The Spirit of the Realm

by Rachel L Brown

  Felix watched one of his men shoot down a messenger hawk before he entered his tent. The enemy had tried dozens of times to send for help. They even tried it at night, but Felix ordered his men to use the nigh hawks to hunt them down.

  His men had also been running up to the walls like they were going to attack on the top of every hour. Felix hoped the soldiers in the town were becoming worn out with each false attack. Having to pull on armor and drag yourself up to the battlements, only to find the enemy backtracking would exhaust any man.

  While the town’s men were distracted by the fake assaults. The Vestrals were creating a strip of dry land that went from the camp to the packed dirt around the town walls. They would use it to haul a siege tower that Felix’s men were building.

  “Your Highness I have good news: the siege tower and ladders are ready. However, there is a slight problem,” Alvar said when he entered Felix’s tent.

  Felix gestured for Elrich to put his armor on.

  “What’s the issue?” Felix asked.

  “Because of amount of magic we deployed earlier in the week and the amount of magic we are using to create the paths. I’m afraid I only have enough magic to do one of two options. Either ensure the tower won’t catch on fire right away or enchant the men’s armor.”

  Felix looked at his breastplate. None of the runes etched into the cold hunk of metal glowed. If he enchanted the men’s armor, it would not do them any good if they were trapped inside the siege tower. They would be cooked alive.

  “Enchant the tower and some ladders if you can.”

  “May the God of War watch over you,” Alvar bowed and hurried away.

  It didn’t take long for Elrich to finish putting on the armor. When he emerged from his tent, his men were lined up and the siege tower had begun its slow movements toward the town. Most of his men were lined up on the southern edge of camp. A small contingent of men had drug ladders over to the northern end and now lay waiting in the mud.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lord Rover asked when he joined Felix in inspecting the front-line men.

  “No, but outside of outright war this is the only option our people have if they want to keep their grain stores full for winter,” Felix frowned at a soldier who was wearing a hat, a pair of boots and nothing else. “Soldier, where is your armor?”

  “Gone sir; it was destroyed in the whirlwind of fire.”

  “Including your undergarments?”

  “Your Highness, whether or not I’m wearing pants it won’t make much difference,” the soldier puffed out his chest, “most of these men are mere bandits.”

  For a moment Felix considered reprimanding the man and pulling out some spare chain mail, when he noticed a rune had been painted onto the man’s arm. It was a circle with two x’s on the inside. The rune of the God of War. If that man believed the God of War would protect him in battle, then he had no right to shake that belief.

  “Then may the Gods guide your blade and may the enemies fall short.”

  By the time Felix finished inspecting the men, the sun had set in the sky. A trumpet sounded in the distance as another round of fake assaults drew out the enemy. Men pushed the siege tower in a slow lumber toward the walls. In the waning daylight he could see more Marshlanders beginning to line up on the wall. They shouted with alarm at sight of the siege tower.

  “Listen up men! You know I’m not one for speeches, so I’ll keep this one quick!” Felix shouted as the torches lit up the darkness. He had a few hundred torches set further back to give the illusion of more forces waiting in the dark. “This is your chance to right the wrongs that have been pressed upon your families for too long. It is time for the Western Marshes to face the wrath of the dead!”

  A cheer went up from the crowd in front of him. Men were clanging their swords against their shields or thumping their spears against the ground. Felix slammed his visor down and turned to face the town in front of him. The anticipation for the battle was sweeping through him and he felt his heart race with a mixture of excitement and fear.

  Just as the siege tower was about halfway to the walls, a group of men rushed forward with a ladder. A burst of flame lit up the night and the ladder caught on fire. He could hear the screams of his men while they fell to their deaths. A cheer arose from the enemy side, which Felix’s men answered with a volley of arrows.

  He ran toward the siege tower. The drawbridge slammed onto the wall with a thump that could be heard over the din of shouting. He pushed his way into the tower, ignoring the cautionary shouts of Lord Rover. The men in front of him rushed out and onto the drawbridge.

