by Kris A Hiatt
“Not so dangerous,” Moff argued. “They’ll see our uniforms and leave it at that. They’ll be too busy fighting to give us another thought.”
“We’ll be in range of virtually every archer in Haven,” Raythien pointed out.
“I’m not worried. Have you met their trainer?”
“You won’t be smirking when there’s dozens of arrows flying at us,” Raythien assured him.
“I will when they all miss me,” Moff replied.
“Who says they’ll all miss?”
“They better, or else this was a stupid plan. Besides, I’m with the only person that I’m scared could hit me on a dead run,” Moff explained, struggling to get his new armor buckled over his likewise new yellow shirt.
“They could get lucky,” Raythien reasoned. “Then again, if you don’t hurry up, I’ll shoot you myself.”
He folded the shirt and finally got the last buckle done. “It’s the only range that you could actually hit me from.”
“Just get moving,” Raythien instructed.
Despite his bravado about not being worried, he was quite afraid he wouldn’t make it through this. It was a ridiculous plan that had very little chance of success, but he very much wanted to put an arrow through Shamir’s chest. That man had given the order to kill Moff’s father and brother. If Moff could somehow manage to be the one to kill Shamir, it was worth the risk. So, with both trepidation and excitement, Moff sprinted for the wall.
Once there, Moffred boosted Raythien up, then accepted a hand in reaching the top.
“The bastard is already at the gates!” Raythien announced a moment later.
Moff looked over the wall and down the line. They were lucky they climbed this portion of the wall. It jutted out several feet further than that of the gate and was angled slightly out, away from the bay. His sight wasn’t obstructed by anything so he had a good view of what was going on. He was expecting to see the two forces still fighting. They weren’t. Liernin’s forces were nowhere to be seen. The vast majority of Shamir’s men stood right outside the gates. They stood in formations that were at least a hundred yards wide and twice as long. And there, seated comfortably atop his wagon near to the front, was Shamir. Next to him was Moff’s old magister, Brental. “He’s bold, I’ll give him that. One arrow and he’d be dead.”
“We have no archers on the wall,” Raythien remarked.
It was true. Moff expected to see multiple archers firing arrows into Shamir’s ranks, but there were none. Just then, one of Liernin’s men climbed atop the wall with a bow and stood up, presumably to fire an arrow, but was brought down by Shamir’s archers on the ground. “Even with the advantage of position our archers are still at a disadvantage. Shamir just has too many men.”
“This changes things,” Raythien said.
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t go to the back lines if he’s already at the gate,” Raythien explained. “And we can’t just walk down the wall. We’ll be spotted and killed for certain.”
“You’re right. It just got easier,” Moff replied.
“Exactly how do you feel this is easier?”
“We drop down from the wall and follow it to the gate, safely out of sight of any archers that may be inside of the city,” Moff explained.
“I understand that. And I agree that we could easily get within range of Shamir. But how do you propose we take him out and get out with our lives?” Raythien asked, quite skeptically.
“You figure that out,” Moff replied. “I’ve figured out the rest.”
“Do you even care if you live or die?” Raythien asked.
There it was. The question that he had toiled over ever since his family was killed. Until recently that was. At first he leaned in the direction of not caring. Later he decided that he most certainly did. While the pain of his loss was great, he was still young and had the chance to have a quality life. But, he didn’t like the idea of allowing Shamir to get what he wanted. With Shamir in power, how many more families would be executed for crimes they didn’t commit? How many families would be ripped apart by that man and his ambitions? If Moff could spare another family from going through something even close to what he experienced, then he decided the risk to his own life was worth it. “I do care. I’d much prefer to live. I want to be the one to tell the story of how my arrow was the one that brought down the beast. But, I can’t see another option to bring the monster down, can you?”
“No,” Raythien admitted. “But sit tight and let’s think this over for a minute. We can find a way to kill the beast and get out alive. We don’t need to be martyrs.”
