by James Dale
With their escort now assembled, the two Val'anna stallions were anxious to stretch their legs in the cold morning air, but their riders restrained them until they were about a mile away from the sleeping villagers. Once they were well out of hearing distance and the sky had brightened, Jack and Tarsus allowed the spirited horses to break into a trot. After they'd warmed up a bit, Eaudreuil gradually increased his pace until he and Gilasha were thundering across the countryside, their ears laid back and their riders leaning forward in the saddle, watching the leagues flow swiftly by.
Braedan could feel the raw, unrestrained power, the elemental vitality of the Val'anna surging through its body as he ran, could actually feel it growing with every stride. Yet Eaudreuil's gait was so smooth, so fluid and graceful, his hooves did not even seem to strike the ground. It was as if the forces of nature no longer could hold them. Both horse and rider had somehow magically broken free from the chains of gravity and were floating on air.
A serene calm filled Braedan and caught in this trancelike state, he and Eaudreuil road on for hours, deaf and blind to the world around them as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky and the morning grew into day. Much later, as if waking from a dream, Jack gradually became aware he and Eaudreuil were alone, that they had left Tarsus, Gilasha and their Amarian escort far behind. Yet even then he was strangely reluctant to reign back the Val'anna. When he turned and looked over his shoulder and saw only rolling, empty plains, he came fully out of his fog and slowed the galloping stallion to a leisurely trot.
"Where are they?" he asked.
Eaudreuil stopped and cocked his massive head as if listening for the absent riders. "Gilasha is not far," he replied. "The other ponies I can barely sense. Shall we wait for them?"
"It would only be polite," Jack replied.
"As you wish," the stallion neighed, then shook sweat from his mane, lowered his head, and began to pull at the thick grass of the plains.
True to the Val'anna's word, Tarsus and Gilasha soon came galloping over the horizon. He waved to them as they grew closer and soon, they thundered to halt at his side.
"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to stop. Were you trying to lose me?" Tarsus inquired with a grin.
"Sorry," Jack shrugged. He reached back into his saddle bag and retrieved a water skin. After he'd taken several swallows, he handed it across to the Amarian. "I don't what came over me." Tarsus accepted this welcomed offering of penance and wasted no time in taking a long drink himself.
"I know what you mean. I don't believe I will ever grow accustomed to how fast these Val'anna can run," he said, handing back the empty skin. "I think we will reach Tanaevar well before sundown."
“Have you seen Uuran lately?” Braedan asked.
“You left them in your dust an hour ago,” Tarsus replied. “They are big boys. They’ll catch up eventually.”
"Sundown you say?" asked Jack, looking up at the sun.
"Three to four hours should get us there," the Amarian nodded.
"And how far is Tanaevar from...from…"
“Far enough that you shouldn’t worry about it,” Tarsus interrupted. “Jack, I know what Tereil said earlier is true enough. Graith has sent his lackies to kill you even from his sleep. But you’re forgetting something.”
“And what might that be?” Braedan asked.
“You survived,” Tarsus shrugged. “You survived nightmares meant to drive you insane. You survived when the nightmare came for you in the waking world. You killed Urioch in the Ailsantain. Took off the top of his head like cracking open a melon. Since then you have slain two sorcerers of the Sa’tan. You’ve survived everything Graith has thrown at you, and you don’t even have Yhswyndyr yet. If the dark King wants you dead, he’s going to have to rise from his sleep and do it himself.”
“Jeez…don’t even joke about that,” Jack sighed.
“I’m just saying, you are stronger than you know, Jack Bra’Adan,” the Amarian replied.
“I don’t know what I would do without you, my friend,” Braedan replied. “If not for you and Dorad, well…It’s been…helpful having you around. That said, let’s slow down until Uuran catches up to us. I mean, we don’t want to appear rude.”
“We’ll wait then,” Tarsus nodded. “If grandfather finds out I left his escort, future King of Amar or not, he’d still likely try and box my ears. That wouldn’t be a good start to my rebuilding the Galekindar.”
“I don’t imagine it would,” Jack grinned.
