Echo of the High Kings (The Eoriel Saga Book 1)

by Kal Spriggs

  Now swear it on your loyalty to the woman.

  Aerion felt his heart freeze. Could he do such a thing? Yet as he thought about it, it seemed such a simple choice. Katarina had already sworn herself to that cause. If nothing else, he would be united to her in goals. “I swear to you on my loyalty to Lady Katarina, to guard your treasure, to serve the High Kingdom, and to fulfill your oaths.”

  So fierce... and so young, the spirit said. You will need that fire, young warrior, for all the powers of darkness will oppose you. May you succeed where we failed.

  The darkness vanished and Aerion's step backwards became a stumble.

  He saw the three Norics in front of him still. Confusion marked their faces as the wall behind him vanished. Aerion reached back and caught himself on an altar of some kind. His blood-slick hands scrabbled for a hold as the Norics advanced.

  Behind the Norics, he saw the low form of the demon, its blood-stained maw drawn back in a snarl. Its squat form blocked the flickering torchlight from the hallway. It's red eyes seemed to glow with a fire of their own.

  Aerion's right hand caught on the rounded corner of the altar, even as his left found the hilt of a sword. He felt a tingle of energy pulse up his arm. His hand closed on the hilt. A hum filled the air for a moment, like someone struck a bell.

  The room exploded with light.

  The three Norics cringed back from the dazzling light. Aerion swung the sword at the nearest one. The blade seemed light in his hands, far lighter than it's long hilt had suggested.

  His wild swing caught the closest Noric in the throat.

  Aerion hacked at the next in a short, chopping motion that took off the Noric's hand at the wrist. The third Noric had stepped back and raised his spear, as if to throw it, but Aerion thrust and caught him in the chest

  He swung back to the Noric whose hand he had chopped off. That one jabbed with a dagger with his off hand and Aerion felt the blade glance off his scale mail, even as he thrust his sword into his enemy's belly.

  Aerion turned then to face the squat demon, which still waited in the doorway.

  He raised his sword and saw the demon draw back with a hiss.

  Aerion realized that the blade he held cast the bright light that filled the chamber. With a shock, he saw that it ended in a sharp point where its upper half had broken off just over two and a half feet past the crossguard.

  The demon squatted low and then leaped at Aerion. He dodged to the side and heard sharp claws hiss past his head by mere inches. He swung at it as it passed and felt hot ichor spray the side of his face.

  Aerion spun, to face the demon. It hissed at him again and Aerion saw he had only managed to catch it a glancing blow. He started to back towards the doorway when he saw the demon tense again, ready to leap.

  Just then a bolt of energy whipped past him to strike the demon in the head. The demon dropped to the ground, a smoking hole blasted through its armored skull. “Nice toy, it makes it easier to shoot them when I can see them,” his mother said from behind him.

  Aerion gave a sigh of relief at the sight of her, “You're alright!”

  “Nothing hurt but my ego. There's more Norics to fight, though. Let's move.”

  Aerion stepped into the hallway and the light of his sword showed fewer Norics, and more of his companions who fought them. Aerion charged forward at the nearest cluster of fighting where he saw Aramer surrounded by three Norics. His first strike took a Noric in the back and an arrow swept past him to strike a group of Norics that had just come down the stairs.

  The detonation killed most of them and made Aerion's head ring. He hacked down at one of the stunned Norics and pulled another backwards to slam against the wall. A thrust from Arren finished the dazed Noric. “To the doors!” Aramer shouted.

  Aerion bulled past him and raced up the blood-stained stairs. He pushed into the council chamber and stumbled over a body at the top of the stairs. He heard a sword swipe over his head as he tumbled forward. Aerion managed to roll on his shoulder, and then come to his feet.

  An armored man, his face drawn back in fear and hate turned to face him. The man went down with a scream as Aramer's sword thrust took him from behind. Aerion turned back to the doorway and saw three more men, these in Hector's colors, charge into the room.

