Banner Lord

by Jason L. McWhirter

Everyone nodded. It would be a difficult mission. But they all knew, just as Lyra did, that their lives depended on its success. They sat quietly, staring into the flickering flames, drinking their mulled wine and mentally preparing themselves for the mission ahead.

  ***

  It was their third night in Elwyn when there was a knock at Jarak’s door. A fire was roaring in the fireplace and he had just taken off his armor. He never went anywhere without it and felt naked and vulnerable when not wearing it. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Serix and I.” It was Jarak.

  Brant went to the entrance and slid the bolt back, opening the solid wood door. Serix and Jarak were standing in the doorway. Neither wore their armor as well, but they both carried their swords. “What is it?”

  “Can we speak for a moment?”

  “Of course, come in,” Brant said as he moved aside to let them enter. Serix shut the door behind them and they both sat down at a small table while Brant sat on the edge of his bed. “What is it?”

  “Brant, can I see the necklace you are wearing?”

  Brant’s hand went to his tunic and felt the stone underneath it. “Why?”

  They were both looking at him, their expressions serious. They seemed worried, even guarded. “Where did you get it?” Jarak asked.

  Brant was becoming irritated at their line of questioning. “What is wrong? Why do you want to see my necklace?”

  They could sense his frustration and Jarak looked at Serix, nodding his head. Serix spoke. “Brant, I think that stone you wear around your neck is a seeking stone. But I need to see it to confirm it.”

  “What? A seeking stone? It can’t be.”

  “Why?” Jarak asked.

  “Ari gave it to me.”

  Jarak sat back in his chair. He almost looked relieved. Brant brought the stone out from under his tunic and lifted it over his head. He handed it to Serix. The Aura Mage inspected the stone briefly and looked at Jarak, the subtle shake of his head a sure sign that it was in fact a seeking stone. “When did Ari give this stone to you?” Serix asked.

  “Prior to us leaving the ruins,” Brant answered, clearly concerned. “He was angry about not being able to come along, but he said it would bring us good luck. He told me it had been given to him by his mother.”

  Jarak let out a long breath of air. “That is how they have been tracking us. I am relieved though.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I thought you had betrayed us.”

  “Why would I do that?” Brant snapped.

  “I don’t know,” Jarak said. “Why would Ari betray us? Which he clearly has. I’m just glad it wasn’t you.”

  “There must be a reason why he did this,” Brant said, hoping there was some explanation.

  “Brant,” Serix explained, “a stone like this can only be made by a skilled mage. The stones themselves are very expensive. “My guess is that Ari had been in possession of this stone for quite some time, and that as a servant to Kulvar Rand he was able to supply valuable information to the enemy.”

  “But why?” Brant asked again, unable to come to terms with the idea that the young boy had betrayed them.

  “I don’t know. But we will find out when we see him again,” Jarak said.

  “I need to take this stone and destroy it,” Serix said.

  Brant nodded in agreement as the two stood and headed for the door. “What will you do to him?” Brant asked, looking up as they opened the door.

  Jarak held the door open and looked back at Brant. His expression was more sad than angry. “I don’t know.” Then he shut the door behind him.

  Brant lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his turbulent thoughts keeping any hope of sleep at bay. The fire had burned low, the gentle flames and red embers casting flickering shadows across the room. A soft knock came to his door. Now what, he thought, as he got out of bed. He was wearing only his leggings but the temperature in the small room was comfortable, the heat from the fire adequate enough.

  “Who is it?” he whispered through the door.

  “It is I, Tearial. Would you mind opening the door? It is very cold out here.”

  Brant had a feeling this might happen, and in fact had expected it the night before. It was pretty clear to Brant, based on Tearial’s reaction to him, and the comments made by King Elwyn, that they had an interesting relationship to say the least. Nonetheless, the idea of bedding the king’s wife filled him with conflicting emotions. She was extremely attractive, and exuded a sultry seductiveness that he had yet to experience. But she was also the queen, and despite the king’s implicit approval, to him it just seemed wrong. But he found himself opening the door anyway.

