He’d attended Denes after Imelin left, seeing the man to a healer and ensuring none of the injuries were mortal. The rest was easy. With so many men and darklings occupying the area, he was able to secure what he needed and disappear when everyone was otherwise occupied. He paused at the southern mouth of the pass to look back down on the men he once called friend and comrade.
He’d miss them, but he’d be alive to do so. The war against the Hierarchy was already well underway with who knew how much more before the end. How many of those friends in the valley below wouldn’t be alive to see that end? How many would lie face down in a field, nameless and forgotten, while the rest of the world carried on? His conscience refused to allow him to be part of something so… final.
Life had been precarious at best since the Aragoth army turned guerrilla and declared an underground war against the Hierarchy. Ute suffered no qualms during that campaign, long as it was. It was this fight, for the wizard, that troubled his mind. So it was that he turned his back and fled. Asking others to join him was out of the question. Odds were, he would have been turned in and executed as a traitor. He very much valued his life and that of the others. If the weather held, and his luck, he’d be through the pass and heading northeast back to Aragoth without interference from marauding armies bent on destroying one another.
Ute Hai was many things, optimist not among them. A soft nudge of his boot and the horse entered the dark mouth of the Unchar Pass. He was done with the war. Done with the Rovers, and done with the madness consuming everyone he knew. Life had more to offer. He just needed to find a place to settle down and enjoy it before time caught up to him and put him in the ground.
***
League after league sped by under hoof and foot. The soft hills of southern Galdea gradually turned to the rocky plains of northern Trimlon and again to the grasslands of Valadon. The central kingdom had yet to be buried under feet of snow like the northern half of the Free Lands. The air had grown chill but life continued normally for the thousands of citizens struggling to make a life. Normal, except for the rising tensions and the fast approaching war pushing down from the north.
Every town and village the three riders entered was awash with rumors and fear. Many families had already packed what few belongings they owned and were headed for the security of Meisthelm. It was a false promise. The hope that once was the Hierarchy had decayed beyond the point of salvation. But how could these peasants know that two massive armies of darklings were even now converging on the city?
“We should rest now. The open steppes of Valadon stretch for a hundred leagues,” Halvor suggested.
Burns covered the majority of his body. His flesh was blackened, charred in more places. Pink skin began to show where Anni Sickali’s magic had already began healing him, but the process was long and far from complete. The Red Brotherhood priest spoke in rasps. His eyes bore perpetual pain. Pain that could have been relieved, had he wished it. Instead, Halvor decided to keep it as reminder of his position. The last of the cell stationed in Galdarath. The fallen guardians of the Staff of Life. His cell may have been destroyed but his purpose had never been stronger.
“Our enemy will broker no delays,” Anni Sickali replied. The crone idly tapped her fingertips together. “Imelin is cunning and will use our confusion and natural hesitancy to his advantage. I sense his desire.”
Harrin Slinmyer frowned after swallowing a mouthful of water. “Dlorn and the army are keeping him busy on the rivers. Imelin won’t reach Meisthelm before early spring.”
“You overestimate the Galdean army,” Anni told him. “Dlorn is capable but was never the target. Galdea was in the way. The darklings needed to break out of Suroc Tol so the Black orchestrated the fall of Dol’ir and the flooding of your kingdom. I have seen such before in my own kingdom. Many brave men will fall making a stand but the Black will have secreted thousands, if not more, of his army south, while the great army is distracted. Cunning, that one, but ultimately predictable for one who has studied the ways of magic.”
“If what you say is true, the Hierarchy may well be under siege already,” Harrin added after some thought. “All the more reason not to stop.”
“What then shall we do when we arrive at Meisthelm, exhausted and beaten down from hard days on the road?” Halvor asked. “If the city is infested, we won’t find entrance.”
“It seems we are damned regardless of our decision,” Harrin said.
Anni slapped her knee and crackled a laugh. “Ha ha! I haven’t had an adventure like this in a lifetime!”
Harrin wasn’t sure adventure was the term he’d use. He held no love for the Hierarchy, only Galdea. But if Meisthelm fell, so too, would the rest of the Free Lands. The choice was never in doubt.
“If that is the case, let us rest the horses. A few hours won’t make the difference between life and death. Eat, drink, and rest. Meisthelm awaits us.”
The unlikely trio pulled off of the main road. It was a moment there would be little time for in the coming days. War, and the future of the Free Lands awaited.
END
The story continues in The Land of Wicked Shadows: Immortality Shattered Book III
ONE
A New Journey
Temperatures continued to drop as the full swing of winter roared in well over a month too early. The cold was yet another devilish weapon from the Black Imelin’s deadly arsenal unleashed upon the Free Lands. Under the lackadaisical rule of the Hierarchy Imelin had turned traitor, made alliances with the darkling kingdom of Suroc Tol to the northeast, and unleashed a war the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the time of Ils Kincannon and the Knights of the Seven Manacles.
Aron Kryte, commander of a troop of Golden Warriors, the finest soldiers in the lands, thought long and hard on the ever growing powers of the Black. All the wizard lacked was the Staff of Life to rule. Fortunately, the Staff was well on the way to safety and away from the major fighting. Or so he prayed. There was no way to verify that until he reached the mountain city-fortress of Hyrast far to the north.
