The Shadow of War

by Bryan Gifford

  Silas leaned over the battlement. “You would have had Cain killed for your country!”

  Moran raised his hands. “I know now that I was wrong. The Acedens will never negotiate. They will not stop until they conquer Tarsha. I have paid for my folly with my country.”

  Isroc glanced over his shoulder to his own army, Inveirans scattered throughout their ranks. Their last hope to reclaim their country had failed. It pained him to see that look in their eyes; the same sorrow that was no doubt in his own when he thought on the fate of his own country.

  “Give us a reason to trust you,” Isroc said, turning back to Moran.

  The general reached into a satchel at his side. He raised a crown of silver and tossed it into the snow before the fortress. The afternoon sun flickered in its pearls.

  “I have killed the traitor king.”

  Isroc exchanged glances with Cain. Cain stared down at the crown for a moment, then cried, “Open the gate!”

  Murken shuffled forward. “I will do no such thing! I am in command here, and I say those Inveiran dogs stay right where they are. We don’t have room for them, or food, or—”

  Someone either didn’t hear Murken’s objections or didn’t care, for the doors opened wide with a crack of wood and ice. The meager remains of the Inveiran army rode inside to be greeted by their fellow countrymen.

  Moran lumbered up beside the Warriors as they descended into the mass of soldiers. He wore the striking armor of the slain king Barend, its brilliant ivory plates shimmering against the surrounding snow. “It’s a pleasure to see familiar faces that aren’t trying to kill me.” He paused and looked to each of them, frowning. “There were five of you last I remember.”

  Cain bowed his head. “Aren is dead.”

  Moran dipped his hairy head. “He has found his peace then. We are the ones that are damned.”

  “How did you find us, Moran?” Isroc asked.

  “Please,” Moran grunted. “I am a general of Inveira, I wouldn’t be doing my patriotic duty if I didn’t know everything about Erias.” He turned to Isroc with a smirk.

  Isroc opened his mouth but Cain raised a hand to silence him. “So, you knew that Seraphel was a fallback if Morven fell?”

  “Yes.” His voice drew uncharacteristically quiet. “The Acedens know this too. My scouts spotted an enemy force moving south towards here. We barely managed to slip past them, but they are on our heels, I’m sure.”

  “How many were there?”

  Moran shook his hairy head. “We couldn’t get a good count; fifty perhaps. But my scouts reported that they didn’t look like any Acedens they’d seen.” He turned to Mithaniel with a frown. “Like him, apparently.”

  The group turned to the Knight. Mithaniel returned the general’s stare. “Iscara.”

  “I knew we should have left this place,” Isroc cursed. “Now the Iscara are coming!”

  “We are in a defensible position.,” Mithaniel replied. “It is best to remain—”

  Silas stomped forward. “Don’t start that shit! You’re just saying that because you want easy pickings for your mates!”

  Cain jumped between them. “Silas! Damn it, knock it off!”

  “You’re defending him now? You watch your back around that Iscara, Cain.”

  Moran picked at the pommel of his arming sword until the yelling subsided. “Are you really proposing we stay here? Look around. Your barracks are falling apart. Your men are walking skeletons. Where is your sense? This is no place to stay.”

  “We have no alternative. Crossing Erias is suicide, even with your added numbers, Moran. We don’t have the supplies for an extended march, and tens of thousands of Acedens are spread across the country by now.”

  “What do you propose then?”

  “We bolster our defenses here. We send the Iscara off to lick their wounds, take their provisions, and then perhaps see to Isroc’s West Riders in Braygon.”

  “Perhaps?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far, alright?”

  Moran shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sounds like it could work.”

  Isroc grunted. “We don’t have the numbers to even have a chance against the Iscara, let alone fifty of them. These walls might as well be made of toothpicks for all the good it will do against them. We should go to Braygon, gather my West Riders, and use their strength to push the Acedens out of Erias.”

