Soldiers of Legend

by Stephen L. Nowland

  Criosa stepped forward and stood before the huge man without fear. Morik towered over the diminutive young woman, and the curious expression upon his features indicated that he hadn’t expected her to be the answer he was looking for. Behind him, seated upon the fine cushions, was an older Akoran man with a white beard and roughly-cropped hair. His dark eyes watched the scene before him with great interest, as if taking his measure of the two.

  “Greetings Morik, I am Princess Criosa Roebec, daughter of Seamus Roebec, King of Aielund and ruler of the north.” To his astonishment, she offered her hand. Hesitantly, he reached out and clasped it, pumping his wrist briefly as if he was holding onto an eel.

  “It is strange that a woman was sent to speak with us. I respect that you are the daughter of a powerful man, and he shows great faith to entrust you with this task.”

  “It wasn’t his decision, believe me,” Criosa smiled ruefully. “I am here in an official capacity to discuss matters of great importance to both our peoples, but I regret to say that I am the bearer of grim tidings. I had the recent pleasure of meeting your daughter, Valennia, who was recently working alongside some of my companions. It is with great sorrow that I must inform you of her death, some five weeks ago.”

  Morik’s stoic visage crumbled upon hearing this information, and a look of haunting emptiness crossed his rugged face. Aiden felt sorry for the man, for Valennia had been a valiant companion and her death had weighed heavily upon them all for weeks after the events in Fairloch.

  “How did she perish?” Morik asked in a hoarse voice. Criosa explained the nature of the enemies they had fought, and of Valennia’s courage in facing them. She left out the part where her anger had led to her demise at the hands of the death priest, mentioning only that she had been bested by dark powers that had almost destroyed them all. This seemed to offer some comfort to the Akoran chief, who managed to get hold of his emotions and return to some semblance of his stoic façade.

  “I thank you for bringing me this information. It is a terrible thing to have wronged someone and missed the chance to make things right. With her death, I can never undo what was done, and must now live with that feeling for the rest of my days.”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone,” Nellise remarked with a poignant glace at Pacian. He mirrored Morik’s despair for a brief instant before he bottled up feelings about his father’s recent death once more.

  “Perhaps you should have thought of that before banishing her from your lands,” Sayana suggested coldly. Morik stiffened at her retort, and Criosa gave her a look that seemed to suggest the sorceress should have remained silent.

  “I expect a naïve remark like that from an outlander woman, not from one who understands our ways,” he rumbled, visibly attempting to keep things civil, a sentiment Criosa shared, even if Sayana had to bite down on her lip to remain silent.

  “We all miss the presence of your daughter,” she interjected, “yet we are better for having known her. We can celebrate her memory later. I must speak of my reasons for being here. A few months ago, our two peoples were on the verge of conflict. I am glad to see you have maintained control over your people, but I must know if you are willing to provide us with aid.”

  “It has not been easy,” Morik replied, gesturing to the cushions and setting himself down. Criosa complied, alighting on a cushion just across from the chief. Robert, assuming he wasn’t needed here, gestured to the door and took out a cigar. Aiden nodded his understanding, and noticed two of the big Akoran warriors followed him outside.

  “Many of my people wish for conflict, that we might take back lands we have lost to Aielund in the past,” Morik went on. “This was the reason I was deposed as chief, for I refused to consider war. Through your intervention,” — he looked at Aiden directly as he spoke — “Erag and his closest supporters were vanquished, allowing me to solidify my hold as chief. But many other supporters of Erag remain, and I have fought off two challenges in single combat in the last two weeks alone.”

  “That doesn’t sound at all promising,” Criosa murmured thoughtfully while Nellise shook her head at the brutal politics of the Akorans.

  “My repeated victories have earned me great respect, even from my enemies,” Morik declared proudly. “I have even swayed many members of the tribal council to my way of thinking, something that was made easier with the deposing of Tald Black-Tiger, a man who wielded immense sway over the council.” Aiden flinched at the memory of facing Tald’s might, and silently wished he too could be gone from Akoran lands as soon as possible.