  Aerion stepped to put the stone table between him and them. One of them leaped up onto the table, but Aerion's height and reach allowed him to thrust and catch the man in the chest as he was off balance. The glowing sword thrust through his chain mail as if it were tissue paper and punched a hole in the man's chest.

  Aerion saw more of the armored men in the hallway. As Aramer came up next to him, he heard shouts from the stairs below and then a bellow as Bulmor rushed up out of the stairwell. The Armsman had a patina of blood across his face.

  “Down!” Aerion's mother shouted from the stairwell.

  Aerion ducked and three arrows went past overhead. All three exploded amongst the close packed mercenaries in the corridor and screams of agony echoed up almost immediately.

  “For the Duchy of Masov, for Lady Katarina!” Bulmor roared. The stocky armsman leaped over the tall stone table with a single bound. Aerion saw him catch the nearest of the mercenaries in the face with the edge of his shield and strike the head from the shoulders of the next man. With another bellow, Bulmor led the way into the corridor.

  Aerion followed after and he saw bodies and blood everywhere. They reached the great hall and Aerion stumbled to a stop in shock. A handful of Lady Katarina's followers had been forced back against the far wall. Among them he saw the tall warrior Nakkiki. A gout of flame ignited a handful of Norics, even as his club smashed another into ruin. A mix of Norics, Armen, and some of the warriors who wore Lord Hector's colors filled the huge chamber. Bulmor waded into them. His sword swept through them like a scythe through wheat. He moved like some kind of wizard's device, a blur of steel and death. Aerion charged forward beside him and heard boot steps behind him as others followed.

  Aerion's sword seemed to grow brighter as they fought. Against its light, he saw Aramer take position on his right side. To his left, he saw Lady Katarina fall in, her chain shirt spattered with blood and her light sword flicked in quick slashes. Above the ranks of the enemy, Aerion saw Nakkiki bellow and surge forward and he heard shouts from Katarina's other followers as they followed the big man.

  Arrows from his mother's runic bow poured into the enemy, a steady stream of explosions that sent broken bodies to spin through the air. A moment later, another demon plowed through the ranks of the enemy. Before Aerion could turn, a beam of eye-searing light lanced out and knocked the demon to tumble end over end. Aerion glanced over his shoulder to see Cederic fire another shot at the demon and then a third.

  Bulmor didn't seem to slow, but the enemy seemed without end.

  Then the enemy ranks drew back. It happened so suddenly that Aerion stumbled and he saw Bulmor stop and whirl, surprised at the lack of resistance. A dark-cloaked man stood ahead of them.

  “Why must you be so difficult?” He spoke, his high pitched voice sounded petulant. “Such spirit, such a shame I will have to break it. But I like my tools far more malleable than you've proven.” Bulmor gave a shout and charged forward, but the wizard didn't so much as move and a wave of force picked him up and threw him twenty feet backwards to hit the rear wall of the hall.

  Aerion saw Katarina trigger her wand, but the bolt of energy bounced off of a shimmering shield and blasted a hole through the ranks of the enemy twenty feet wide. The dark wizard spun his staff to point at Katarina and Aerion gave a shout and stepped in front of her, sword raised.

  The wizard froze and Aerion saw his dark eyes lock on him. “No, that's impossible!”

  As he froze in shock, Aerion heard the voice of Southwatch in his mind again, one last gift to you, young warrior. A cloud of darkness poured out of the stone beneath the wizards feet. It enveloped him. Wild arcs of green energy exploded outwards to knock them all from their fee
t. A final detonation caused the very mountain to tremble. As the dust and smoke cleared, it revealed an empty space where the dark wizard had stood.

  The enemy gave shouts of dismay. The Norics broke first, panicked by terror, and as they poured out, the panic spread. First the mercenaries and then the Armen retreated. As the rout continued, many hacked at their fellows to cut room for themselves to escape.

  ***

  Aerion Swordbreaker

  Southwatch, The Ryft Peaks, Duchy of Masov

  New Cycle Day, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  Aerion clawed at the pile of bodies until he uncovered the source of the moan. He froze, as he stared down at Josef. Three long gashes had sliced from his lower ribs, up across his chest, and along his neck to his jaw.

