by Lee LaCroix
The berserker raised his axehead up high but feigned his strike and stabbed with the end of his axe handle where a jagged spike was mounted. Ilsa evaded the thrust with a step to the right, and was ready when the axehead began to swing down with a shrill whistle. The axeman swung his axe in a wide arc and followed through with a swift horizontal strike, but it was not fast enough for the agile Vemsdower as she leapt out of its reach. Over the yelling and the clashes of steel, Ilsa could hear the intoning of an angry growl beneath the cowl. The berserker stepped forward with the twist of his hips and sent the axe around in the opposite direction, this time primed to take off Ilsa’s head. She ducked under the strike but was almost unprepared when the axeman kept his blade swinging around and came rushing down in another powerful downwards strike. She stepped to the left in the nick of time, and the blade landed in the ground just shy of her toes.
With the axe momentarily planted in the ground, Ilsa hopped up onto its handle, took three quick steps up its length, and then unwound a cartwheel kick at the berserker’s head. As she spun, she grabbed onto his head to anchor herself. With her legs above her, she swung her weight behind him. She landed with both feet on his back, knocking the axeman off balance as she landed, and she let go of his head, withdrew her blades, and then sunk them deep into the back of his neck. She pushed off his back and dragged her daggers down past the shoulders, alongside the spine on each side, and then down to around his hips. When her feet met the ground, she withdrew her blades and began a swift series of stabs like a pugilist’s pummel. The axeman reached around towards his back without avail. Leaving his axe in the ground, the berserker rushed out into the crowd in a panic but fell not far from there and did not move again.
The felling of one of these armoured berserkers showed the Crown Army that these behemoths were not invincible, and the Malquians fought with a renewed vigor and relinquished their fear. They managed to push the Blackwoods forces back towards the bottleneck, but the restrictive space and ranged enemy emplacements kept the battle focused there at a standstill. Berault stood beside Behn in the cover of the trenches, looking over his comrade’s injury and watching his allies try to pry the mangled helm from his armour.
“We need to find a way through those gates! We’re losing too many good men and women and accomplishing nothing!” Behn yelled towards Berault with his hand aloft in the air, motioning north towards the battle.
“The northern entrance towards the mine has been boarded up, and the walls are as thick as logs all the way around. If we knew this was going to be a problem, we could have brought siege ladders!” Berault lamented.
“There is no time for regrets now. We must continue and succeed or forever be slaves to the fate we have made for ourselves,” Behn intoned as he finally wrenched the helmet off his head
The left side of his jaw was swollen red and purple hue. Berault looked west to the shores of the bay as if he was looking for something.
“No regrets! Only truth and honour!” Berault proclaimed as he struck Behn on the shoulder.
Behn rose from the side of the trench and regained his balance, making strides to rejoin the battle once again. He had barely made it up the ramp before there was a thunderous crash like a wooden home twisting in a windy storm. In the bay, there was a speeding ship with a three-story mast and blood red sails featuring an enlarged rendition of the Crown Aegis banner. It continued on with full speed and slid into the beach, creating a wide divide in the sand. At the bow, there was a man with golden armour and a sword stretched forward. With the swings of his sword, the siege instruments on the deck of the Crown Army ship began to hurl large boulders into the midst of the camp. Behn watched as more Malquians hurried down the plank and scrambled up the shore to join the battle, and the catapults continued to bombard the Blackwoods archers that once were safe within their walls. After a few minutes of chaos, the two northern watchtowers, filled once again with archers, cracked and tumbled to the ground as their supports were smashed to splinters by the rocky downpour. The siege emplacements within the camp fared little better, for their assault on the Crown Army ceased a short time after the archers fell as well.