  “Yet you remain here in a war camp,” Sayana observed, unable to stay silent, in the face of the people who had cast her out when she was a child. “Your people are hungry. Why do you not return to the hunting grounds further south?”

  “You are very observant,” Morik noted in a flat voice. “Those in this camp are loyal to me, while the city of Akoramark remains devoted to the tribal council. Although I have earned their respect, we still differ on many issues. We must keep our two factions separate while I mediate our position, or face the prospect of a bloody war amongst our people. I will not let that happen.”

  “The situation here is far less amenable than I had hoped,” Criosa sighed. “Alright, I shall speak plainly and let you decide if you are in a position to assist. Just over a century ago, our two peoples formed an alliance to stave off an invasion from the monster known as the Ironlord. Your chief, Reikthor, led an army of your warriors against this foe and won the day, even though it cost him his life.”

  “A life lost defeating a mighty foe is the finest way to die,” Morik intoned proudly. “Reikthor was a hero to our people even before that battle, but since then he has risen to become a legend.”

  “Our enemy has returned, Morik,” Criosa said to him, leaning in closer to gaze directly into his eyes. “We had thought it defeated, but the Ironlord walks the earth once more. Will you honour the memory of Reikthor, and stand with us against this implacable foe?”

  “It lives?” Morik bellowed, thunderstruck at this news. He turned to stare incredulously at the grey-bearded man, who was similarly taken aback at this revelation.

  “Yes, and even now it gathers its forces for a strike against Fort Highmarch, as it did a century ago,” Criosa pressed. “We are not the strength we once were, Morik — can you aid us?”

  “Were Akora united, it might be possible,” Morik replied after some consideration. “But we are divided, and those who recognise my rule depend upon my hunters to provide for them. There is also the matter of our century of conflict to consider. Many tribes have men and women who have felt Aielund’s betrayals more keenly than the rest. They will be reluctant to shed blood on your behalf.”

  “Besides, if the Ironlord destroys Aielund, you and your people could have your old lands back,” Pacian drawled. “All you’d have to do is sit back and watch, then swoop in afterwards.”

  “We are not cowards,” Morik growled menacingly. “Nor do we let others fight our battles for us. Legend tells us the Iron Destroyer leaves nothing standing in its wake, but it also has never struck at the Akora. Yes, there is much bad blood between Aielund and Akora, and I cannot come to your aid because I must resolve our own problems first.”

  “I’m disappointed to hear this, but I understand your position,” Criosa sighed. “Should we survive the coming crisis, I want to find better ways of communicating with your people, and perhaps even make amends for our past affronts.”

  “Standing aside for this battle will not work in your favour,” Sayana remarked caustically, drawing a curious look from Morik. He turned and spoke a few words in his native tongue to his assistant, who chuckled to himself. “You mock me?” Sayana accused, clearly very sensitive to their actions.

  “I was simply remarking that your manner reminds me of somebody I used to know,” Morik replied evenly. I am pleased that you have returned to Akora, Sayana Arai. Perhaps we can take some steps to remedy the rift between you and your peo
ple.”

  “I don’t think you’re suddenly going to become accepting of sorcery, especially in a woman,” she replied defiantly. Although Aiden was listening, he was distracted by the astonished look on the older Akoran man’s face.

  “Sayana… is it really you?” he breathed in a heavy accent as Morik looked on with a knowing smile. The sorceress stared back at him and then turned as white as a ghost.

  “Forgive me, I have been rude,” Morik said smoothly. “This is my most trusted advisor and shaman, Kerik White-Wolf, soul of Akora, beloved of Sarissa and father of Sayana.” The expression on Sayana’s face could not be expressed in words, though Aiden was moderately concerned she might dislocate her jaw if she gaped any harder at the old man, who evidently shared her astonishment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Watching Sayana and Kerik talk together over food was an awkward experience for everyone, filled with awkward pauses and subdued conversation. The freshly roasted venison that had been provided became something of a distraction to the two Akorans, who toyed with the food in an attempt to give them time to think of things to say.