Chapter Twenty-four
Return of the Galekindar
They road on at a leisurely pace for the next hour, with Eaudreuil and Gilasha content now since they’d been given a chance to stretch their legs. The sun had begun to slip noticeably towards the horizon, setting the scattered clouds in the western sky behind them afire with purple and orange flames, when Braedan and Tarsus were joined by Uuran and the other Amarians. It was not long after their escort had rejoined them, the group crested one of the last rolling hills on the plains and suddenly found the ruins of Tanaevar lying stretched out before them.
Jack wasn't sure in what condition he expected to find the ancient Amarian city, imagining perhaps, it would be something like the majestic Aztec and Mayan ruins of Mexico and Central America. Ruins only because they had been mysteriously abandoned by their inhabitants and left to the elements. It was painfully clear to his trained eyes however, Tanaevar had not experienced such a peaceful, lingering demise. It had been totally and utterly destroyed by a merciless and savage invader.
Although it had been leveled over eight hundred years ago, Braedan was still able to discern the distinct remains of Tanaevar's outline, a testament to the skill and craftsmanship of the city's builders. Laid out in a precise grid pattern, the ruins covered an area approximately ten or twelve square miles, extending from either side of a main thoroughfare, running roughly east to west through the length of the city. Branching off from this primary avenue was a rigid north-south, east-west system of secondary streets, forming a latticework of orderly blocks about one hundred yards square. Encircling the city as far as the eye could see was what looked to be the remains of a once forbidding rampart of earthe and stone, now leveled almost to the ground and breached in many places.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Tarsus asked quietly, interrupting Braedan's survey. "The citizens of Tanaevar spent a year working day and night to build that wall. It took the demon Urioch and Graith's army of grim'Hiru and Forhein barbarians less than a week to break through and storm the palace."
Braedan was silent, trying to imagine the sheer numbers it must have required to level such a city using only primitive weapons. It staggered the imagination. During the war in Afghanistan, his Special Forces Team had once acted as forward observers for an airstrike against a Taliban strong-hold. Jack and his men had directed sortie after sortie of F16s as they pounded the mountain village. When the deafening assault had finally come to an end, there was more left of that mud and stone village than there was of Tanaevar. Braedan could only guess at the malicious force that had descended on Amar.
"On the fifth day of the siege," Tarsus continued in a reverent tone, "When it was clear the city was about to be overrun, the Galekindar road out the gates of the palace into the teeth of Graith's army. It was a glorious display of honor and courage by the bravest, most honorable knights Amar had ever produced. They were slaughtered to the last man within minutes."
"I know," Jack whispered. He'd heard the tale repeated many times over the last few days. The Sons of the Storm's exploits had been the favorite topic of conversation during the last two days as the Amarian villagers traveled to Tanaevar to select their successors and the fall of the Galekindar, though surely the most painful memory because it recounted their only defeat, was the most recited tale of them all.
"Come, I'll show you where Tars Aernin died," Tarsus said quietly, then slowly began to make his way down to the ruins.
Braedan followed his friend down the hil
l, through a huge breach in the remains of the desperate, ultimately futile barrier wall, and onto the ancient highway. The Amarian did not seem to be in much of a hurry to reach the spot where the last crowned king of Amar had fallen. He zig-zagged through the ruins, pointing out different sections of the city, saying this is where the Ministry of Commerce once stood, or there is where the wisest men of Amar once studied the movements of the stars from a tower taller than any standing today in the west.
When they finally stopped just before sunset in the heart of Tanaevar, the group had circled half the city and were now facing west towards a prominent hill which bisected the main avenue and dominated the surrounding devastation. On this hill, Tarsus led Braedan to the foot of a tremendous archway hewn from a single block of granite. It was easily the largest individually carved stone he had ever seen, at least fifty feet in width and almost half as tall. Though the rock was weathered by many centuries, there were still terrible gouges and scars visible in many places, a grim reminder of the powerful forces which had been hurled against it. But not even the demon Urioch or the power of the dark King's armies had been strong enough to throw down this monolithic gate.