The bottleneck at the gates of Deepshine finally broke, and the line of Queen’s Aegis and Vandarian berserkers finally submitted to the newly reformed ranks of the Crown Army, who now regrouped in the absence of opposing siege fire. The shieldsmen moved forward in a great line and kept the Blackwoods at bay. If their attackers were too aggressive, the shieldsmen would open up their lines and the enemy forces would go charging through only to meet an ambush with no escape. The archers moved up out of the trench as some found their place behind the mass of warriors situated before the shieldsmen, and others made their way onto roofs and began to strike from there. The fighting continued in the favor of the Crown Army until they reached the decorated palace of Lord Vyse in the northern end of the camp that was nearly at its end. Some of the Blackwoods were already retreating and making their way through the refinery, which was the only exit still available, however winding. The Vandari did not run as they knew they would be traitors for such crimes, and so they stayed at the last front they knew.
Garreth soon found himself at the wide set of stone stairs flanked by the two sunsteel warrior statues. Even in that gray of days, those figures seemed to radiate a glimmer of sunshine that had been naturally hidden by the clouds. The glinting swirls on the windowpanes seemed like horrific faces in the shade of the day, and the half arches on the rooftop bent like fangs. He looked up at the great door of black and the decorated gray manse that surrounded it, and he knew he must make his flight inside.
“Novas! Here! Here!” Garreth called out with the wave of his hand.
His son, ever faithful to the sound of his father’s voice, emerged out of the battling crowd shortly after with Domminal in tow.
“I’m here to see this to the end,” Domminal stated.
They opened the door and found themselves in a place of supreme luxury even rivaling that of the Royal Palace. The floor was covered in slate that was so heavily shined the three could make out a faint reflection of themselves. Wood that was stained golden brown made up the support of the structure. The slate also made up the support points near joints and at the edges of stairs. There were many sunsteel statues. Some were small, depicting natural things like animals or trees or constructions like boats. Others were life-size figures of people of the past although none of the three recognized any of their identities. There was also a great deal of greenery found around the house such as a selection of potted trees and plants, which was surprising for someone who had authorized the leveling of so much forestry. Before they could move into the other rooms on the ground floor, a rapping of footsteps caught their attention at the stairway directly in front of them. A middle-aged man in a black and white servant’s suit descended with an even step towards them. He stopped at the landing, made a welcoming gesture with his hands, and then finished with a bow.
“Please sirs, this way. Lord Vyse will see you now,” the butler urged as he stepped to the side and motioned towards the stairs.
The three shrugged but kept their wits and vision; it could be a trap, they supposed. They walked up the stairs to the second level where a long hall led to an audience room that was barely visible behind nearly shut doors. As they walked down the hallway, there was a tremendous racket at one of the doors to the side, which brought the attention of the three soldiers to it.
“Don’t mind that. It’s just one of the more… disturbed relatives of Lord Vyse,” the butler explained as he issued them forward once again.
They were about to continue on when they heard a voice calling from the room, and Novas turned as he knew that voice! The group stopped and followed Novas as he tried to open the door, which he found to be locked. Novas withdrew Darkbreaker and shattered the hold of the locks, letting the doors fly open. Chained against the wall, looking pale and much thinner than Novas had last seen him, was Zill. Although it had only been
a short span of weeks, it had seemed like his friend Zill had been lost to him forever since disappearing from his overturned apartment in the Lower Quarter. Novas rushed over to his friend’s side and smashed the chains with his sword, throwing up flashes of light on the wall. With his chin planted firm against his chest, Zill rolled his head about when he sensed the movement around him. The sunken pits of his eye sockets were pink, purple, and gray and marked with scratches and burns. Zill opened his eyes as if in shock and focused them upon his friend.
“I knew you would come for me. I knew you were a true friend, I knew it,” Zill murmured.
Novas inhaled a sharp breath as he looked into the visage of his friend. His eyes were now a deep and craggy black.
“They had me working in the mines. The things I have seen and have not,” Zill mumbled as he recognized Novas’ shock.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” Novas said as he lifted Zill to his feet.
“We should continue before it’s too late,” Garreth urged, and Zill hobbled behind them while they made their way into the audience room.