  She stepped in quickly and shut the door behind her, sliding the bolt in place. She wore a sheer silk gown which floated around her naked body in a sensual dance. Her long ebony hair was loose, draping her strong shoulders and hanging to the middle of her back. “I was hoping we could resume our workout,” she said, her eyes gliding over his muscular torso like a lover's hands over warm flesh.

  Brant was not experienced with women. In fact he had yet to lie with one. It was not that the process hadn’t crossed his mind; it was just that the opportunity had never really presented itself. At least not like it was now. “It would not be right. You are the queen and I am his guest.”

  She waved his resistance away. “We have an arrangement. Physical intimacy for our people, is not the same as it is for yours. It is not something to hide, or to experience with only one person. It is something to share, to experience, like a fine bottle of wine.” She stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest. “And you look thirsty,” she whispered. He breathed in her fragrance, subtle, yet familiar, like jasmine or cherry blossoms. Moving closer, she brought her other hand to his chest. He could feel her breath on his neck as she looked up at him. “I would like to feel your flesh against mine. I need to feel your strength.” She leaned in and kissed the nape of his neck, gently brushing her lips over his collarbone, her tongue softly stroking his neck.

  Brant felt himself begin to lose control, a sudden powerful rush of desire rising up through his body and into his extremities. He reached his strong arms around her and pulled her tightly against him as his mouth found hers.

  He had never before felt such physical arousal. Time seemed to stand still and he had no idea how long he had kissed her. When she pulled away from him it felt as if a part of him had been ripped away, his desire to reach for her nearly overwhelming. She slipped from her gown and they came together again, their flesh joined in a warm caress. He turned her around and they fell to the bed, their bodies entwined as their mouths savored one another. His senses were filled with her sweet musky fragrance, her soft moans of pleasure, and the gentle trembling of her body. His previous thoughts of Ari vanished. Nothing else existed, only this woman, this passion, this pleasure. He did not want this feeling to end, and in fact it lasted long into the night.

  ***

  Tearial woke late into the night. Turning over she faced Brant, feeling the heat from his body she sighed with pleasure, remembering their evening. She judged the time to be about halfway through the night and didn’t want to fall asleep again, potentially waking up with the sun in Brant’s room. The Marastians had a saying…fall asleep with those who bring you bliss, but wake with those who bring you joy. And despite the tacit acceptance of such liaisons outside of a marriage, it was still frowned upon to flaunt it. So she slipped from bed and donned her light gown, moving towards the door. She looked back at him and smiled, sliding the bolt back and opening the door. Her mind was so preoccupied recalling the pleasant memories of their night, that she barely registered the female Saricon five paces in front of her who was leaning against Jarak’s door, her hands placed on either side and her forehead pressed against the wood. Beyond her, standing in the shadows of the hallway and before the door of the anteroom, was another man, a long sword held casually in his right hand.

  She heard something behind her and
spun quickly around. There was another Saricon in the same position, resting her head against the mage's door ten paces down the hall. But that was not what she had heard. Fifteen paces further was someone running at her, the glint of steel in the shadows of the hall flashing towards her.

  “Brant!” she screamed, just as the assassin was on her. The hallway was dark, illuminated by only a handful of oil lanterns to allow the guests to make their way to the latrine located at the far end of the hall. All she saw coming at her was a flash of silver followed by a man in a hooded cloak, wisps of red hair fluttering around his shadowed face. She jumped back and snapped her foot forward, catching the attacker in the stomach, the tip of his spear narrowly missing her face. With perfect balance she shot back at him like a loaded spring, the tip of her fingers snapping forward and striking the warrior in the throat just as he was backing away.

  The groan that escaped his mouth from the blow to his abdomen quickly turned into a gagging sound as her fingers crushed his throat. Lonas was a skilled fighter, but he had not expected such an attack from a small woman in a sheer nightgown. He underestimated her, and it cost him his life.