There was a passageway cut through the heart of the immense stone, wide enough for three horsemen to ride through abreast, and deeply chiseled into the lintel above the opening were letters in a script Braedan did not recognize. Beyond the stone, framed by the doorway and bathed in the glow of the setting sun, was a jumbled heap of stones that looked as if they had been tossed to the ground by some great natural catastrophe.
"The palace?" Jack asked, turning to the Amarian.
Tarsus nodded.
"The writing over the gate?" he asked. "What does it say?"
"The writing is ancient Amarian. It does not translate easily into the common tongue of the Whesguard," the Amarian answered sadly. "Roughly it says, 'Be as strong as the earthe that bore you, as true as the hearts of those you enclose. May you never fall or let any pass through you uninvited.' It was a blessing spoken by the High Lord Duncan Huelet at the dedication of the new palace about three hundred years before Ljmarn was born. Aralon was a peaceful land at the time.”
“It's a shame he didn't think to bless the walls surrounding the gate as well," Uuran remarked bitterly, as he and the rest of the Amarian’s rejoined them.
“A shame indeed,” Tarsus nodded.
"This is where Tars Aernin died?" asked Jack.
"Yes," the Amarian replied somberly. "A day and a night he fought in front of this gate, until the demon Urioch slew him with a single blow of his sword. When Ljmarn finally sent an army here after the defeat of the dark King almost a year later, they found Tanaevar lifeless, hardly one stone left upon another."
Tarsus drew a deep breath, then shuddered as if he were trying to shake away the gloom. "I had forgotten how depressing this place could be."
"We can go back out to the plains and wait for Tereil if you want?" Jack said sympathetically.
"Nonsense," the Amarian replied. "You are the first High King to visit Tanaevar in eight hundred years. Tars Aernin would reach down from Heaven and throttle me where we stand if I didn't insist you rest here tonight in the Hall of the Kings of Amar. Even such as they are. Please accept my humble invitation. I can't promise you silk sheets and perfumed chamber maids to bring you warm milk before you retire, but perhaps we may still find a spot of soft grass where you can sleep comfortably."
"Well..." Jack said, scratching his bearded chin and feigning indecision. "It's true I'm accustomed to more regal accommodations, but since you were the first to ask and we've already come so far, I guess accept. Lead on your majesty."
“Lord Bra'Adan,” Uuran said, “While Tarsus finds you a soft patch of ground, I’ll take the lads and do a circuit of the area. Raeynor thought he saw some…tracks as we rode in that might be worth investigating.”
“Tracks? What sort of tracks?” Braedan asked.
“That’s what we are going to investigate,” Uuran shrugged.
“We’ll light a fire so you don’t get lost out in the wild,” Tarsus grinned.
“When I need a fire to find you Tarsus Aernin, I will gladly rub your feet and cook your dinner,” Uuran laughed.
Tarsus laughed in return, slapping Uuran on the shoulder. “That man will make a fine Galekindar captain,” he remarked as the Amarians road off to the east. “Come on, let’s find you a nice soft patch, my Lord.”
Braedan followed Tarsus through the destroyed gate and into rubble that was once the palatial estate of the Royal House of Aernin. They dismounted somewhere close to the center of the ruin, unsaddled the Val'anna stallions and set them loose to pick at the tufts of grass that had long ago overgrown the area where polished marble floors once stood.
Braedan searched the area for sticks and dead brush to fuel a campfire while Tarsus set about erecting a simple lean-to by draping an extra skin he'd acquired the night before across a length of rope he tied between two convenient slabs of stone. The shelter was small but it would keep the frost off them and the confined space would serve to generate body heat to ward against the chill of the night air.
Tarsus scooped out a small pit beneath the shelter and kindled their campfire, then both men sat down to a cold meal of smoked beef and water. After Braedan had finished, he walked several paces away from the camp and relieved himself. When he turned around to start back, he was surprised to see just how much light their small fire created on the hilltop. In this empty, desolate place it might as well have been a bonfire.