  Aerion's friend moaned again and Aerion gave a shout, “Arren! I need you, Josef's still alive!”

  “Aerion...”

  He looked down and saw that Josef's eyes had opened.

  “It will be alright, Josef. Arren will heal you,” Aerion said.

  “I don't... I don't think so,” Josef said, his deep voice weak. “Tell Kara that I'm sorry. That I... that the inn would be great.”

  Aerion knelt, and he clutched at Josef's arm. He tried not to look at how the demon had shredded his friend's flesh or to see the bone and organs that showed through the gashes. “You'll be fine, Josef. We've won and we have the weapons we need to defeat Hector, now.”

  Josef blinked at him, “It hurt before, but it doesn't hurt now.”

  “You'll be alright,” Aerion repeated. He looked over his shoulder and saw Arren had nearly reached them. He looked down at Josef, “Arren's going to help you.”

  “I can hear the Southwatch...” Josef said. “Can you hear him? He says I have earned my place here. I thought I wanted a farm and I really wanted Kara... but this is nice too...” Josef closed his eyes.

  “Josef?” Aerion said.

  Arren reached them. He knelt beside Aerion's friend, and checked for a pulse.

  Aerion felt something inside crumble as the spy stood up and patted Aerion on the shoulder, “He's gone.”

  Aerion gently rested Josef's hand on his chest. He felt tears well up in his good eye. A part of him wanted to scream, to rant... yet he had nothing left.

  Aerion stood, “How many more?”

  Arren gave a sigh, “He was the last. Twenty six dead and four more who may not survive. I wish we had a real healer. Even a village healer would have greater proficiency than me.”

  Aerion looked over at the spy. He saw how Aramer's shoulders drooped with exhaustion. “Have you got anything left? We all need you, Aramer, don't run yourself into the ground.”

  “I'm fine,” the Herald snapped. He gave a sigh, “Thank you for your concern, but trust me, I know my limits. I have not reached them yet.”

  Aerion looked down at Josef. “We can't leave him here... help me move him to the crypts please?”

  Arren gave him a nod and together they carried their friend down the corridor and then into the crypts below. Aerion led the way to an empty alcove and, with Arren's help, he slid his friend into place. Aerion wiped at the tears that ran down his face, “We should say something, right?”

  “Lady Katarina plans to give them all a service, when there's time,” Aramer said. “But if you want to say something, that seems right.”

  Aerion stared at the still form of his friend. He searched for the words, then finally gave up and rested his hand on his friends chest, “Josef, I count you as my first friend, I will miss you, and I hope that your spirit finds its rest.” He stood there for a long moment. He wished he could find the right words.

  Aramer rested his hand on Aerion's shoulder, “We'd best go.”

  Aerion shook his hand off, “I'd like a moment alone with Josef.”

  “Aerion,” Aramer said, his voice cold, “Josef is gone. That is just meat and bone. He would have wanted you to live and right now, we need you. We need everyone. There are twenty one of us to face an army. You took care of your dead friend, now you need to take care of the ones that still live.”

  Aerion turned, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to drive his fists into the Herald. Yet Aramer stood, calm, as if he expected a blow. “You're a bastard.” Aerion growled.

  “I'm worse than that. But we need to go,” Aramer said.

  Aerion followed the other man up the stairs, through the council chamber, and into the great hall. Most of the other survivors waited there. Aerion saw Quinn, his face pale, among the other gravely injured. He wanted to stop, to tell him the news, yet Aramer continued his walk towards another corridor. Aerion followed him. They went up a spiral staircase, past several other levels, and then out onto the wall of the fortress.

  Aerion saw that some hours yet remained before dawn. He felt a pain in his chest as he realized how much the world had changed in only a few hours. “Where are we going?” Aerion asked.

  “Not far, Lady Katarina is in the gatehouse. Cederic managed to close the gate and they're holding a meeting there,” Aramer said, his voice tired.

  “Why there?” Aerion asked.

  “Because the others won't hear, dear.” Aerion's mother said from the shadows ahead of them. “And I intended that to include you, as well, but apparently he had other thoughts.”