Moff ducked low to keep himself out of sight. He thought about it for a while and couldn’t think of any way to get the job done without also putting themselves in grave danger. If they were going to be close enough to get a good shot at bringing Shamir down, then they would also be close enough to be fired upon by Shamir’s men. The best Moff could come up with was to use the platform along the top of the wall to get as close to Shamir as possible. That posed its own risks, but it seemed like the safest bet. “We use the wall to get close enough to take a shot.”
“We’ll be shot long before we get there,” Raythien protested. “By our own men!”
“We run. With the buildings and other obstacles we’ll only be in their line of sight for a few seconds,” Moff reasoned.
“And if they aren’t obstructed? Then what? They’ll have plenty of time to hit us, even on the run.”
“We fire arrows to keep them at bay while we run. Not to actually hit anyone, but just to keep them from firing on us,” Moff suggested. He knew it sounded crazy, but if the men thought that they were taking fire, they’d be less likely to fire an arrow at them. Even if arrows were fired back at them, Moff suspected that their accuracy would be greatly reduced.
“Those on Shamir’s side would see two men, dressed in their colors, shooting arrows into Liernin’s ranks. They’d mistake us for their own men for certain. They wouldn’t fire upon us,” Raythien said, talking to himself more than anything and sounding as if the plan had some merit.
“So you think it’s a good plan then?” Moff asked.
“Well,” Raythien began, scratching his chin. “If we followed our original plan it would be plain suicide. Even with what you’re proposing there’s a good chance we’ll be killed by our own men before we can get close enough to Shamir. But at least we’d have a chance.”
“You don’t have to go,” Moff told the man. “I understand the risks. I’m willing to ignore them but I don’t expect anyone else to.”
“And miss out on being able to tell people that it was my arrow that brought down Shamir? I don’t think so,” Raythien replied, using Moff’s own words.
Moff had to admit that he’d misjudged Raythien. When Raythien first arrived, Moff thought him nothing more than a spy that would take any opportunity to kill any number of important people in Haven. Whether that was Liernin, Exodin, Drevic, or even Treace, it didn’t matter to Moff. He was dead set against allowing the man to have any type of freedom, let alone a spot in the army at his side. But after all the man had done to prove his loyalty, not to mention agreeing to go with Moff on this dangerous mission, Raythien had proven to be not only a valuable ally, but a trusted one as well. If they lived through this, Moff might even tell him as much.
“Stop smiling at me and let’s get moving,” Raythien said.
“I’m only smiling because you think it’s going to be your arrow and not mine,” Moff replied, proceeding down the walkway.
Chapter 31
Treace moved forward at a slow, steady pace. The snow crunched under his boots as he walked. He scanned the area for Jass but, so far, he hadn’t seen the woman. He figured that either she’d decided the money wasn’t worth the risk, or, more likely, she was comfortably seated in some position that offered her a good look at him while she formulated her next plan.
It was difficult to get a true count of how many of Disda
ne’s men were still in the courtyard. They weren’t in any recognizable formation. They were milling about, most of them keeping themselves between Disdane and the few of Liernin’s forces that were still fighting.
Disdane continued call out, telling his remaining opposition to stand down. He held Liernin’s head high in the air as he spoke, shaking it with every word. As if a severed head needed any emphasis. It pained Treace to see Liernin being used as a trophy. He pictured doing something similar with Disdane’s head and the idea of it wasn’t an unpleasant one. Even though he was exhausted, he knew it would be better for him to try to find The Calm and burn Disdane alive, but the man was still within the crowd. After seeing Disdane holding Liernin’s head high in the air, Treace wanted to do the same to Disdane and prove to himself that he was the better swordsman. He told Kiril, and himself, that he was just going to burn Disdane, but that idea took second seat to cutting him in two.
One of Disdane’s men noticed him then and rushed to get the large man’s attention. Disdane turned around to face him. The man had the audacity to smile at him.