"If Uuran can’t find us with that fire," he remarked upon returning, "you might need to think about finding another captain.
"My old bones were aching," Tarsus shrugged. "It’s gonna be a cold one tonight."
"Your old bones?" Jack grinned. "Maybe you should have stayed behind at the village with the women to take care of the goats?"
"Perhaps I should have at that," the Amarian laughed quietly, throwing more kindling on the fire. "Sleep well m'Lord."
"I think I’ll stay up for a bit," Jack replied, wrapping himself in his heavy bearskin.
“Suit yourself,” Tarsus yawned, turning his back to the fire.
Braedan wrapped himself in his cloak and watched the fire. It was not long until his lids grew heavy with sleep and he drifted off. He was awakened sometime later by a muffled rumbling and sat up suddenly. It was dark as pitch. The campfire had burned low and only a few glowing embers remained. There was a rustling in the dark and a large, black shape suddenly loomed over him.
"Something is wrong," the silhouette said quietly.
"What?" Jack asked, springing to his feet and throwing of his blanket.
"Uuran and the lads haven’t returned yet," Tarsus answered. “Worse, Eaudreuil and Gilasha are gone.”
"Gone?" asked Jack, instantly filled with dread. “What do you mean gone?”
"They'd been skittish for about an hour and now they've bolted,” Tarsus explained.
Braedan stood and shook of the last vesitiges of sleep. The first thing he noticed was the heaviness of the air and the cloudy, starless sky. Far to the east there was a flash of lightning and several seconds later the low, distant rumble of thunder. "There's a storm coming."
"It would take more than a storm to frighten Val'anna," the Amarian observed warily. "No. It's something else."
"What then?"
"I don't know," Tarsus muttered. “But something bad enough to keep Uuran away from a warm fire on a cold night.”
All seemed quiet and still, but Braedan suddenly felt a cold dread creeping into his heart. He stepped back into their shelter and retrieved his sword. "Do you think we should go look for them?" he asked, buckling the sword around his waist.
"Quiet," Tarsus whispered. "I hear something." Both men quickly drew their blades and waited. Soon Braedan heard it as well. It was the rumbling of hooves. A few seconds later, three large shapes appeared in the dark. It was Eaudreuil and Gilasha and…Uuran tumbled from the saddle of
his horse as the missing stallions thundered to a halt it front of them.
"They are coming!" Eaudreuil snorted excitedly.
"Who is coming?" Braedan demanded, rushing to Uuran’s side. The Amarian moaned weakly as Jack rolled him onto his side, revealing two arrows embedded in his back.
Tarsus broke off one of the arrows and examined it’s fletching in the pale moonlight. “grim'Hiru!” he snarled, tossing it aside. “Uuran! What happened man?”
The Amarian tried to speak, then coughed up a dark stream of blood. Uuran Kaelsonn was dead. The silence of the night was suddenly shattered when a single piercing howl rang out. It was answered quickly by a chorus coming from all directions.
"Wolves!" Tarsus cried, scanning the dark with wary eyes.
"Wolves?" Braedan asked, at the same time trying to reach out with his senses and detect them, but he could feel nothing yet.
"There are wolves," Eaudreuil whined. "But they are not alone. Something travels with them. I have never smelled its kind before. They are not human but they reek like unclean two-legs and carry weapons."
"What's he saying?" Tarsus asked.
"There's something traveling with the wolves," Jack replied. "He doesn't know what they are but they smell and they are armed."
"In the company of wolves?"
"Yes."
"Definitely grim'Hiru," the Amarian growled. Sheathing his sword, he walked over quickly to the shelter to and began gathering up their saddles.
Braedan was momentarily stunned by this announcement. Although he'd heard tales about them from Alnordel and others, he had never actually considered the possibility they were more than just legends, mythical boogeymen from Aralon's ancient past. He couldn't really be expected to believe a race of humans called Hiru had been transformed by a curse into hideous, subhuman monsters because they'd followed Graith and his Bloodstone. Could he?
"They are surrounding the hill!" Eaudreuil neighed impatiently.