  The Inveiran general stroked his beard in thought. “I came here to kill Acedens. If I die at the hands of Iscara, then my killing days are done.”

  “We are staying,” Cain answered.

  Isroc stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Then we are leaving.”

  Something flickered in his friend’s dark eyes. Was it regret? Sadness? Either way, it was gone as quickly as Isroc had seen it. “I know,” Cain said.

  Isroc blinked. He’d expected a heated response, not the timid acceptance he’d just heard. “Why do you want to stay here so badly?”

  Cain sighed, his eyes growing sad again. “There is something I must do. This is the only way.”

  Isroc grunted. Sometimes his friend was so melodramatic. He wanted to press him, but something told him he wouldn’t get anything more than another vague response. “Fine. Do what you want. But we’re taking the Alliance with us.” He clenched his fists. “We must fight. Not cower behind walls.”

  “I am trying to keep us alive.”

  “At what cost, Cain? Erias is dying around us! The enemy marches like a plague across my country, burning and butchering everything they touch. And we both know they’re not just in Erias and Inveira. This is a war our entire world must fight, and I will not hide away on some damned mountaintop!”

  “Then go,” Cain said. “Go and save your West Riders, go and save your country. But I will stay and secure Tarsha’s future.”

  Isroc shook his head. “There will be no Tarsha when Iscarius is done with it.” He turned and left the group, Moran following behind. Silas frowned at Cain before joining them. Adriel bowed her head and left Cain. Their soldiers flowed past Cain and dispersed through the fortress, leaving Cain alone in the courtyard.

  The moon lay in its bed of clouds, its full white face illuminating the heavens. The light glowed against the snow-capped mountains, skimming across every tree and stream.

  A cold wind brushed across Cain’s face. He found himself out here every night now. The serenity of the mountains, the quiet of the night, helped to calm his thoughts.

  He’d spent a long time lost, driven by revenge for the death of his wife, Eileen. He’d been lost, angry, confused. It had taken him more loss to see that vengeance was not a reason to fight. It had kept him standing, but it hadn’t given him true purpose.

  Now, he truly felt his purpose. He would protect Tarsha from Iscarius. He’d keep people from dying. But that meant doing something brazen, something that would finally end four hundred years of suffering. How could he possibly tell his friends what he planned to do? They would never stand by and let him do what needed to be done. He needed to finish what he’d started.

  The crunch of snow stirred him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Adriel approach.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Cain turned from her. This would be the hardest part of his plan.

  “Cain, what’s wrong with you? You’ve been distant since Morven. What’s really going on?” He kept his gaze fixed ahead, he knew he’d break down if he looked at her.

  Adriel frowned at him. “I don’t blame Isroc for wanting to leave.”

  “That is his choice.”

  “He’s your friend! If you don’t want to talk to me anymore, then that’s fine, but at least tell me what you expect to accomplish here. The men who choose to stay behind are risking their lives for you, or do you not care? I know you know this place is no good!” Cain said nothing. “What’s wrong? Tell me, damn it!”

  Cain looked up at the moon and wiped a tear from his eye. Don’t give in.

  Adriel stepped cl
oser, fists at her sides. “The people we swore to protect are wondering where we are while we hide up here on this mountain. They are the ones fighting. They are the ones dying. We owe it to them to protect them, Cain. What do you expect to accomplish here?”

  How could he possibly explain it to her? “I’m here for redemption.” He waved an arm to the barracks. “I want to earn back their trust, for them to believe in me again. You don’t know what it’s like to have the world think you’re some kind of hero, only for them to find out you were nothing at all. They thought… no, they knew that I was going to kill Abaddon and save them from destruction. Then Abaddon died and the beast died and Ceerocai became useless, and everything people once saw in me became a lie. They see me as a failure. They look at me with contempt and mistrust, only fighting at my side out of fear and desperation. I want them to believe in something again. To have hope.

