The Spirit of Malquia (In the Absence of Kings Book 2)

by Lee LaCroix

  Zill rose from the ground and widened his stance, pacing side to side as he approached Novas. The ranger matched Zill’s approach, making sure he wouldn’t be flanked. The two kept up this dance for a while, for neither one was willing to compromise their defense, and each guessed where the next strike would come from.

  “Heh,” Zill spoke as he wiped a wave of sweat away, sweeping his hand in front of his face.

  One moment, Novas was safely away at a few paces. The next, when Zill’s hand had passed over his eyes, Novas was right in front of him. Novas finished his charge with an elbow to Zill’s chest. Zill wheezed as he was pushed back but regained his footing and put both his swords up, deflecting the wide sword slash aimed for his neck. Novas continued to swing to the left, raising the sword from behind him, and brought it down, but not before Zill could form the guard of crossed swords, capturing Dawnbringer in their recess. Zill folded his swords over Novas’ blade and attempted to wrench it from his hands, but Novas’ grip was too firm. Novas slid Dawnbringer out of the grip of the twin swords and continued to spin, landing a kick into Zill’s back. Zill paced away to rub at the blow that had landed more solid than Novas had realized.

  The redness of Zill’s eye sockets soon matched the colour of fervent face. He took two slow steps towards Novas and then ran in once again to begin a furious melee. As Novas knew that Zill would not drop his guard again, it was tough for Novas to find an opening under the barrage of attacks. Novas could remember clearly the fight with Khern and the tricks the bandit had used to weaken and tire his guard, and he recalled watching Domminal in many of his battles. Although Zill fought with more aggression, the different styles were really not that dissimilar to Novas. Novas found Dawnbringer to be a much lighter sword than the one he had once traveled with, and an energetic defense was not impossible after his training with heavier blades.

  While Zill continued with his relentless flurry of blows, he suddenly broke away, but the reason did not seem to be to catch his breath. Novas watched as Zill stumbled and rubbed at his eyes, as if they were in pain. Every time their blades met, Zill’s eyes had flashed blazing white in response to Dawnbringer’s glimmer but faded back to its impenetrable dark. Novas noted their resonating effect as if his eyes were spheres of moonstone radiating their absorbed light. Soon the effect diminished and with a dry chuckle of malice, Zill stepped back into the fray of sword fighting again. Although, Zill stepped away when his eyes became alight once again. But Novas would not give him pause this time, and he charged Zill, finally putting him on the defensive.

  Novas stepped in with a lunge directly towards Zill’s stomach, and Zill stepped to the side as Dawnbringer pierced his leathers. Novas spun around in a wide arc, sending the blade swinging towards Zill’s back. Zill hardly had time to place both his swords parallel to his back but managed to absorb the blow as both of his swords almost dug to his hips. Zill pushed Dawnbringer off by pulling his swords up from behind him, and Novas took that force and brought his blade up as well before bringing it downward in a powerful slash. Zill caught Dawnbringer once again in his crossed swords guard, but Novas continued to strike. Novas watched as Zill’s eyes began to light up with their crashing weapons so close to his face. Again and again, Novas struck Zill’s guard so fast that Zill did not have time to respond. Zill’s eyes became as white as the sun itself, but Novas would not look away; he was determined to finish this now.

  In the recess of the colliding blades, there was a cracking sound like the titanic splitting of an iceberg, and Zill screamed out. Novas watched as blood red seams raced through Zill’s white hot eyes and drove deeper into the core until his eyes fell apart into pieces and fell out of his sockets completely. Blood poured out of his lids as he dropped his swords and grasped at his eyes, falling to his knees in pain.

  “No, this shouldn’t be. They promised me! They promised me!” Zill cried as he continued to wipe the blood from his eyes, unable to regain his sight.

  “How could you trust them but not us? Did you agree with their greedy convictions so much that you could overlook the essence of their self-serving natures? They would say anything to make you their pawn,” Novas accused.

  “I was hoping you were a better man, Zill. I gave you all the chances in the world to reform. I set you on a better path and sent you on your way. You could have chosen to be one with creation and coexistence, instead of destruction and division. But you have made your choice, and I have made mine,” Novas lectured as he stood over Zill’s kneeling body.