“I’m surprised you’re still alive,” Disdane called out. “Perhaps I didn’t give you enough credit. I thought Jass would have easily finished you off once she was done with your girlfriend. Speaking of, I don’t see either one of them. Jass kill your lady and you kill her?”
Surprised. There was that word again. Was he truly surprised that Treace was alive? Or was he scared? Treace understood the difference. “Something like that,” Treace called out in return, not entirely believing that Disdane hadn’t seen Jass. “But I didn’t come here to talk. I came here to finish what we started.”
Disdane turned around and threw Lierin’s head toward the opening in the wall where the only fighting still remained. “I’ll be back shortly with the head of your hero to add to that one.”
It could have been the head that made the men stop fighting, or it was the mentioning and subsequent recognition of Treace that did it. Whichever didn’t ultimately matter, but it caused all eyes to turn on Treace then. There was a certain amount of respect there, but also trepidation.
Treace didn’t bother to reply to Disdane’s comment. The time for words was over. He twirled his swords in his hands as he stalked in, feeling their weight.
Several men started to move toward Treace, but Disdane stopped them long before they made it anywhere near their mark.
“You’ll never even hit me,” Disdane boasted as he strode toward Treace with supreme confidence.
Treace’s vision suddenly blurred. Kiril’s barrier was up.
The smug look on Disdane’s face disappeared instantly and the man halted his approach and began to backpedal. “Get him!” he commanded his men.
The men didn’t immediately move. If Treace had bothered to look at their faces, he would have seen the fear in their eyes. They wanted nothing to do with the magically protected warrior. But Treace wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were focused solely on Disdane. Treace wouldn’t allow the man to get away. He closed the gap as quickly as he could.
“I said attack, you idiots!” Disdane roared.
Treace slashed in hard with his right sword, which Disdane parried away as he backpedaled. He followed the right up with a thrust from his left, hoping the big man would try to bring his sword back in line for another parry.
Disdane did exactly that.
Out wide left went Treace’s sword and up high went Disdane’s. Normally, Treace would have to backpedal to ensure that he wasn’t cut in two from the man bringing the sword down hard from its position over Disdane’s shoulder. But, this time, he didn’t have to. He was protected by Kiril’s barrier, so instead he brought his right sword back in from right to left, putting as much of his strength behind it as he could.
Disdane, apparently understanding Treace’s intent and also knowing he couldn’t get through that barrier, didn’t bring his sword down in an attack. Instead, he launched himself to his right in a sideways roll.
The large man was nimble for someone of his size and although he performed the only move that he could to prevent from being hit, Treace was quicker. The tip of his sword connected with Disdane’s shoulder as the man tumbled to ground, cutting through the layers of clothing and into the flesh beneath them.
Disdane brought his roll to a halt and inspected his wound. “I said attack!” he screamed.
“But his magic—” one of the men began to protest.
“Won’t last forever!” Disdane blurted out, interrupting the man. The large man furrowed his brow as if in thought. Something must have dawned on him because he smiled yet again as he stood up. “His girlfriend. She’s still alive and around here somewhere. You three go find her!”
The three men that Disdane had pointed at began to move immediately. The others stood a good distance away, swords at the ready, but not openly attacking Treace.
Treace didn’t like the idea of them going to find Kiril, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He doubted that they’d find her before Kiril’s barrier would fall, which he assumed would be very soon. He had to get to Disdane. He moved in quickly toward the large man who continued to backpedal with large, exaggerated steps.
“Just stay away!” Disdane called out to his men, changing his backward steps for long sideways ones, putting him in a circling pattern around Treace. “Just stay away from him until the magic fades!”
Treace hadn’t thought of that possibility. He never thought Disdane would run from him. That wouldn’t do. Disdane was right. All the man had to do was avoid Treace until the barrier faded. He couldn’t allow that.
He ran toward Disdane, but the man’s long legs kept him out of Treace’s attack range.
