Faine wrapped his arms even tighter around his wife and held onto her as though he would lose her forever should he let go.
They stood frozen in that embrace until their arms began to tire. Shinira cried gently onto his shoulder then she gazed up into his eyes and brought her lips to his. He closed his eyes when the softness of her mouth touched him. He felt his body begin to shudder. He realized in that moment he had been afraid he would never see her again and all the struggles and fear he had felt in the past months began slowly melting away from him like the hot sun melts away the winter snow. All of his tight muscles relaxed at once and he felt his weight shift onto Shinira, causing her to stumble slightly.
Shinira pulled away from him and gazed deeply into his eyes. She never released her grip, knowing that if he did not have her support, he would collapse where he stood.
“Come.” She said, pulling gently on his arms and leading him to the bed. They stopped at the foot and without saying anything; Shinira began untying the straps of his armor. Bit by bit she pulled away the chainmail and boiled leather, relieving some of the heaviness that weighed down upon him. Faine let out a small sigh of relief with each piece that was lifted and when Shinira began untying his boots, he let himself fall onto the bed. She raised his right foot and yanked the boot free then did the same with the left.
Faine lay on his back, eyes closed to the world, fighting the urge to fall into a deep slumber. I must see my son first. He tried to sit up to get a glance into the cradle but the exhaustion was too great. It was as though there was an invisible force pushing him down into the bed and it fought against him the more he struggled.
Shinira was suddenly beside him with a damp cloth. She began wiping away the blood and dirt from his face then she moved to his neck and shoulders and arms, trying her best to clean the stain of the last several months away.
Faine struggled to open his eyes and when he did, he lifted his head slightly and smiled at his wife.
Shinira reached up and put a flat hand upon his chest. “You must rest.” She said. She smiled back and threw the damp cloth onto the table next to the bed.
“I must see my son.” He replied, turning his head towards the cradle.
Shinira shook her head and scooted her body to be next to his. She curled up next to his side and placed her head on his shoulder.
“He is asleep. I see the weariness in your eyes. You must rest then you will see your son.” She reached up and placed her hand on his forehead, pushing his head back onto the pillow.
“Sleep, my love.” Her singsong voice seemed to echo within the small room and Faine gave in to his burning desire for rest. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back into the soft mattress and before Shinira could remove her hand from his forehead, he was snoring softly.
In his dreams, Faine saw the face of the man he once called a brother. Amag’mar’s malicious eyes glowed red like fire and he could feel heat rise from the ground beneath his feet. Faine tried to step back but everywhere he moved was hot- the flames threatening to burst around him and consume him.
Faine raised his eyes upward and tried desperately to draw in a storm to wash away the impending threat of fire, but somehow Amag’mar was blocking his powers. He could not gather a single cloud to come to his aid.
But as the heat rose, Faine suddenly felt a shaking at his breast. He looked down to see the stone that hung from a chain around his neck glowing in rage. It shouted at him, telling him that everything he needed to conquer the demon was right there within his grasp- and so it was.
He felt the hilt of a sword form in his hands and watched as the blade appeared from nowhere. The stone that dangled at his breast suddenly melted in the heat and fell upon the steel of the blade, seeping into its surface and sending steam into the air in ghost-like tendrils. Then Faine’s hand began to bleed. He watched with sudden amazement as the blood ran from his fingertips and soaked into the sword, just as the stone had. There was no pain, but rather, a sudden surge of power flowed within him. He felt it rise up from the sword into his arms, giving him the strength he desperately needed. He looked back to his brother and noticed, for the first time, the stone that dangled freely at his neck.
The stone was glowing, much as Faine’s had been. Its red hue flowed into Amag’mar’s eyes, giving him the strength of the fire within it.
Faine woke with a start. He sat upright in bed, carelessly letting the arm of his wife that was draped over him fall to the side. He looked down to the pulsing stone and suddenly, he knew what had to be done. He knew how he could end this war. It would not be with an army- thousands of men and swords- but with a single man and a single sword.
But first, the sword must be forged.
Faine threw the blankets away from him and stood, stepping around the cradle and forgetting that his son lay within. He reached down for his leathers and began hastily dressing.
Shinira sat upright and began rubbing at her tired eyes. When she turned her gaze towards him, she frowned.
“I thought we would have more time together.” Her voice rang with the sadness that was in her heart.
“I’ve had a vision.” He said with urgency. “I can end this war if I act quickly.”
“You are going to launch another attack?” The sadness in Shinira’s voice was replaced with fear.
“No.” Faine said as he sat at the edge of the bed and began pulling on his boots. He ignored the headache that began setting in to the best of his abilities. “No more men need to die. I can end this but I must do it alone.” Suddenly, Shinira’s face went pale and she began to tremble.
“What do you mean alone?”
Before Faine could answer, a soft whimper came from the cradle and then the whimper turned into a cry. It was the cry of a newborn babe, soft and gentle but full of distress. Shinira rushed to the crib, leaned over and lifted Edward into her arms. She stood before Faine and held the crying baby close to her chest.