  As he fell backwards, choking to death, Tearial ripped his spear from his hands, then turned quickly to engage the second warrior who had run from the far end of the hall. So far, the Saricons had not moved from the door. It looked as if they were asleep against it. She ran at the man and as they came together she knew she was in trouble. He was a Merger and his silver sword sought her flesh with incredible speed. The close confines of the hallway limited their movements. Their weapons came together several times before Kedrick’s Kul-brite blade, one that he had taken from the Dygon Guards, finally cut her spear in two, his follow up swing catching her hip and slicing across her stomach. She had attempted to avoid the blade by pivoting backwards, and normally she would have been successful, but the man was too fast. Luckily however, it was just the tip of the blade that had connected, cutting a relatively shallow slash across her stomach. It was a bad cut but not life threatening.

  She stumbled backwards just as Brant burst through the door, completely naked but carrying his sword. When he saw Tearial fall he immediately Fused, blue fire erupting from his sword as he pushed energy into his legs, leaping forward to block the attack that was aimed for her head. Sparks erupted from the two Kul-brite blades clashing together as Brant and Kedrick fought furiously in the hallway.

  Tearial got to her feet, her gown drenched with the blood that ran down her legs in crimson rivulets. Brant had pushed Kedrick further down the hallway and all she could see was his fiery sword flashing furiously as their swords connected in a whirlwind of strikes and counters.

  And still leaning against Jarak’s door was the Saricon, appearing as if she were in a trance. Tearial had no idea what she was doing but knew it couldn’t be good. So she ran forward with one end of the spear and rammed the tip into the side of her neck.

  Moving for the first time, the Saricon female screamed and jerked away from the door, blood boiling from the wound on her neck. Just then one of the doors down the hall burst open and Aldgar rushed out followed by Kivalla. The big Saricon was wearing only his leggings but had his Kul-brite blade in hand. He took in the scene quickly and went for the other Soother who was still pressed against Serix and Endler’s door. His sword came down hard across her arm, nearly cutting it off. She howled in pain and jumped away from the door. Despite the gruesome wound, she turned her menacing eyes on Aldgar and Kivalla, and redirected her emotions towards them. But she did not try to sooth them to sleep. She pushed a massive amount of fright at them, focusing the intense emotion down the narrow hall.

  Aldgar was moving forward quickly for the kill when he was overcome by a sudden terror, a fear so strong that the initial push sent him back a full pace. His entire body shook and he was forced to lower his sword, the mirror-like steel trembling in his grip. Kivalla felt it too, although the brunt of it had hit the Saricon. His body shook as well, and all he wanted to do was run, to get as far away from the female Saricon as possible.

  Jor’see growled and projected more fright towards them, pushing them further down the hall. She was hoping to get to the empty room and escape, but the wound on her arm was proving too much. Blood was gushing from it in rhythmic pulses and her arm hung awkwardly. The power of Aldgar’s strike had cut all the way to the bone below her shoulder, breaking it in the process. She was getting light headed as her blood drenched the red stone at her feet. As her power began to falter, Kivalla and Aldgar stopped their backward movement, the intense fear lessening.

  Just then the guest room door behind them burst open and Orin and Ardra moved quickly into the hall, their bows at the ready. The shot would be difficult with Aldgar and Kivalla filling the hall before them. But they managed to see between them enough to catch glimpses of the female Saricon slowly pushing them back with the invisible fear she thrust forward.

  “Down!” Orin yelled at Aldgar and Kivalla. But they couldn't hear them through the fear that still gripped them. Orin glanced at his sister. “Take the shot!” he yelled as he ran forward and dove into the back of Aldgar’s knees. They both crumbled to the ground falling in a heap of twisted limbs. But Orin’s tactic had worked and as soon as she had her shot she let her arrow fly, followed quickly by another. The first arrow struck Jor’see in the neck, snapping her head back. The second arrow hit her directly in the mouth, silencing her cry. She was dead instantly, the fear emanating from her vanishing just as quickly.

