Banner Lord
Page 36
He held his weapon in the two handed style, wanting to take full advantage of the Kilting Way’s tactics, something he doubted the Tongra had yet faced. Snapping his sword forward, he stopped the axe in mid swing, then, crouching low, he used his powerful wrists again to thrust his Kul-brite blade out, knocking the axe back a full foot. Both strikes happened so quickly and with such force, that anyone watching would barely have seen them.
It was then that Brant Fuzed. His sword flared brightly as blue flames flared out from it, his body surging forward as more energy flooded into his legs. His blade swept down so quickly that Kahn Taruk’s eyes barely had time to widen in astonishment as he jerked his leg back to avoid the attack. But he wasn’t quite fast enough, and the tip of Brant’s blade cut a gash across his thigh, releasing a streak of blood that stained his leggings.
But Brant didn’t stop. He reversed the direction of his sword as the Tongra tried to redirect his axe that had been thrust backwards by Brant’s initial attack. Using his powerful legs and pushing up, Brant brought his sword upward towards the Tongra’s torso. The Tongra jumped back, barely positioning his axe to block the attack.
But Brant’s flaming Kul-brite sword cut into the steel of the axe, and Brant kept moving. Using the incredible strength of his wrists, he spun his sword down and away, knocking the Saricon’s axe to the side and causing him to stumble. Without stopping, Brant ripped his blade across the neck of the Tongra, releasing a spray of blood. The Tongra’s axe dropped low as the force of the attack spun his body towards Brant. Brant’s sword then thrust up, then down, slicing the Tongra through flesh and bone, from his shoulder all the way to his hip.
His axe fell to the ground as his body went limp, his blood spilling out and mixing with the blood of all those who had fallen before him. Then he fell lifeless to the ground.
The entire fight had lasted no longer than five heartbeats.
Epilogue
Brant stood upon the wall looking out over the expansive battlefield. It was near dark and the horizon glowed softly in hues of pinks and red, its peaceful beauty in sharp contrast to the bloody battlefield before him.
After he had killed the Saricon leader, the Tongra’s men, all but the one guard who had been chosen to deliver the contract, attacked, as they had expected. They were forced to kill them all as the fighting continued outside. The Saricons fought to the last man, exacting a massive death toll amongst their enemy. The churned up snow was now littered with thousands of bodies, their blood drenching the snow covered ground.
Orin had not survived his wound, his grief for his sister suffocating any fighting spirit he had. He had died minutes after Brant had killed the Tongra. Brant thought about Ardra’s sacrifice, knowing that what she did was the main reason for their success. If she had not sacrificed herself, thereby killing most of the Saricons and destroying the gate, they may not have won. So many had died, but he was thankful for those who had survived. No matter how high the death toll had been, he knew it could have been even worse. Thankfully Jarak and Cat had survived. And although Cat had suffered a serious cut on her thigh, it would heal. Serix and Endler had survived as well, which was fortunate as Jarak was going to need their council in the months to come. Aldgar and Uln suffered several wounds, but neither showed it. Uln had left immediately to see to his men that were wounded, and to give what comfort he could to those who lost their comrades. Of the two thousand Varga he had brought with him, over seven hundred had died.
Tearial and King Elwyn had also lived, but they had lost nearly half of their army. And of the Dy’ainians that fought, only fifteen hundred remained.
Brant was sickened by the sheer magnitude of the death around him, but he forced himself to continue staring at the battlefield. He felt that if he looked away, that he would be ignoring their sacrifice. There was even a part of him that wanted to walk amongst the dead and see their faces, to acknowledge them for giving their lives to regain their kingdom’s freedom.
“This was once such a beautiful view.”
Brant turned to see Jarak join him at the wall. Brant sighed. “It will be again someday.”
“Brant, how were you able to defeat the Tongra so quickly? I have never seen anything like it.”
Brant took his eyes off the battlefield and looked at Jarak. “I have, and I asked Kulvar Rand that very same question. I saw him kill a man, a man I thought unbeatable, with three sword strokes.”
“What did he say?”
Brant thought back to that moment in time. “He said that the man was not prepared for what he faced. He said he was so confident in his ability that he was not ready to die. I remember thinking about his words many times,” Brant added as he looked up at the sunset. “For a man like that, a man so utterly confident in his ability, one glimpse of doubt is like a small hole in a dam, which quickly widens, causing the dam to break. I showed the Tongra that doubt, and it killed him.”
Jarak thought about his words as he watched the sun sink lower on the horizon. Then he spoke. “I was hoping you would stay here with me. I need a man like you. The Dygon Guard needs to be rebuilt. What say you?”
“I am no lord.”
Jarak shrugged. “It matters not. I make the rules and I think there are many things that I will be changing. I imagine there are others like you out there, running and hiding, afraid to show their powers. Why alienate them? Why make them enemies when they could be utilized for the good of our kingdom? I will change things, Brant, and I want you to be a part of it.”
Brant looked back at Jarak. “Thank you for your offer, my friend. But I am tired of the fighting. I want to take care of Jana and Tobias.”
Jarak looked disappointed at first, but then he smiled. “If you add a farm in Bygon and a beautiful woman in Amorsit to your vision, then I think you would have a perfect home and the perfect family.”
It was Brant’s turn to smile. He gazed back up at the sky. “I have never had a family.”
Jarak reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I owe you much, Brant. There will always be a place here if you change your mind.”
Brant nodded. “Thank you.”
“If anyone deserves a family, it is you. I wish you luck,” he added, squeezing his shoulder one more time before departing, leaving Brant to his thoughts.
A family, he thought. Could I really do it, he mused, continuing to watch the sunset as it turned darker, the pinks becoming purple streaked with orange. There was only one way to know, he thought, his mind drifting to images of Kaan’s cabin…of Tobias and Jana growing up there, and the sounds of Thea’s laughter, her warm smile bringing a sense of peace to Brant’s troubled soul. It was a vision worthy of the effort. And he vowed to see it come to fruition.
The End
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The Life of Ely is Jason L. McWhirter’s first non-fantasy book. Eighteen years in the classroom as a teacher and coach has given him a unique perspective on the trials and tribulations that some students experience as they attempt to survive their adolescence. This story, although fiction, is inspired by these experiences.
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