At the far end of the room was a large collection of windows that looked over the balcony and the field below. To either side of them were large assortments of paintings or tapestries, and there were miniatures of the sunsteel statues in each of the far corners. At the far end of the room, there was a tall chair and a desk. Directly in front of the desk, there was a figure in a dark overcoat with his back turned to them.
“My Lord, sir. Your guests have arrived,” the butler announced before turning and leaving the room, shutting the doors behind them.
The man at the table raised his hands from the desk but kept his posture high and turned to them. He looked just as he did that fateful day in the courtyard. On this day, Vyse was wearing a white shirt with short frills, and a black neck ornament which shined like sunsteel. Like in the past, he wore a fine black pant with shiny, leather shoes, and his coat had a swirled design of brushed sunsteel. He turned to them and pulled at the edges of his gloves.
“Oh dear. The heroes have come, all awash in blood and glory. Well, I welcome you fools to the place of this land’s dissolution. Without me, this land will be plunged into darkness,” the lord stated as he glared at his visitors.
“The land has been plenty dark since you and your thugs took charge of things, and the men and women who rallied here today are willing to bring the light again,” Garreth explained.
“Tut tut. Since you have my sister, the weak-willed specimen she is, I’m sure you know why I’ve gone to such great lengths to burden the people of Amatharsus and beyond, to employ my men to their less than tasteful affairs. But you have seen the Varnwa? The large warriors with the axes? From here, I watched them slice apart your ranks like a hot knife through fat. They are only the briefest of tastes of what the Order threatens our land with.
“There once was time when freedom was free, even before the great line of Malquian kings was forged in this land. After the establishment of his reign, however, every person of this land fell under the servitude of his laws. Now, an even greater power looks to claim sovereignty over these people just as the descendants of the King did long ago. But it’s just not laws they wish to instill but obedience, faith, authority, offering… sacrifice!” Lord Vyse explained, pacing along the edges of the desk.
“The price you ask of the people is too much. They refuse to live in the conditions you would impose. This army is here today as messengers of those people and their pleas,” Garreth refuted.
“The people have grown fat, lazy, and pampered. They have lived in prosperity for far too long. They do not know the true reality of life within this world,” Lord Vyse accused.
“And you do? There’s only one person I see living in opulence and it’s you! Were you so scared to lose this life of luxury that you sacrificed the King to keep it even if it meant submitting to ransoming of the kingdom?” Garreth rebuked.
“The King was a fool. The Vandari that took Boulderstone, that defended Deepshine today, were merely singular leaves from a giant tree that will deposit its seed across the entire world. I did what was necessary to maintain the lives of our people even if it meant employing some thorough taxation. The people would still have their cities, their families, and their culture. They would live without fear of the foreign soldier patrolling their streets or invading their homes. The Vandarian Order has nations upon nations of soldiers at their command. The King was a fool to believe he could defend us from their wrath,” Vyse stated.
“So, you had him killed?” Garreth accused.
“I did what was necessary to maintain what was left of the kingdom. What is worse to lose? A monarch and some civil liberties or the freedom and identity of an entire nation. If anything, I’ve done the people a great favour,” Lord Vyse replied.
“You dog! You traitor! You’ll hang for this,” Garreth said as he stepped forward, withdrawing Darkbreaker and pointing it at Vyse as he approached.
“Not if I can help it,” Vyse replied with a smirk, and he flashed his eyes towards Garreth.
Zill pushed off from his place against the wall and crept over to Domminal, reaching for both his swords from behind him. He unsheathed both the blades and drove them straight into Domminal’s back, impaling him. Domminal grunted and coughed as he fell to his knees, hands wrapped around the blades that had pierced him. Garreth and Novas looked over in absolute shock as Zill seemed to come alive, disregarding his ploy of illness, and kicked Domminal off the pair of blades where the ranger collapsed on the floor.
“No! Domminal!” Novas screamed as he watched Zill spray the blood on the floor.