Those of Liernin’s men that remained cheered Treace on and cursed Disdane for being a coward.
Treace ignored them and veered left then, toward a small group of men that weren’t moving quite fast enough to get out of his way.
He managed to bring down two before the rest of the group got away.
He put his back to Disdane, hoping the large man would take the bait and attack.
He didn’t.
Treace launched another assault on a nearby group, but didn’t manage to get close enough to anyone before they skittered away from him.
Again he tried, this time managing to get one man that tripped over his own feet.
His vision returned to normal then and he knew his fight was near its end. Kiril’s protective barrier was gone.
He looked around at Disdane and his men, who were busy looking at each other, and him, with caution. They made no move toward him, apparently unsure of whether the disappearance of the magical barrier was a trick or not.
Treace became vaguely aware of fighting sounds then, coming from behind him, where the opening in the courtyard wall was. He turned to find most, if not all, of Liernin’s remaining men fighting to get through that portal. Despite the fact that he knew it was for naught, he smiled. At least he had inspired others to get back into the fight. The fact that there were numerous more men fighting alongside the others never registered to him.
Even though they were fighting to get in, Treace knew they wouldn’t make in through in time to help him. They may eventually get to Disdane, but it wouldn’t be before Treace had fallen to the fifty or so men that had him surrounded.
Treace looked around for Kiril and was happy to find her on the stairs near where he left her. She wore an apologetic expression on her face that ate at his very being. It looked to him like she was blaming herself for not being able to hold the barrier longer. Treace didn’t see it that way. He was surprised she had managed to hold onto the barrier for as long as she did. He smiled at his usage of that word again. Surprised. It had been on his mind a lot lately.
He was going to fight to the very end, to perhaps get lucky enough to get to Disdane and end his life. If not, he at least hoped to take as many of the man’s men with him as he could. But Treace decided that he couldn’t do that now. If
he fought, Kiril would rush to join him. He wasn’t going to risk her any more than he had already. He had to give her time to get away. He just hoped she’d take it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t.
His swords were heavy in his hands. He didn’t realize how tired he was until just then. Now that he had stopped moving, he wasn’t sure if he could start again. He realized he didn’t have to.
Treace dropped his swords and fell to his knees. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. He registered blood-stained snow all about him before his eyes shut. A good portion of it was most likely his.
He hoped everyone would mistake his actions for him surrendering. He had no intentions of doing so. He decided to do what he should have done all along. Burn Disdane. The problem was, if he thought he was exhausted before, he was even more tired now. He hoped he could build enough emotion to utilize the magic and have enough time to use it.
He found The Calm easily, more easily and quickly than any time before. He didn’t think about its meaning however, he just focused on his emotions.
He briefly thought about placing a barrier over himself, but dismissed it in a heartbeat knowing he would need all of his energy to use Path of Fire.
Instead of starting with anticipation, he concentrated on his anger, his utter hatred, for Disdane and what he’d done to Liernin, Amana, and Tabor. He thought of Wren and how he hated being bullied by him when they were younger and of what that man had done to Emiah. He molded that anger and hate. He mentally pictured it building up within him, consuming him. He brought it to the very edge of control and pushed in on it, forcing it into a mental compartment.
He was about to focus on anticipation, the magic that fueled his range so that he may burn Disdane, but another emotion tugged at him. One that he had never truly felt while in The Calm before. Surprise. It was near to that of fear, the emotion that fueled a barrier, yet this time it was distinctly separate.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, other than it just felt right, he cast aside anticipation and focused on surprise. Like when Griffeth surprised him on the platform of the wall. How his heart had skipped a beat then! He thought of when his mother had agreed to let him train with Exodin after she had initially told him no. Lastly, he thought of how surprised he was that Kiril loved him; the small, bullied child that never quite fit in. That emotion, that surprise, built within him. He forced it to grow until it, too, became difficult for him to control. He pushed that emotion into its compartment within his mind.
