I’d heard it before, in every battalion I’d ever fought with. Men who signed on expecting excitement and glory grew weary from days and weeks of marching and training or disillusioned by the reality of war. Some of them left before battle ever began. Others who made it through their first bloody skirmish disappeared into the night afterward, unable to stomach the sheer horror of seeing their comrades fall all around them. Such men were not born to become warriors.
And neither were these guards.
One after the other, I took out them out. It was simple. Boredom and lethargy had made them careless. I surprised Ben, the one loyal to his dark master, by sneaking up behind him, the way I did Hando, and slitting his throat. By the time the other two saw me, I’d charged the first one head-on, slashing him with my sword while he was still frozen in shock by my sudden appearance.
The last guard put up a proper fight. But he was no match for my skills.
I used techniques I’d learned from the greatest warriors who ever lived. Brave men long dead before I was born. I’d fought by their sides countless times. An unknown ally, I appeared in the heat of battle. Sent rocketing back in time, tossed into the chaos by the oracle’s magic. To learn – or die.
In truth, I don’t know whether she’d have rescued me if I was ever in danger of losing my life. It never came to that. I was strong, and I was fast, and I was smart. I’d slayed many a man the same way I slayed the final guard. Watching eyes widen in shock when I buried my blade to the hilt in his chest, then grow dull as I slowly pulled it out and life drained from his body along with the blood.
The villagers shrank away from me in fear.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I chose one of the women digging in the rubble to lead them. Unlike the others, she stared straight at me, gripping her pickaxe like a weapon. Painfully thin, middle-aged, straggly hair showing wisps of gray. But she had steel in her eyes.
“I’m a friend, sent by the queen. I’m here to help you,” I told her. “To set you all free. You know these people. They trust you. Get them out. There are no guards between here and the mouth of the cave. Go silently, one by one, single file. When you’re outside, head down the mountain as fast as you can. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
She shook her head. “There are other prisoners. I won’t go without them.”
That’s when I knew I’d chosen well. Females had a stronger will to live than males. It was something I’d learned long ago. Perhaps it was a trait built into them by the Goddess. Those with the ability to create and nurture life inside their own bodies valued it most. She’d done whatever it took to survive for weeks in captivity, and now she was willing to give up a chance at freedom if it meant leaving anyone else to suffer and die here. This woman would automatically put the strongest to work helping the weaker ones make it down the mountain. She’d cajole and praise those who needed it like a nurturing mother, bitch and nag at others if that’s what it took to galvanize them into action.
“How many?”
“Fifteen more in the other passage. All that’s left of our village.” Her voice was flat. Behind the steel, I saw pain in her eyes. “They done away with the rest of us. Kilt my eldest first, when he tried to protect one of the young girls from this monster.” She made the old sign to ward off evil then spat on the body of the guard lying at her feet.
“Your son was a man of honor.” I bowed my head in respect. “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” I said softly. “May I ask your name?”
She stared at me as if she didn’t understand the question. I’d seen that behavior before – souls so deadened by abuse they didn’t know how to react when someone showed them common courtesy. Treated them with a little dignity.
The other prisoners hadn’t spoken or moved a muscle. They watched our exchange, eyes flicking back and forth between us, wide with fear.
“Rianne.” She said it as though it was a question then threw her shoulders back and repeated it more firmly. “My name is Rianne.”
“Rianne, I am Magnus the Warrior. I have been sent with the blessing of the Goddess to do battle with the Lord of Darkness for control of our world. Can you tell me what treasure he seeks here?”
“A stone. A magical stone. They say it will give him power to move mountains and shift the very earth beneath our feet.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t found the sacred object yet.
“You must go now. I promise I will free the others. Head down the mountain path to where the forest begins then hide in the trees and wait for them to come to you.”
She glanced behind me. “Where are your fellow warriors?”
“I came alone.”
Her face fell, and she gave me a pitying look. “You cannot defeat him by yourself. He grows more powerful with each passing day. Every soul he claims gives him strength.”
“Then we must see he doesn’t claim even one more. Will you help me, Rianne? Will you lead your people to safety?”
“And leave you here to face him alone?” She glanced around, taking stock of her comrades. “Jeb can stay and fight by your side. And Tomas. Jeb is my youngest boy. Tomas, my nephew. I raised him, too. Will ye do it, lads?”
The last was directed at two young men barely able to stay on their feet. Rianne had already lost one son but she offered another without hesitation to help save innocent lives.
They glanced at each other. Passed a wordless message back and forth. “Aye, Mum,” Jeb replied. “We’d be proud to.”
They were nothing but skin and bones, half starved, trembling with exhaustion, yet they stepped up to serve. “I would be honored to have you fight by my side.” I put an arm around each of them and drew them aside, out of earshot.
“I need your skill and bravery for a much more important mission,” I said quietly. “Rianne will need your help in getting the others down the mountain safely. I’m putting their lives in your hands, lads.”
Neither of them looked strong enough to wield a sword, and I doubted they’d face anything more dangerous than a doe roaming through the forest in the moonlight, so I pulled a dagger from the sheath on the belt of one of the guards and handed it to Jeb then gave my own to Tomas. “Can I count on you?”