“Do you wish to see your son now?” She asked in a soft voice. Faine nodded and stood on shaky legs. He reached his arms out, realizing that never before had he held a baby.
Shinira held Edward out, supporting his head until Faine placed his open palm around it. She let go and Edward was now in Faine’s grasp. His tiny frame seemed so fragile and weightless. He held to him tightly for fear of dropping him then loosened his grip for fear of squeezing too hard. He pulled back the blanket that was wrapped around Edward’s head so that he could see the child’s face clearly.
Edward stopped crying and looked up into the eyes of his father. His head was crowned with a tangled mop of bright red hair and his eyes sparkled like emeralds on a sunny day.
Faine’s tears were streaming down his face before he even knew he was crying. He smiled at the pale, inquisitive face staring back at him and wondered how someone so small could fill his heart with so much joy; especially after the months of terror he had just lived through.
“Hello Edward.” He said in a whisper. “I am your father.” He tried to wipe the tears away before they dripped onto Edward’s face.
For several minutes, father and son were locked together in their gaze. Faine felt that it would cause him physical pain to look away from the face of his son, so full of innocence and beauty.
Suddenly, Edward began wriggling in Faine’s arms then his face crinkled and he began to cry. “He is hungry.” Shinira said and she reached out to take Edward from Faine.
Faine watched in silent wonderment as Shinira sat at the edge of the bed and loosened the sleeve of her robe to reveal her breast, which had swelled to an impossible size. She placed Edward at her exposed nipple and the crying ceased. When she looked back up to Faine, her face was shrouded in the same fear he had seen there moments ago, before Edward interrupted them.
“What do you plan to do, my love?”
“I must make a sword powerful enough to destroy Amag’mar’s stone. It is the only way to take his magic from him.”
“How will it be done?” She
asked, shifting the baby in her arms.
“My own stone must be melded into the steel.”
Shinira gasped. “But wouldn’t that destroy your magic?” Faine nodded. “And you are willing to give that up?”
“I am willing to do anything to stop the Lord of Death, even if it means sacrificing the part of me that I love the most.” Shinira began to cry silent tears. Faine had not expected her to react in such a way. He sat at the edge of the bed next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“So long as I have you and Edward, nothing else matters. I will be a happy man.” He tried to smile but it was a feeble attempt.
There was a sudden, frantic knock at the door, as though someone on the other side desperately needed a place to hide.
“Faine!” He instantly recognized the voice of his sister. “Open up!”
Faine practically ran to the door and threw it open. He was not aware that Shinira had jumped from the bed and followed him in a panic with Edward still suckling at her breast.
“What is wrong?” He asked Hebkya, who had obviously run to his room. Her face was red and her breathing was heavy from exhaustion.
“The King has summoned you. You better come at once!”
Faine spun and found his sword lying upon the floor. He picked it up and leaned forward to give Shinira a gentle kiss on the cheek before sprinting from the room after his sister. She led him down the still cluttered corridor and up several flights of stairs to the sixth floor where the King’s room was. Hebkya did not bother waiting for the guards who were stationed outside to open the door, nor did she bother to knock before throwing the door open. Faine found it odd the guards would not hinder their entry but as he caught a sideways glance at one of the young men’s faces, he could clearly see panic in his eyes, as though he knew not to keep Faine from reaching the King as quickly as possible.
Once inside, Hebkya slowed to a quick walk and led Faine out to the balcony where King Alaron stood, staring out over the castle grounds. His face was gaunt and pale and looked as though he had aged over the last two hours that Faine had not been in his presence.
“He is here.” It was all the King needed to say to make Faine’s heart sink. He slowly stepped to the edge of the balcony to peer over, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, as though Amag’mar could jump the distance from the ground to where they stood.
And there he was; standing amidst the shambling undead army he had created and the corpses of Faine’s fallen soldiers, still littering the ground with their lifeless forms. He was draped in his usual dark cloak from what Faine could tell but from so far up, he could not see Amag’mar clearly. He could see, however, the dark cloud of fog begin to rise around his brother, as though it came straight up from the ground beneath his feet. Faine tensed at the sight of it. He knew what was about to happen and he was powerless to stop it. He gripped his sword even tighter and held his breath as the cloud began to grow and spread, covering the ground like a thick blanket.
“We must stop this!” The King said in a frightened voice. Faine shook his head.
“There is no way of stopping it, your grace. Not yet.”
In silence they watched the heavy cloud spread over the land below as an ocean of darkness. The corpses of Faine’s fallen men were devoured by the black tendrils. Faine felt a shudder run through his bones as he watched the cloud- a gateway from the shadow realm. He could feel the icy coldness of the world beyond the grave reach upwards towards him as the gateway was opening. He could almost see the souls of the damned crawling upon the waves of the shadow cloud, returning to their broken and disfigured bodies.
There was much about the shadow realm Faine did not understand, but what he did understand was that whatever demon reigned there was determined to destroy the world above and it was his own brother being used as the tool to do it. Faine had never quite gotten over the devastation or guilt he felt over his brother’s change of heart. He remembered the day they found the stones as freshly as he remembered this morning. It was clear to him that Amag’mar’s stone had possessed him with some evil darkness that made him do its will. He suddenly realized perhaps Amag’mar could be saved. Should the stone, and all its powers, be destroyed, would Amag’mar return to the person he was before we found the stones? Will its hold over him break?