He failed to see anything short of the Staff being able to stop the Black. So much so that his mind couldn’t overlook the fact even as he and Jod Theron marched across the game trails crisscrossing Almarin. Thousands had already died with the promise of so many more yet to come. To the best of Aron’s knowledge his forces hadn’t so much as dented the might the Black displayed. So what were they missing? The fate of the entire world was hanging in the balance and everything he needed in order to succeed remained just outside of his grasp. The dilemma hounded him with each footstep.
Old man Theron took him from the obscurity of clouded thought with a gleeful chuckle as they arrived at a lone farmhouse. Aron slipped back to the moment and scanned the area. Soldier instincts took over and he searched for hidden threats. Odd, no smoke poured from the chimney. No smell of warmth. He heard the faint creaking of rusted hinges as the front door swung too and fro with the winds.
“Friends?” he asked.
Jod nodded. “Some of the few I actually have, yes. We help each other during harsh times.”
Anguish flooded him, clashing with predatory instincts. Aron sensed danger. “This is not right. I think we may have been beaten here.”
Jod stopped and tried to find anything obvious out of the ordinary. His sight at distance was failing, but his senses became more in-tuned the older he became. Never a soldier, Jod was well versed in the ways of the world. What he knew remained secret, so secret not even the young lordling would find out if he didn’t want him to. The dogs hunched down and sniffed the air. Their hair stood on end. Each growled in warning.
“We must be cautious,” Aron whispered and drew his sword.
He was moving before Jod replied, his warrior self took over as he danced through the sparse grove of trees leading up to the farmhouse. Possibilities of what might have happened were endless. The great battle of the Crimson Fields had occurred less than a day’s journey north of here and not
long ago. No doubt remnants of both the darkling and Galdean armies were moving through this part of Almarin. It took little imagination to think what might have happened to the farmers.
Thankful he convinced Jod to take him back to the stretch of the icy Simca River where he’d been found, Aron clutched his salvaged sword tighter. He shivered at the memory of plunging into those waters as darklings swarmed onto the fragile rope bridge to get to him. The rope broke and the river took them all. His last sight was of the horror on his friend’s faces as he went under water.
Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to keep up with a man half his age, Jod slowly made his way down the knoll toward his friend’s home. For a brief moment he doubted his decision to come out of seclusion and thought of going home to wait out the end. Deep down however, he knew it was well past time to return to Meisthelm. Those responsible for the ending of his old life were long gone, but there were still amends needed to be made.
The Golden Warrior wasted no time on thought. Flanked by Jod’s dogs, he was up on the porch and ready to burst inside. His senses told him whatever had happened was long past but there was danger in having a false sense of security. Aron’s fingers curled around the edge of the door. He pushed and stepped inside. The dogs slinked past and fanned out.
Aron found the first body in the archway leading to the kitchen. She was very young, and very dead. Telltale signs of a darkling attack peppered the house. His sorrow for the dead rose, for they never stood a chance. Snow blew in through one of the broken windows. No doubt the monsters came during the night. Surprise was complete for the wife yet wore her cooking apron. A bowl and wooden spoon lay beside her in epitaph.
The rest of the family lay scattered around the house. He couldn’t imagine being the last to die. The knowledge that all you held dear was already lost and your turn was next. Yet with that knowledge he found it odd that nothing in the house was disturbed. Nothing out of place. The house was in much the same condition as it was before the attack. This was a hunt for sport.
He finished his inspection and found Jod sitting in a rocking chair on the porch with his head in his hands. He was much too old to cry over the inevitable, no matter how tragic, though the pain of losing friends hurt deep.
“They were peaceful people. They didn’t deserve this,” he said without lifting his head.
“No one does,” Aron answered and spat onto the snow.
“Why?”
It was a question without an easy answer. How could Aron explain that this was all part of a madman’s quest to destroy the world? That without Imelin these monsters would still be trapped in Suroc Tol. Aron could only shake his head.
“There is no answer, my friend, but I can tell you this. The rest of the Free Lands will suffer similarly if my friends and I are unsuccessful. I fear this may be the final war.”
Jod sniffled once. “It is sad to watch what this world has become. Is there any way we can save ourselves from this insanity?”
“There are times when I think no, but the power in our hearts holds the key to survival. The only way to win is by destroying the Staff of Life and the wizard who seeks to wield it. Then and only then will we be safe from evil’s grasp.”
“Everything is moving against you,” Jod replied. “Not even an innocent family stands protected against a war they know nothing of. What offer of hope can you give these people when they discover you can’t save them from doom?”
“What can I say?” Aron answered after a time. “I have no family of my own but my friends. I will do anything to keep them alive and end this war.”
The hermit snorted. “By that logic casualties are necessary so long as they serve the greater good of the cause?”
“If it means defeating this darkness and returning the lands to the light which it needs? Yes. I would gladly sacrifice myself for that.”
“Congratulations, young man. You have just learned a very valuable lesson in the ways of the world.” Jod seemed oddly pleased.