  His heart was beating so loud inside of his chest he wondered if the enemy could hear it.

  The men in front of him fell, blood pooled around them and Felix carefully stepped over them.

  Beyond the corpses were two men in full plate armor.

  “This is your final warning!” one of the men bellowed and held up his bloodied sword. It was then Felix noticed their armor was rather shiny. Unlike Felix’s, they had no dents or scratches on them. Which meant one of two things; either the men were the best swordsmen on the continent, or they were wealthy men who had been lured into fighting.

  Whatever the case, they were in his way.

  Felix knew there was no way he could beat them himself. Just beyond the men, a fireball lit up the sky behind them. It was heading straight towards the top of the siege tower.

  “This is your last chance, turn back now!” Felix yelled back, using his magic to direct the fireball towards the men. He dove onto the wooden bridge and the blue mists of Alvar’s protection magic curled around him.

  “Giving up already?”

  The two men began to advance toward him.

  “You are a nothing but a cowar-”

  The man’s words were cut off by a scream. The fireball slammed into their backs, cutting through their enchantments like butter. Felix dropped his head, letting the fire sweep over him. The magic sputtered around him, Alvar’s magic was beginning to fade.

  He took a breath and let his magic intertwine with the wood. It wasn’t enough to bring it to full power, but it might give his men enough time to make it off the siege tower.

  When he raised his head, the two men were nothing but smoking piles of bone and metal. He jumped to his feet and kicked their remains off the bridge.

  “Your Highness, beware the wall!”

  Felix ducked when an arrow flew past his head.

  “Get onto the damn wall now!” Felix screamed at his men cowering inside the siege tower. “Their armor is enchanted; aim for their throats, arms or back of the knees!”

  He shoved a few men in front of him off the drawbridge and forced his way onto the wall. Much to his relief, most of the men on this side of the wall were wearing leather jerkins. They were enchanted, but if Felix had to choose, he would fight against someone wearing enchanted leather any day. Magic faded quicker when it was bound to leather.

  “There are too many of them!” a soldier next to him cried.

  “Keep pushing!” he screamed and dove into the fray.

  He locked swords with a man whose entire face had been painted a dark red. The runes on his leather tunic lit up the darkness as Felix’s sword made contact. Back and forth they traded blows as the battle raged around them. Felix slipped when he stepped into a pool of blood. He raised his sword over his head blocking the man’s blow and rolled to the side when the man tried to kick him. The man fell, but the runes on his vest lit up and the man straightened with ease. The men around them slipped on the stones as more blood spilled.

  Felix let out a low growl, the sound was lost in the battle around them. He hopped to his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow. There was no way he was going to win this sword fight without magic. The man in front of him was stronger.

  What are they feeding these people? They should have been weak from hunger by now.

  Felix gripped his sword and directed a small amount of magic into the m
etal. The runes flared to life.

  “What the hell!” the man screamed, he stared with disbelief at Felix’s sword. “What kind of Vestral are you?”

  “I’m not a Vestral,” Felix smirked and stepped forward. The hilt of his sword began to heat up, it was almost unbearable to hold. He would have to end this soon before his gloves caught on fire. He swung his sword as the man moved to parry. Felix’s sword scraped along the leather jerkin. The runes on the man’s armor flared to life, preventing Felix from plunging his sword into him.

  He waited half a heartbeat and a directed magic into the second rune. The strength rune faded and the dispel rune flared to life.

  The man’s eyes widened when the light from his runes faded. He let out a grunt and he used his strength to push Felix towards a wall. Felix used the momentum to kick his left leg against the wall and sent them both crashing to the ground. The man managed to stand upright and then tripped over a loose stone.

  Felix’s sword clattered onto the stone pathway and shattered on impact. The magic inside of it had gotten too strong. The metal hovered inches above the ground and then formed into hundreds of tiny spikes.