The cloud suddenly dispersed and the corpses littering the ground began to shift and move as they pushed themselves to their feet. Once steady on their legs, they wasted no time in turning and running for the city. Faine’s heart began to race.
“They are heading for Axendra!” The King shouted, pointing to the host of dead below as if Faine could not see it with his own eyes.
King Alaron turned to Faine. “You must gather your men and stop them!”
“I cannot, your grace. It is too late for that.”
The King’s face suddenly contorted in a fit of rage. “They will tear the city apart!”
“And they will tear what remains of our army apart if I chase after them.” Faine argued.
Suddenly, a large group of cloaked figures appeared from the edge of the forest and began hastily making their way towards Amag’mar. One cloaked figured stood out above the rest, for her cloak was not dark like the other cultists, but red.
The red witch. Faine felt his hands begin to shake with fury. She was responsible for convincing living men to join in Amag’mar’s cause. Many of Faine’s own men had been stolen by her or murdered by her spies. She herself could create flame like his brother, though her powers were not as strong as Amag’mar’s. She had burned several houses of prominent men that could have aided Faine and the realm, usually with them and their entire families still inside.
She stood next to Amag’mar and wrapped an arm around his shoulders and the rest followed the shadow army into the city.
Faine decided he could no longer stay and watch and do nothing. He turned and began making his way towards the door. He needed to find the royal blacksmith and somehow convince him to go outside to his shop and make a sword.
“Where are you going?” King Alaron asked with a slight note of annoyance.
“I am going to end this war.” Faine said as he pushed himself through the door. He heard the soft pattering of his sister’s feet behind him.
“Are you going to have the sword crafted?” Faine stopped suddenly and turned to look into his sister’s eyes.
“How do you know about that?”
“I had the vision, last night. When you said there was no way of stopping Amag’mar yet, I knew you must have had the dream too. You cannot stop him yet because you do not yet have the weapon to do it.”
Faine nodded. “It is the only way.”
“I will help you.” Hebkya said. She took Faine’s hands in hers and gave him a gentle kiss upon the cheek. “Amag’mar must fall.”
The blacksmith’s shop was hot, even in the coldness that surrounded them. Sparks flew through the air and landed at Faine’s feet. The smoke that filled the room burned his nostrils but he stood motionless, as though he were made of stone. The pounding of the hammer upon the steel of the blade was nearly deafening and Faine would have found it unpleasant if it weren’t the sound of the greatest weapon they would ever possess being made. Instead, each ear-throbbing bang that echoed through the small hut brought hope to his heart and a small smile to his face. He stood along the back edge of the wall with Hebkya at his side, watching the blacksmith pound out the rough edges of the sword.
A young girl entered the hut with three glasses balanced in her hands. She handed one first to Hebkya then to Faine, then sauntered cautiously over to where the blacksmith stood, trying to avoid the flying sparks. When he saw her, he immediately stopped his hammering and raised his face shield.
“Thank you, Meg.” He said to the girl as he took the glass from her. She smiled at him before turning and walking towards the door.
“Breakfast will be ready in an hour.” She said then disappeared around the shop’s outer wall.
> “Take a moment to rest, Burton.” Faine said to the blacksmith. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it as Burton hobbled over and let his exhausted body fall clumsily into it. Faine felt a pang of guilt as he watched the old, tired man take a drink of sweet wine with a shaky hand. He had been working Burton endlessly for two days and two nights.
The sword had to be forged as quickly as possible, there was no question about that, but Faine’s original plan involved two blacksmiths- one to work the days and one to work the nights. Burton had told him that this plan was folly. “Quintin is a good lad but he is my apprentice. If you want the best sword ever made, you need the best blacksmith to make it and all the other blacksmiths are trapped in the city.”
Burton had surprised Faine with his determination to create the sword within a few days, only stopping when he felt he could not physically continue. And even then he would hunker down in the corner of the shop and sleep for no longer than an hour at a time. Quintin had been in and out, aiding the old man when he could but Quintin had succumbed to his exhaustion long ago.
“I’ll have the sword ready by the end of the day.” Burton said, taking another sip of wine.
Faine placed a grateful hand on the old man’s shoulders and said; “thank you. Your willingness to aid me will not go unrewarded.”
“The only reward I need is to know that I helped kill that bastard in some way.” Burton said in an angry voice.
“Faine,” Hebkya whispered at his side, “the conference with the King is about to begin.”
Faine nodded, drank all of his wine in one gulp and set the glass aside. “I will return afterward.” He told Burton.
They left through the side door and Hebkya followed Faine through the stables and towards the kitchen entrance of the castle.
“Will you check on Shinira and Edward for me?” Faine asked as they pushed their way through the smoke-filled kitchens. Faine’s belly grumbled at the smell of bacon and bread but he ignored it, knowing he had no time for eating.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 45