  Despite having lived only a few days journey from Akora for most of his life, Aiden knew little about their daily practices and rituals. Of course, having lost a good portion of his childhood memories, it was entirely possible he once knew of such things, but the experiences had been discarded when Salinder saved his life. He sometimes wondered what had been put in its place.

  Even as they sat on the comfortable cushions enjoying their food, Criosa continued to press Morik for aid. The chief, clearly unused to speaking with a woman of equal authority, was choosing his words carefully. Despite this, the chief of the Akora was adamant about his position — they could not help others before sorting out their internal issues. Robert, who had returned in time for the meal, wasn’t concerned.

  “From what I could see,” he said quietly, “Morik couldn’t send more than a few dozen men to help us anyway. In spite of appearances, most of their warriors are further south. This camp is primarily comprised of women and older men. But he’s right — those to the south must have a world of respect for the chief, because I don’t see what else is stopping them from rolling right over this quaint little picnic.”

  “He certainly seems quite worldly,” Nellise added in little more than a whisper. “Judging by what he and the princess are speaking of, I must assume he’s done some travelling in his youth.”

  “You sound surprised,” Robert remarked dryly. “Akora is close to many places that store knowledge, such as Culloch in the east, or Trinity on the other side of the mountains. Actually, what I find surprising is that more of these people don’t take advantage of this. It’s almost as though they revel in ignorance.”

  “There is still a great deal of this culture that offends me,” Nellise retorted. “Their treatment of women is little short of institutionalised slavery.”

  “I never said they were perfect,” Robert suggested as he sank his teeth into the last slice of meat. “They’re much like any other, in that they have their good and bad people. Morik’s one of the good ones, and I’d wager that most of the people in this camp are like him.”

  “That reminds me, there’s something I’d like to go and investigate,” Aiden remarked. “It seems the talks will be continuing for a while, so I doubt I’ll be missed.”

  “What are you going to look at?” Pacian whispered.

  “The cave,” Aiden replied. “My memory of our last visit here is a little blurry and I want to take a closer look at the walls. I think they might be the same kind as the hole I fell into years ago. If so, it means the entire Acadian city is buried under the Cairnwood.”

  “I’ll come along,” Pacian offered as he wiped the grease from his hands.

  “Count me in,” Robert added, yet when they looked to Nellise, it was clear what her answer would be.

  “I can’t go back there,” she whispered in a haunted voice. “To be honest, this entire visit is becoming a little too much for me. I think I’ll go for a stroll and get some fresh air.” Clearly, Aiden had underestimated the effect their return to Akora was having on her. It wasn’t lost on Pacian either, who suddenly experienced a change of heart.

  “You know, that cave thing actually sounds pretty boring,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll saunter around with Nel and see the sights.” Despite his flippant attitude, he wound his hand into hers and gripped it tightly, bringing her some measure of comfort.

  “I guess it’s just you and me, kid,” Robert grunted.

  “Oh, fun,” Aiden drawled, giving the others a perfunctory wave as he stepped through the tent flap into the crisp mountain air. The warriors stationed outside gave Robert a friendly nod and let them pass without question.

  “Making new friends?” Aiden asked of the mercenary after they were out of earshot.

  “I have a lot of respect for the men in this place,” Robert replied easily. “I wouldn’t say that around Nel or Sy, of course. They’re men of their word, and some of the toughest fighters I’ve ever fought, or fought alongside. It’d be nice to have a few of them with us at Highmarch when the time comes, though as I said, a few dozen probably won’t make a difference.”

  “Personally, I want all the help we can get,” Aiden remarked as they continued in the direction of the cave. Three warriors were stationed at the entrance and they also recognized Robert, permitting the two men to enter without comment.

  “What exactly did you say to these people?” Aiden asked curiously, looking back at the relaxed guards.