  Ah, I forgot about that enchantment. Felix watched the man trip over a loose stone and fall right on top of the shattered sword. He screamed in agony as the metal pieces ripped right through his leather tunic.

  “I can’t see!” the man screamed and curled into a ball. His face was covered in metal shards and his eyes had turned a dark red. That was a wound not even the God of Healing could fix.

  “Kill me, I don’t want to die in agony,” the man whimpered. Felix picked up the man’s sword. Blood began to pool around the man’s body and his wails were becoming weaker. There was a miniscule amount of magic left in the metal, it was slowly tearing apart the man’s insides. It would be hours before he died.

  “Send the God of Death my regards,” Felix said and plunged the sword into the man’s back.

  He kicked a shard of metal and looked around. Most of his men had moved down into the town itself. The sword glinted a dull silver in the moonlight as he made his way down a flight of stairs. He had no time to etch any runes into the metal, his hand hovered over a small notch in his belt where he kept a couple rune stones hidden. He could not use his rune stones either. It was far easier to explain away a glowing sword when fighting against enchanted armor as a reflection of the light. Rune stones were not something he could explain without arousing suspicion. He was going to have to go without magic for the rest of the battle.

  It was going to be an exceptionally long night.

  WHEN THE SUN BEGAN to peek over the horizon, two men ran out of the keep, one held a white banner over his head and the other a large horn.

  “For the love of all the Gods, we surrender!” the man with the horn shouted. At the sound of three horn blasts, the enemies around them dropped their swords and knelt.

  Felix wiped his brow; the sweat was mixed with blood, not enough to cause concern. He brushed passed the kneeling men as his knights rushed over and started tying them up.

  “Lord Marshmire wishes to speak with you,” the man bearing the white standard said and Felix sheathed his sword. Felix nodded to a couple of his men as he walked, and they followed him into the keep.

  A few servants darted around the hall, lighting torches as if no battle had taken place outside. At the far end of the hall was a large chair decorated with carved eagles and roses. A man sat in the chair, dressed in plate mail covered with gold and ceramic runes. Decorative armor whose only purpose was to look pretty.

  “Lord Marshmire, may I present his Royal Highness Prince Felix of Sodervia,” a soldier shouted.

  Lord Marshmire rose from his chair, his armor hung about him. It was made for a man two times his size. He took off the great helm and handed it to a servant. With his beady eyes and sharp nose, he reminded Felix of a hawk.

  “Ah, the infamous Prince Felix, hallowed guardian of the border, has graced me with his presence by sacking my town and my castle.”

  “Lord Marshmire, your men have terrorized my peasants for far too long. They have stolen an entire storehouse worth of grain.”

  “Men? Your Highness you must have me mistaken for one of the other lords that border your kingdom. I do not understand what you are talking about!”

  Felix reached into his pouch and pulled out the letter bearing Lord Marshmire’s seal.

  “Then why did a group of bandits have a letter from you stating that anything they pillaged, you would receive half?”

  “Bah! You don’t know what it’s like. My people are starving, we’ve had too much rain and the fields have flooded. Our crops are ruined and we have no stockpiles for winter!”

  “You’d rather have my people starve in the coming winter, because you stupid bastards built a bloody town in the middle of a marsh!” Felix yelled and drew out his sword, pressing it against Lord Marshmire’s neck.

  “P-please I promise I will give you whatever you want,” Lord Marshmire whimpered as Felix pressed harder, blood trickled down his neck. Felix withdrew his sword then kicked him in the groin. He sheathed his sword and watched Lord Marshmire curl up on the floor. A pathetic useless man with no ounce of fight in him left.

  “Gods above, you are truly weak if you won’t fight for your home,” Felix said.

  “At least I have a home,” Lord Marshmire said.

  Before Felix could stab him with his sword. He heard a high pitched shriek and a woman wearing glittering jewels ran into the hall. With her sunken eyes and large nose, the jewels were the only pretty thing about her. Two small children followed her, a boy with a small bow and a girl with a wooden sword. They pointed them at Felix while the woman flung herself onto Lord Marshmire.