Holding a weapon again gave them both a jolt of energy. They stood tall. Two hands fisted, thumped chests in the traditional salute. “Yes, sir.”
I was humbled by these villagers. Reminded once again that warriors came in all shapes and sizes.
“You raised these boys well, Rianne. Now, gather your friends and go. Hurry!”
Chapter Seventeen
Magnus
I went first, to make sure the way was still clear. Jeb followed, then Rianne and the villagers, two of them supporting an old man who couldn’t walk on his own. Tomas took up the rear. I waited till they disappeared around a bend in the main passage before turning into the right-hand branch.
Here, they’d cleared the rubble away faster, possibly because the walls they uncovered bore dark smudges from the smoke of ancient torches. I imagined our ancestors wending their way by firelight through the dark passage to a secret temple deep in the heart of the mountain.
The passage twisted and turned. Suddenly, from up ahead, shouts and cheers echoed off the stone walls. They’d obviously found their target. I picked up my pace, smiling. No one would hear my approach with the din they were making. Chaos working in my favor.
The passage widened out into a larger cavern. Piles of rock littered the floor. The remaining captives had been shoved back and a group of the Dark Lord’s followers, perhaps twenty in all, were digging madly, uncovering a massive bronze door stone by stone. No one looked my way. They were all bent on their task.
I crept silently to where the prisoners huddled and, before anyone could see me, snatched a man who had moved away from the others. I clapped my hand over his mouth to stifle any cries and pulled him behind a pile of boulders. He
struggled to break my hold, but even if he hadn’t been in a starved and weakened state, he was no match for my strength.
“Sssh. Don’t be alarmed,” I whispered. “I’m not going to harm you. I’m a friend. Rianne sent me to help you escape.”
The use of a familiar name calmed him, and he relaxed enough to listen.
I explained the plan in as few words as possible then set him loose. He approached his fellow prisoners, one after another, and crouched down beside them. I didn’t need to hear what he said. The expressions on their faces told the whole story. Shock, disbelief, denial. Then a dawning hope.
I stood guard, ready to slay anyone who tried to block their escape, but it wasn’t necessary. Their captors were so intent on uncovering the door to get to the riches they’d been promised, they never noticed when the villagers disappeared one by one into the dark passage. Their excited babble covered any sounds the captives made.
The rocks got larger as they worked their way down. It took three men, groaning and straining, to roll away the last huge boulder. When they cleared the doorway, they stepped aside and bowed. A man I hadn’t seen before strode to the forefront, appearing as if by magic.
“Well done.” He put out a hand, stroked the bronze as though it was the breast of his beloved. His voice was deep and warm. “Power. Glory. Riches beyond belief.” He turned and faced the band of men. “All will soon be yours. You have served me faithfully.”
So this was our enemy. The Lord of Darkness.
From all we’d read, I expected to see someone more…menacing. Ten feet tall with horns sprouting from his head, covered in dark scales. At the very least, a forked tail and fiery red eyes.
Instead the man before me was tall and imposing. Dressed in a simple crimson robe that covered him head to toe, he carried himself with dignity. His handsome face had an agelessness to it for a being who’d lived over a thousand years, if the tales were to be believed. Smooth white skin stretched taut over prominent cheekbones with no hint of a wrinkle, piercing black eyes, full rosy red lips. Black hair slicked back like that of the aristocrats I’d seen in portraits at the Royal Museum. He seemed to be surrounded by a reddish-gold glow. A warm seductive glow that made me want to get close enough for it to surround me, too. I rubbed my eyes but the illusion remained.
A male less secure in his own manhood might have felt threatened by the pull of attraction I felt. But I recognized there was nothing sexual about it. He exuded a dark magnetism. Whether it was the source of his power or merely the effect of it was unclear.
“Come.” He gestured to the two men nearest him. “Help me.”
They beamed as though he’d bestowed a great honor on them, shoving at the huge door the way they’d shoved the boulder, until it slowly opened inward, hinges creaking.
The interior was dark as a tomb, but when he stepped across the threshold, the glow surrounding his body lit up the interior. I heard gasps from the men closest to the open door.
The light source he carried within him penetrated to the far reaches of the temple, allowing a clear view of the interior. Enormous blocks of brilliant white stone carved with strange symbols lined the walls. The floor was paved with polished slabs of marble. High overhead, more interlocking marble slabs formed a vaulted ceiling, covering the natural rock of the cave.
There was no gold. No cask piled with armfuls of dazzling jewels. The chamber was completely empty – save for one thing. An enormous diamond, easily twenty times the size of the one hanging around my neck, lay on a simple stone altar in the middle of the temple.
As the Dark Lord went toward it, the facets of the stone picked up the glow around him. Sent it careening around the room, bouncing off the walls, the floor, the ceiling. A thousand brilliant red-gold rays shot out, crisscrossing in every direction, forming an intricate pattern, like a glowing web with the Lord of Darkness the giant spider at its center.
I thought I was well hidden in the recesses of the dark cavern but one of the light rays shot straight out the doorway and hit the diamond on my chest, honing in on it like an arrow piercing my heart. The Dark Lord’s eyes followed it. He let out an unearthly howl when he saw me, and his face changed.