  Lyra was standing outside the balcony door when she heard the first commotion of combat. Swearing under her breath she reached for the handle, opening the door quickly, but as silently as she could. She was worried that they might have locked the door. Luckily, her worry was unfounded. Silently she slipped into the room and drew one of the long knives at her side. As the battle outside intensified she quickly moved towards the bed. The bed was directly in front of her and the fire had burned down to glowing embers in the hearth, shedding a minimal amount of light throughout the room. Jarak and Cat were comfortably sleeping beneath the blankets, her arm draped over his body as she nestled up close to him. They were very much asleep, seemingly oblivious to the fighting just outside their door. The Soothers must still be alive and doing their job.

  Cursing at the commotion outside, she moved like a wraith, her knife poised above Jarak’s body. Then someone screamed just beyond the door and instantly Jarak’s eyes snapped open. As she brought the knife down, Jarak responded out of instinct, finally free of the Soother’s power, raising his arms before him to block the attack. Her knife struck his forearm, impaling it cleanly, barely missing the bone and burying itself to the hilt.

  Jarak howled in pain and kicked out at the attacker, jerking his body to the side. The movement tore the knife from Lyra’s grip, ripping through his flesh and sending waves of intense pain stabbing through his arm. Jarak’s foot struck her in the side and sent her sprawling backwards where she struck the wall near the balcony window. Lyra drew her other knife and launched herself from the wall at Jarak again. Jarak had turned his body in the bed so that his feet were facing his assailant, so when she came at him again he kicked both of his legs out in desperation. Lyra swung her knife, cutting his feet badly, but it did little to stop his momentum. Both feet struck her knife arm and launched her back into the wall a second time.

  When Lyra had attacked, Cat, out of survival instinct, had scrambled off the bed in the other direction. But when she saw the hooded figure attack Jarak, and heard him scream, she quickly changed direction and ran for her sword hanging against the wall, ripping it from its scabbard. Without stopping, she flung herself towards the bed and placed her right foot on the corner of the frame, and using it as leverage she launched her body through the air towards the attacker, just as Jarak had kicked her against the wall for the second time.

  And as Lyra again slammed against the wall, her last knife kicked away and her arm sprained, she regained her senses and looked up
to prepare a quick spell. But the thought was cut short as a form flew over the bed towards her, a silver blade held before her like a spear. She had no time to react and the Kul-brite sword pierced her chest, the power of the blow slamming her back into the wall for a third time. The tip of the blade erupted from her back and drove itself into the stone wall. She hung there limply as the last of her breath hissed from her bleeding mouth.

  Meanwhile, Brant had pushed the swordsman further down the hall, their blades continuing to clash together in a flurry of sparks. His opponent was very skilled and had so far managed to block his attacks. It appeared he even had knowledge of the Kilting Way, his technique obvious as his powerful wrists were able to keep Brant’s fiery blade from cutting into his flesh. But he had not fought in the Schulg pit for two years, nor could he match Brant’s strength, despite his similar training. So Brant gave him an opening that he knew he couldn’t resist. He exposed his mid-section for just a brief moment and Kedrick lunged forward, hoping to skewer him in the process. But Brant did something that the swordsman did not expect. Stepping towards him, he dropped his sword and elbowed him in the stomach, while his free hands grabbed Kedrick’s sword arm with an iron grip. Moving with all the strength and speed that his merging ability provided, Brant jerked Kedrick’s arm up and over his head as he pivoted on his right foot. His steel grip had already caused the swordsman to drop his blade, and the elbow to the stomach had forced him forward, now off balance. That was when Brant jerked his arm down hard, one hand holding Kedrick’s hand in a twisted grip, while his other hand came down hard on his elbow. An audible pop sounded as Brant dislocated Kedrick’s arm, followed by the loud crack of his elbow joint as it was brutally fractured. Kedrick’s agonizing scream was cut short as Brant followed up with a vicious elbow to the nose, snapping his head back violently. Kedrick stumbled backward blindly, barely conscious. The last thing he glimpsed through his blurred eyesight was a flash of blue fire before him…then he felt nothing.