“Do we bury them now?”
“No. We do not have time. Your friends are in need of you and every moment counts. I have already checked the barn. Whoever did this left the animals alone. There are a few horses and a quality wagon. We should get going as soon as possible.”
“But your friends…”
Jod’s smile was sad. “Are already gone. No further harm can befall them.”
Whoever Jod once was, Aron came to view him as a tactical man.
Together they left the blood-stained floors of the farmhouse and saddled up the horses. The day was but half over and it would be many more before the pair reached Hyrast.
OTHER BOOKS BY CHRISTIAN WARREN FREED
Everyone knows Elves don’t exist. Or do they? Daniel Thomas spent years making a career of turning his imagination into the reality of best selling fantasy novels. But times are tough. No one wants to read about elves and dragons anymore. Daniel learns this firsthand when his agent flatly says no to his latest and, what he deems, to be greatest novel yet. Dissatisfied with the turn to zombies and vampire lovers, he takes his manuscript and heads out to confront his agent.
His world changes when he finds his agent dying on the floor of her office. Too late to help, he watches as her dead body disintegrates into a pile of ash and dust. Daniel doesn’t have time to ponder what just happened as a band of assassins breaks in, forcing him to flee to the Citadel and the home of the king of the high elves in order to survive. Daniel soon discovers that all of the creatures he once thought he imagined actually exist and are living among us. His revelation comes at a price however, as he is drawn into a murder-mystery that will push him to the edge of sanity and show him things no human has witnessed in centuries.
Everyone knows Elves don’t exist. Or do they? Daniel Thomas spent years making a career of turning his imagination into the reality of best selling fantasy novels. But times are tough. No one wants to read about elves and dragons anymore. Daniel learns this firsthand when his agent flatly says no to his latest and, what he deems, to be greatest novel yet. Dissatisfied with the turn to zombies and vampire lovers, he takes his manuscript and heads out to confront his agent.
His world changes when he finds his agent dying on the floor of her office. Too late to help, he watches as her dead body disintegrates into a pile of ash and dust. Daniel doesn’t have time to ponder what just happened as a band of assassins breaks in, forcing him to flee to the Citadel and the home of the king of the high elves in order to survive. Daniel soon discovers that all of the creatures he once thought he imagined actually exist and are living among us. His revelation comes at a price however, as he is drawn into a murder-mystery that will push him to the edge of sanity and show him things no human has witnessed in centuries.
Malweir was once governed by the order of Mages, bringers of peace and light. Centuries past and the lands prospered. But all was not well. Unknown to most, one mage desired power above all else. He turned his will to the banished Dark Gods and brought war to the free lands. Only a handful of mages survived the betrayal and the Silver Mage was left free to twist the darker races to his bidding. The only thing he needs to complete his plan and rule the world forever are the four shards of the crystal of Tol Shere.
Having spent most of their lives dreaming about leaving their sleepy village and travelling the world, Delin Kerny and Fennic Attleford never thought that one day they would be forced to flee their town to save their lives. Everything changes when they discover the fabled Star Silver sword and learn that there are some who want the weapon for themselves. Hunted by a ruthless mercenary, the boys run from Fel Darrins and are forced into the adventure they only dreamed about.
Ever ashamed of the horrors his kind let loose on the world the last mage, Dakeb, lives his life in shadows. The only thing keeping him alive is his quest to stop the Silver Mage from reassembling the crystal. His chance finally comes through the hearts and wills of Delin and Fennic. Dakeb bestows upon them the crystal shard, entrusting them with
the one thing capable of restoring peace to Malweir.
It is the 23rd century. Humankind has reached the stars, building a tentative empire across a score of worlds. Earth’s central government rules weakly as several worlds continue their efforts toward independence. Shadow organizations hide in the midst of the political infighting. Their manifestations of power and influence are beholden only to the highest bidder. The most powerful/insidious/secret of these, The Lazarus Men, has existed for decades, always working outside of morality’s constraints. Led by the enigmatic Mr. Shine, their agents are hand selected from the worst humanity has to offer and available for the right price.
Gerald LaPlant lives an ordinary life on Old Earth. That life is thrown into turmoil on the night he stumbles upon the murder of what appears to be a street thief. Fleeing into the night, Gerald finds himself hunted by agents of Roland McMasters, an extremely powerful man dissatisfied with the current regime and with designs on ruling his own empire. In order to do so, McMasters needs the fabled Eye of Karakzaheim, a map leading to immeasurable wealth. Unknown to either man, Mr. Shine has deployed agents in search of the same artifact and will stop at nothing to obtain it.
Running for his life, Gerald quickly becomes embroiled in a conspiracy reaching deep into levels of government that he never imagined existed. His every move is hounded by McMasters’ agents and the Lazarus Men. His adventures take him away from the relative safety of Old Earth across the stars and into the heart of McMasters’ fledgling empire. The future of the Earth Alliance at stake. If Gerald has any hope of surviving and helping saving the alliance he must rely on his wits and awakened instincts while foregoing the one thing that could get him killed more quickly than the rest: trust.
The Bitter War of Always: Immortality Shattered: Book 2 Page 28