“Tah tah!” Lord Vyse chanted as he slipped away into a back entrance, heading towards his escape on the outer balcony.
“Go! Go, Father! I can handle this!” Novas said as he urged away his father, and Garreth rushed after the escaping Lord.
Zill and Novas watched Garreth as he flew out the door, and Zill paced away from the body, now making the floor slippery with blood, into the wider area of the room. Domminal rolled over and clutched at Novas’ sleeve, coughing up mouthfuls of blood.
“Let no ranger walk alone,” Domminal uttered and stared deep into Novas’ face.
Novas could see when the life left Domminal; the brief flicker of unfocused eyes that soon were set as stone. Novas laid Domminal against the ground, and with the brush of his hands, closed his eyes.
“Why, Zill! Why did you do it! Why all this!” Novas shouted at his friend. “You had a home, some money, some friends, and a purpose to fight for! What was missing for you?”
“Poor, idealistic Novas. You rely on these ideas to define your identity, which is understandable. They are something you will always have. You have a famous father, and you have a place among the Crown Aegis. I, however, am alone. I cannot rely on the goodwill of others for my survival. I cannot trust that others will be there to look after me. I have done what was necessary to ensure my survival,” Zill chided.
“No. This was completely unnecessary. Domminal was a good man! And I could have been your brother! You had a home! I took you from that den of thieves. We could have been alright,” Novas yelled, and his face gained a furious redness.
“No. I have made my choice. You cannot make me for me regardless of how much you think it is right. Now let us follow it through,” Zill stated as felt the weight and length of the swords and flourished them around.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As if feigning to inspect those swords, Zill lunged at Novas with a swift strike aimed at both the shoulders. Novas grit his teeth, knowing he could not solve this conflict with words, and withdrew Dawnbringer, unleashing the sword with a deflecting slash. Zill’s swords were pushed to Novas’ left, but Zill sprung back up with a rising strike with both swords. Novas brought his sword down upon the two blades as they came up to meet him, and they stayed locked in tension. The two blades caused a wild flicker of light along Dawnbringer’s edge. Novas saw the pul
sating light on Zill’s face that had blinded many a foe in the previous battle. This time, Zill only looked through the light and returned Novas’ glance with unmoving eyes; Dawnbringer’s flashing effect seemed to have no effect on this adversary.
Zill slid the bottom most blade out of place, forcing Dawnbringer towards the floor along the other, and then lunged at Novas. As Novas jumped backwards to avoid the blow, Zill took advantage of Novas’ loss of balance. Zill paced forward again, unleashed two sideways slices with each sword, and then brought both down from above. Novas moved his sword from left, to right, and back again, deflecting the rapid succession of blows and then lying Dawnbringer’s flat across his left hand to absorb the impact of both blades. His guard held, but Novas’ attention was focused too high, so Zill spun and released a straight kick to Novas’ stomach, sending him rolling onto the floor. Novas looked with a daze as Zill hung suspended in the air above him, Domminal’s blades glinting in the candlelight of the room. Novas rolled out of the way as Zill plunged both swords into the floor and impaled the wooden boards, ejecting splinters into the air around him. As Zill pulled the blades from floorboards, Novas rose to his feet and prepared himself for the next assault.
Novas was taken by surprise at Zill’s ferocious caliber of sword fighting, for his wild character was reflected in the aggressive manner that he attacked his opponent. And yet, Zill’s strikes were precise and balanced, and he had hardly given Novas time to counter. Novas had to wonder why he had never seen Zill fight, and how far this betrayal trailed into the past. It did not take Novas long after these thoughts to steel himself against the conflicting emotions that dominated their exchange prior. Novas’ life was on the line, and it was possible this attack was a long time coming. He had to see Zill as just another Blackwoods; just another of the disenchanted, mistrustful, and discordant vagabonds that threatened the way of life for the people of this land. And by the time Novas had taken to his feet and lifted his sword again, he had.