  “Boy just lost his friend Josef,” Aramer said, his voice gruff. “He could use something else to think about besides that. Besides, he's been known to have a good idea or two. He could be of help.”

  “I don't see how he could make things worse,” his mother said, her voice grim.

  “What's going on?” Aerion asked.

  “I'll show him,” Aramer said. “Let the others know we're on the way.”

  Aerion's mother turned away and went into a dark doorway. Aramer led Aerion past it, and then up a set of stairs. Aerion realized that they stood atop the gatehouse. “What are you supposed to show me?”

  Aramer went to the rampart and pointed over it, down at the valley below. Aerion walked forward and then froze as he stared down at what looked like the night sky.

  It took him a moment to realize the crucial difference. The many lights that filled the valley were not stars, they were campfires. The attack they had defeated had only been the first.

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen

  Captain Grel, The Duke's Hound

  Southwatch, Ryft Peaks, Duchy of Masov

  New Cycle Day, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  “The wizard's dead,” Jarka Rusk snapped. “I say we leave this cursed place.”

  Grel hid a wince at the Armen chieftain's words. If the Armen and Norics came to the conclusion that Xavien had died, then they would also realize that Grel and his mercenaries had no protection. “Xavien has appeared to die before and yet he's returned each time. You want to anger him by failing his orders?”

  “I fear no wizard,” Jarka Rusk said, yet his gaze flicked to the shadows of the tent.

  “Nor do I,” a child's voice spoke and Grel turned his fearful eyes on the three demons who shared the tent. “But the Dog has a point, if Xavien survived, he will want us to continue the attack.”

  Grel felt some of his tension ease, though to say he relaxed while within reach of any of the tent's occupants would have severely overstated the case.

  “Besides, if Xavien doesn't return after we capture the woman, we can simply devour her and these mercenaries as well,” the small demon said with a smile.

  Marka Rusk scowled at the demon, though he didn't seem to disagree with it on principle, Grel saw. “Very well. You will need to marshal the Noric tribes, many of them are in total disarray.”

  The largest of the surviving demons spoke, its voice sounded like two metal files rubbed against one another, “We will take them in hand. They will be ready by dawn... though somewhat less in number.” The demon looked like a tall muscular man, save that he had scale-covered skin and cold, reptilian eyes. Grel saw him lick his lips at the thought of terrif
ying the Norics into obedience.

  “I will marshal the Armen. With dawn, we will cut ladders. There can't be many that remain, we will swarm them under and pry them out of their stone shell,” Marka Rusk said. “They fought well for southerners, we'll honor them with quick deaths.”

  Grel sat silent. He felt relief that they had not thought to include him in their plans. That should give him time to slip out of the camp before their attack had finished.

  “You and your men will lead the attack, Dog,” Marka Rusk said, his voice cold.

  “What?” Grel looked over at the demons. The only emotion he saw in their faces was hunger. “Of course we will,” Grel said. “I would have insisted on it, had you not offered.”

  “I'm sure,” Marka Rusk said. “In addition, you'll turn over your horses to my scouts. I need to send a message to my fleet. This has taken longer than expected, I'll need them to send supplies.”

  “I can't do that,” Grel said. “I promised Xavien that I would send the woman south as soon as we captured her.”

  “Oh?” Marka Rusk asked.

  “Yes,” Grel said. “He seemed very insistent. He's known for his understanding, though. So I'm certain he'll forgive you for taking my horses.”

  Marka snarled, “Very well, keep the useless beasts.”

  Grel nodded slightly, “When should I have my men ready for the attack?”

  “We'll attack at noon.”

  ***

  Lady Katarina Emberhill

  “If they planned on retreating, they would have,” Bulmor said. “We can only assume they plan to attack again, probably in the light of day.”

  “We have the wall and the gates are closed now,” Aerion said.

  “They'll bring ladders,” Gerlin said. “The Armen will make those, either tonight or tomorrow in the light of day. They'll have the Norics bring them up and send them or the mercenaries over the wall first.”