ground, tails slicing the air. Their riders seemed no less comfortable.

  “T’was far too easy,” the dwarf muttered as he slung his staff back over his shoulder. “Can ye sense anything, Aldur Devan?”

  Devan looked about, then shook his head. “The rift clouds my senses. I can feel the presence of some others, and a much larger disturbance that must be the Andstaed, but I can pinpoint nothing.”

  “I share Nellis’s ill ease,” Bladesorrow said. “This may very well be a trap. But we must also acknowledge the possibility that we caught them unprepared. Even if Valdin has determined where we went, it’s doubtful he could have gotten word to them so soon.”

  Bladesorrow sheathed his blade and dismounted. “And sitting around wringing our hands won’t do. Even if this is an ambush, it’s allowed us to achieve our first objective. We move forward with the plan. The three of us climb the tower. Nellis will remain below with our forces and defend us from whatever threats remain.”

  Nellis nodded. “Go. Do what ye must. We’ll be yer shield. Protect ye, or die tryin’.”

  The dwarf’s words sent a shiver down Ferrin’s spine and he chose that moment to dismount, hiding his ill ease.

  “Try not to do the latter,” Devan said dryly as he slid from his own panther’s back.

  The dwarf gave the Angel a grim smile, grasped hands with Bladesorrow, then turned his panther about, shouting orders. Soon, small groups were fanning out about the circumference of the tower. Elemental shimmers surrounded many of them.

  Devan approached the entrance to the tower, then turned back. For once, he bore a serious expression, nodding at Bladesorrow.