  “My Lord, please spare him. My husband may be a foolish man, but he doesn’t deserve death!” the woman cried while Felix dragged her off him. One of his men held her at sword point and the other grabbed the wooden weapons from the children. They started to protest, but went silent when their mother glared at them.

  “Death? Oh no, he is going to spend the rest of his days rotting in one of my cells.”

  “Take these!” she shouted and yanked off her sparkling jewelry. Felix took the necklace she offered and frowned. It wasn’t the prettiest of jewels, with its small diamonds and emeralds shaped to resemble a tree. It would fetch a good amount of gold.

  “Tell me, how does a lowborn noble in a backwater town afford such priceless jewels?” Felix dangled it in front of Lord Marshmire.

  “None of your business, gutter rat,” Lord Marshmire struggled to stand, his bulky armor causing him to sway.

  “I believe it is my business as the Prince of Sodervia.”

  “Your title means nothing. We know your father died and your Spirit chose another.”

  “My title will remain, even if I am no longer the ruler. Now tell me how you can afford such priceless jewels.”

  “Or what, you’ll throw me into a prison surrounded by water?”

  Felix smiled, and he inclined his head toward the children. Lord Marshmire’s eyes widened.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Men, please escort them to the camp.”

  “By the Gods I swear you will pay for this!” Lord Marshmire yelled and the guards dragged them away.

  Felix studied the necklace as Lady Marshmire pleaded for her children. Her screams faded as the great keep door slammed shut behind them.

  “That was a tad bit dramatic. Tell me you aren’t going to throw the children into the dungeon?”

  Felix looked up to see Lord Rover standing near him with his arms crossed.

  “Why would you think I would do such a thing? I was trying to scare him,” Felix tucked the necklace into a pouch. His bones ached as he started toward the door. “Make sure the men take everything.”

  “I will. Shall I raise your standard over the keep?”

  “No, once we are done with the place, burn it,” he paused, “and burn down the town
while you’re at it.”

  “But won-”

  “Lord Rover, I won’t hear any objections.”

  Lord Rover bowed and barked out orders to his men. As Felix left the keep, he felt a sense of relief. Four years of struggle had finally come to fruition and the borderlands would know peace.

  6

  A Broken Land

  SADE PULLED HER HOOD over her face as a gust of wind blasted her with dust. She had lost count of how many days she’d been on the roads, wandering about like a famine-struck. The dried meat she had taken from the temple stores was running out.

  She paused next to a dead tree and stared up at the sky. The air was so thick with dust, it made the sun look like a weak candle. She looked out at the barren field on the other side of the narrow path she’d been following. Dust devils danced while the winds blew across the dead crops.

  “God of Justice, can you please give me a sign so I might return home?” Sade asked. The wind answered her with another blast of dust.

  Coughing she tugged her cloak tighter around her and continued to walk. As the sun rose into midday, the dusty plains gave way to a dead forest. A creek might have been there at one point, but now it was merely a path of smooth rocks. Sade sat down next a tree, though it did little to protect her from the wind. She sighed and rested her head against the bark, listening to the weak hum of magic as the tree clung to life.

  “Oi! Get off my land!”

  Sade’s eyes flew open and she saw a man carrying a large stick barreling towards her. She scrambled to her feet when he drew closer. His eyes were bright with madness and his tattered clothes hung loose around his frame. A famine-struck, though he seemed to have succumbed to a worse fate.

  She held up her hands and backed away from the tree towards the path. “My apologies, kind sir. I did not know this was someone’s land.”

  “Go away!” the man screamed. Sade turned and ran, the man chased after her. When his footsteps ceased, she turned to see him a step away from the well-worn road. His milky eyes darted around, while he listened to something Sade could not hear. She sent out a small amount of her magic and let it swirl around the man. Despair filled her as she sensed the surrounding trees were using the natural magic within him to keep him alive.