For an instant I glimpsed the being behind the mask he’d created. The horrid, twisted demon. I saw where the reddish glow came from. The fires of the seventh hell burned inside him, where his heart would have been.
He pointed toward me. “It is the enemy! Destroy him!”
His followers forgot about the missing gold and jewels they’d been promised. They turned as one. Advanced on me with weapons drawn, their eyes dull and lifeless, as though contact with him had burned away their souls and left only the empty shells of men.
With a sword in each hand, I ran at them. Took them all on, my battle cry ringing off the stone walls. I thrust and parried, whirled and slashed. Men crumpled to the ground at my feet, falling without a sound. His followers stepped over the lifeless bodies of their comrades and kept on coming at me.
I sliced the head off the last one with a blow so hard it rolled away and came to rest at the Dark Lord’s feet. He picked it up by the hair, tossed it aside, and smiled at me.
“Magnus Markhan, Warrior of the Seven Stars. From the Prophecy. I’ve been expecting you.”
I gave him a mocking bow. “Really? I was unaware it mentioned me.”
“Your reputation precedes you. Besides, I am not bound by the constraints of time or space. A thousand years hence, you will be a legend. With the likes of Athos of Trelum and Darius the Giant.”
I felt a stab of pride at being included in their ranks. Athos was the greatest swordsman who ever lived, Darius the master of unarmed combat. Hundreds of years after his death, students still strove to master his famous Grimarian Maneuver. I’d fought alongside both of them.
“Yes, you did,” the Dark Lord said, though I hadn’t spoken aloud. “You learned from the best. Perfected the art of killing. Tell me, do the souls of your victims still haunt you at night? The innocents you slaughtered in the heat of battle?”
I tried not to react. He’d seized upon my darkest secret. My greatest shame.
“You call yourself a man of honor, Magnus. Yet you’ve taken lives without regard for whether they’d done wrong. Is it honorable to kill a man because he shows loyalty? Fights for his laird as you’ve fought for yours?”
His voice surrounded me. Deep and low, penetrating my defenses more surely than the sharpest blade. “Remember the young lad you murdered? The one defending his homeland? He gazed up at you, pleading for mercy, but you ran him through with your sword.”
I tried to tell myself it was a lucky guess. What warrior has not killed a younger man? But as he spoke, I saw the terrified face I could not erase from my memory. Heard the voice, not yet bearing the timbre of a grown man, pleading for his life. The nameless lad was one of the ghosts who plagued me the most.
He came toward me, one step at a time. Speaking words that seared my soul. “You call me evil. The Lord of Darkness. But deep down, are we any different? Every time you go into battle, you usurp the power of the gods. You become judge and executioner, deciding who will live and who will die by your hand. You say you live by a code of honor. Yet your past is as dark as mine. Your queen – our queen – deserves better.
“Listen to them, Magnus. The voices of those you slaughtered. Hear the truth – and then perform the most honorable act of your life. Wipe the slate clean that you may enter the afterlife with your honor intact. Listen to their voices then wield your sword one last time – and take your own life.”
All around me, shadows began rising up from the ground. First, the souls of those I’d just killed. Then others. Faces from my past, advancing toward me with their hands outstretched, just as they did in my nightmares. Except, this time, I was wide awake.
I heard their voices. Faint whispers at first, reminding me of the battle they fought me in. The way I’d killed them. They told of the wives and l
overs left behind to grieve, the children who grew up never knowing a father’s love.
The voices grew louder, the faces more distinct as they drew nearer, cutting off my path to the temple. I looked into their eyes, frozen in pain and sorrow at the moment of death. I saw their fear. I felt their anguish. I heard their desperate pleas for mercy.
The Dark Lord stepped back through the bronze door into the chamber. His eyes glowed red with fire, and he smiled at me again as he reached for the sacred stone. I let out a wild cry. I had to get to him. Stop him before he seized it and claimed its power.
He gave no signal I could see, but suddenly my victims swarmed me. Their bony hands grasping, their voices rising in spine-tingling shrieks and moans. They grabbed me, pulling me down. Down to the Underworld. Into Chaos.
I raised my sword. Not to take my own life, but to defend myself from the onslaught. Then I let it fall. There was no use fighting.
You cannot kill the dead.
Chapter Eighteen
Melisandre
Of course, I followed him.
The call of duty, the grave responsibility on my shoulders, overrode all other concerns, including my own safety or that of my lover.
I waited a decent interval, stoked up the fire to keep stray animals out of the cave, then slipped into the shadows, pulling my coat tight around my chin. We were high in the mountains where the nights grew cold.
Stars glittered in the heavens, and a light dusting of snowflakes reflected their light as they fell to earth, covering the ground. Under other circumstances I’d have stopped to take in the beauty.
Though Magnus was nowhere to be seen, I was able to follow his footprints in the snow by the light of the Seven Stars. They shone brightly, and I said a silent prayer to the Goddess, thanking her for their comforting presence and asking her blessing on this night.
Chaos Born: A Sci-Fi Menage Romance (Warriors of the Seven Stars Book 2) Page 10