  “The truth,” Robert replied simply. “I’m a warrior from the south, come to take my measure of the legendary Akorans on behalf of my employer. They seemed to enjoy that turn of phrase. We spoke a little about some battles we’d fought, compared notes, that sort of thing.”

  They continued through the tunnels until they came to an open area, lined with haunches of meat hanging from the ceiling. The frigid conditions made it an ideal place to store food, though Aiden recalled it had a different use a few months ago.

  “This is where Colt and Nellise were held, and over twenty of our people slaugtered,” Aiden muttered grimly, noting the barred doors had been removed. “Morik was held here too, in that space over there. Hopefully, he’ll remember his time in captivity and stay focused on improving the lives of his people.”

  “Or kill anyone who threatens to take his job,” Robert added. “You never know how people are going to react to this sort of experience.” Aiden nodded absently, and then walked over to the nearest wall. He scraped away at the layer of frost with his gauntlet, then balled up his fist and smashed it into the wall, shattering the ice and sending out a ringing ‘clang’ sound that echoed throughout the complex. Curious glances from the guards at the entrance were directed their way.

  “Found what you’re looking for?” Robert asked sarcastically.

  “It’s just as I thought. Whatever this metal is, it looks identical to what was used in most of Acadia,” Aiden replied quietly as he peered closer.

  “Funny, I don’t see many elves around here,” Robert commented dryly.

  “Precisely. Given the age of the place, it begs the question of what this complex was before the human tribes came along. Some kind of ancient elven bunker?”

  “They don’t strike me as the type to dig holes and live in them,” Robert grunted. “In fact, they frown on that sort of thing, in a general sense.” Aiden pondered this for a moment before drawing some interesting conclusions.

  “Either the elves were acting very much out of character, built this place, occupied it for a time and then left for some reason. Or they didn’t build it at all — which means they also didn’t build Acadia, either.”

  “I fail to see the point,” Robert grunted.

  “Well if it’s true, then they lied to us about a lot of things,” Aiden pointed out. “This makes them dubious allies at best.”

  Your supposition is correct, Salinder suddenly spoke within A
iden’s mind.

  “Sal, you’re back,” Aiden remarked in surprise. “I had thought you were gone completely.”

  I was refocusing my energies after the demands placed upon me, the sword said, sounding less energetic than it had in the past.

  “Wait, was there a problem with that weapon of yours?” Robert interrupted shrewdly.

  “I had thought I overtaxed it in the fight under Acadia,” Aiden divulged. “Apparently I was misled.”

  As I was saying, the construction method of this place is similar to the labyrinthine undercity upon which Acadia is built, yet neither place was fabricated by the elves.

  “Who, then?” Aiden asked. “That mysterious enemy they spoke of?”

  I…thought I knew this. I used to know this. Give me a minute. Aiden frowned at this odd comment, for it was not like the dragon spirit to be forgetful.

  “You’ve forgotten?” he pressed when there was no answer forthcoming. Even this comment elicited silence from the sword, confirming Aiden’s dreadful suspicion. “What else have you forgotten?”

  Was I saying something? Salinder inquired. Aiden groaned and rubbed his forehead, having concluded the spirit contained within the sword was beginning to fade.

  “What the hell is this?” Robert growled to the weapon. “The plan was to get you to the Ironlord so you could kill it. Now you can’t even carry a conversation?”

  It was not my idea to battle an army of infernals, Salinder chastised them with an intense voice. I warned you there may be consequences. Robert’s single eye snapped on to Aiden and tried to bore a hole through his head with its cold stare.

  “I underestimated the power of those demons we were facing,” Aiden tried to explain, battling feelings of guilt. “If I hadn’t drawn on Salinder’s might, we wouldn’t have survived.”

  “So, because of that bloody fight, we’ve lost our secret weapon,” Robert stated bluntly. “You’d better hope the trade was worth it, because as far as I know, the elves can’t kill the damned metal man either. That decision might have just cost us the battle before it’s even started. We’re both scrambling around to gather up allies for the fight, and you’ve practically handed it over to the Ironlord.”