  “I will fight here. I will break the enemy, and I will show the Alliance that we can fight back, that we are not beaten.” He paused, wanting to say more. He wanted to spill his heart out, to tell her how he felt, and of the fate he knew he would one day have to face. But how could he do that when his words would only hurt her?

  “Oh, Cain.” She stepped closer and took Cain’s hand. “You know we can’t stay here.”

  “I must do this, Adriel,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  Adriel watched him for a moment. “I know.”

  “You’re leaving…”

  “Yes. With Isroc and the others.” She looked out over the moonlit skies. “I don’t know when, but we’ll be back for you.”

  Their eyes locked in the night. He shouldn’t have looked. How could he leave this woman? How could he peer into those eyes and still break her heart? His own heart leapt at the sight of her and dashed itself against the rocks. Was he strong enough to see her tears and still do what had to be done?

  “Cain, I love you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “But you are a fool.”

  With that, Adriel turned and disappeared into the shadows.

  Destruction

  Adriel looked up to the blue skies, clear of clouds and bright with the noonday sun. Sunlight broke the treetops and washed over her with a faint warmth. It was warm for an early winter day, so why did she feel so cold?

  She loved the man. She hadn’t realized it at first, but it had grown inside of her like a spring blossom. She’d spent so many years in the cold frost of despair and loneliness that she’d forgotten what it felt like to love.

  She thought that telling Cain how she felt about him would be what he needed to fight off whatever gripped him so. She’d been wrong. For a moment she thought he would say it back. His lips quivered, his eyes wet with tears. But he didn’t. Instead, he refused to meet her gaze and coldly drove her away. She thought he’d loved her too… could she have been so wrong?

  Cain hadn’t been the same since he’d stepped out of that ship’s hold so many weeks ago. He’d grown even more distant, prone to staring off into nothingness. His eyes were darker, his smiles empty. What dismal thoughts and twisted dreams had he endured in his weeks of seclusion?

  He’d been so broken, weighed down by his loss. For a brief time traveling with him in Inveira, she thought she had seen a glimpse of the real Cain. He’d found purpose again. He’d been driven, determined to help and protect others. His laughter had been warm, his smiles genuine. Now, that man was gone again.

  Adriel refused to accept that. Yes, he’d changed in some ways—now somehow even more morose than she thought possible—but he was still the same broken, frightened person he’d always been. He had always needed his friends, counted on their love and support. To so quickly turn on them, on her, was grossly out of character. It seemed as if he had purposefully shut himself off, steeled himself against their outcries, and turned his back on them.

  Had Cain genuinely believed in his plan to hold Seraphel, so much so that he was willing to lose his friends? Or had it only been a part in a much grander plan?

  Adriel glared at nothing, lips pursed. If Cain had really intended on driving her away, then so help him…

  “Adriel!” Isroc’s voice boomed from behind.

  She jumped. Hundreds of Alliance soldiers walked around her, flashing her mixed glances of amusement and annoyance. Apparently, she’d been staring into nothingness. That was frustrating; Cain was supposed to be the spacey one.

  Isroc crooked his head at her. “What are you doing?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Isroc sighed. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

  Adriel nodded.

  “I know this must be hard for you. I didn’t want to leave him either. But he’s made up his mind, and you know as well as I do that there’s no use arguing with him. We’ve got to keep fighting, with or without him.”

  “I just can’t shake the feeling that Cain needs us, and we’re abandoning him.”

  “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

  Adriel followed him through the hills for a time. “How do you handle it?” she eventually asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “How do you handle death? Your daughter’s. Your wife’s.”

  Isroc cast her a sharp glance. “I never said anything about my wife.”

  “Which leads me to bel—”

  “Alright, that’s enough.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Isroc scratched at his beard. “She left me. I was never very good at expressing my emotions, and that translated into being a shitty husband. She found someone else to treat her better.”

  Adriel frowned. She briefly wondered why men had trouble just saying what was on their heart. Of course, she wasn’t very good at that herself. “I’m sorry,” she said lamely.

  They walked in silence for a while. “I don’t handle it, Adriel.”

  “Oh…”

  “Death… I don’t think anyone ever really heals from the loss of a loved one. You just kind of learn to cope.” Isroc nodded, eyes growing distant. “I think Cain hasn’t figured that out yet.”

  Mithaniel stuffed the last of the wine skins into a crate. He set the crate with the others and moved on to a basket of tack bread. Even after collecting every man’s provisions, they were still pathetically low on food. They could melt snow; water wasn’t an issue. But lack of food was quickly becoming a problem. One thousand men remained in Seraphel, and they didn’t have enough provisions to last a week.

  Should he try and risk throwing some of this food away to hasten their demise, or should he just kill Cain and take Ceerocai? He needed to wait for the other Iscara, but where were they? Why didn’t he just act now?

  What was holding him back?

  Mithaniel turned to Cain. “Why do you still bear Ceerocai?”

  Cain paused, setting down a rucksack. “I often ask myself the same question.”

  “After all that you’ve been through, after all the deaths, the fall of Morven and your Alliance, you still carry it. Why?”

  “Because after so much bad, maybe I can still do some good.”

  This man really believed that he could still win the war. How could he be so hopeful, this close to his inevitable destruction? “Iscarius wages this war for Ceerocai. Countless have died and many more will continue to do so because of that sword on your back. What possible good can come from it?”

  “I don’t know. I thought that after Malecai killed the beast in Inveira that the sword was useless. But then…” he blinked, no doubt envisioning the terrors he’d sowed at Ekran. “Well, it still has great power. I can’t feel it inside anymore, but I know it’s still in the sword somewhere. Malecai wants its power for himself. If I can use it as bait or use it against him, kill him, then this war will be over. Only then can we have peace.”

  “Are you so sure?”

  Cain raised a brow. “What are you saying?”

  A horn note cut his words short. The two exchanged glances.

  Soldiers erupted from every building
, throwing on weapons and armor as they filed into hasty formations. Mithaniel and Cain weaved through the crowd and ascended the stairs to the wall walk.

  A black hand stretched across the peak. The Iscara.

  The setting sun sank low over the distant mountains, casting sharp orange rays over the dozens of Iscara. Their black armor glinted in the dying light.

  “We’re doomed!” someone shouted from behind.

  “We should have left when we had the chance!” another cried. The Alliance soldiers began shouting, some raising fists toward Cain and Mithaniel.

  Cain turned his back on the approaching Iscara and looked over his sad excuse for an army. He whipped Ceerocai from its baldric, its red veins catching the sunlight. “We will not give in, men! Are you going to give up and die here today, or are you going to fight with me? This is not your end. Not yet!”

  Kaelin stepped forward and raised his war hammer. “You heard the man. Fight! Fight or die with your tails between your legs!” Several soldiers drew their swords. “We stayed behind with Cain to show these bastards what we’re made of. We’re not going to grovel! We’re not going to beg for mercy!” More soldiers freed their weapons, a cry on their lips.

  Cain scanned the crowds below him. “Yes, we face death, I will not deny it. But we also face life. We have a chance to win peace, and I am willing to spill all my blood for it! Are you?”

  Every soldier thrust his weapon overhead and gave a thunderous battle cry.

  Mithaniel gazed out over the group of Iscara. Why were they moving into a battle line? A man stepped from the formation.

  Mithaniel’s stomach sank.

  This was not who he’d been hoping for.

  Two weeks of marching and the Alliance had yet to see any signs of enemy movement. It was almost as if the Acedens had abandoned Erias in her deathbed. The villages and towns they passed were eerily empty. What had happened to all the people?

  A frigid wind beat down Isroc’s back. Was this like Inveira? Were the people being captured and used for slave labor? Where were they being sent? And where were all the Acedens, their patrols, their supply caravans? In the vast, silent wilderness, Isroc felt strangely alone.