  Zill raised his head from his hands, his face a blood soaked visage staring up at Novas. Novas returned his glare, and brought the pommel of his sword down straight, cracking Zill solid across the forehead. Zill went limp, and Novas watched him fall to the ground.

  “You were deceived as many of the desperate were. You were born into a fear greater than the hope I could have given you. I cannot correct my failures with your death. Malquia will decide your fate,” Novas spoke to his fallen friend.

  Novas shook his head with disappointment and paced over to where Domminal lay. It was hard for Novas to believe that his ally was at peace now because a faint grimace was fixed upon his face; a state of distress for the rest of eternity. Like all of the Crown Army who had fallen today, a loyal man like Domminal deserved a better death, Novas thought. The struggle was almost over, he hoped, and he looked toward the exit where his father had chased Lord Vyse. A tapping sound emerged from the door opening and closing, caught in an uncertain wind. Novas looked towards the balcony and through the set of tiled windows to see his father and the leader of the Blackwoods standing paces apart, swords drawn. Their blades had met before Novas broke his gaze, and the decisive battle had begun.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Garreth flung open the double doors of the audience room exit, keeping his vision trained on the small wisps of leather coat that whipped around each corner of the house; he could not lose Vyse in this most final of moments. The Lord had not gone far in truth. A turn to the right, up a small flight of stairs, and out another set of double doors onto a balcony with a wide floor of stone and a border enclosed by a carved fence of rock that rose to the hip. Sprawled out north of the balcony was the Vandarian encampment with hundreds of tents with hundreds of vacancies. Lord Vyse stood on the far side of the balcony looking down over its edge, thinking of escape into the leafy sculptures down below. Garreth paced over to the edge of the balcony and looked down to where Vyse was staring.

  “Stop right there!” Garreth commanded.

  Vyse looked over at him, back down to the bushes, and then moved towards the edge

  “You’ll be dead before you emerge from those bushes, I can promise you that,” Garreth threatened as he swung his bow around into his hand.

  Vyse looked over Garreth and decided not to call his bluff. He faced Garreth, raised his hands in defeat, and paced into the center of the balcony.

  “Alright, you’ve got me!” Vyse yelled. “I suppose you’ll want to take me in for judgment.”

  “How observant! How wise!” Garreth mocked as he slung his bow behind his back and approached to apprehend Vyse.

  Garreth was only a pace away from Vyse, approaching his back to bind his hands, when Vyse’s right hand dropped suddenly and swiped at Garreth with his blade. Garreth leapt back from the strike and landed against the railing. Vyse stepped away to the other side of the balcony and faced Garreth with his blade drawn.

  “You think I would go so easily? Think again,” Vyse chided as he twirled his blade.

  “Have it your way,” Garreth replied as he withdrew Darkbreaker from its scabbard.

  “Ah, a bearer of the mursame blade. I have heard a great deal about you. It’s a shame your flashy tricks won’t work on me,” Vyse assured Garreth as he pointed his darkened sword forward.

  Garreth looked over the lord’s sword. Indeed, it did have the same texture as forged sunsteel and looked to be an effective blade.

  “Well, let us begin,” Vyse st
ated.

  The ranger moved in with his blade raised and was prepared to make a strike or defend against at once. Vyse went slack as Garreth approached, turned on his side, and danced around on nimble feet. As soon as Garreth came in range, Vyse started with a series of jabs. The lord’s speed surprised Garreth, but he was not unprepared for it, and he flourished his blade in front of him to deflect those lunges. Vyse motioned to make a downwards strike towards Garreth’s neck but then feigned and reeled his blade back for another jab. Garreth stepped to the side and brought his blade down, forcing both their swords towards the floor. Vyse and Garreth took their eyes off their swords for a moment and looked at each other. Garreth then began to slide Darkbreaker up Vyse’s blade towards the torso. Along the edges of the sword, the two sunsteel blades seemed to throw off shimmering sparks as the excess light was not absorbed by their blades. Vyse grasped the hilt of his sword with two hands and lifted his blade up, sending Darkbringer up high as he ducked under its fatal arc. As his back was exposed, Vyse paced away to reposition himself from the next bout.

  Garreth looked over his adversary. Vyse was skilled but not more than any seasoned warrior he had faced. Garreth could only guess, but he assumed that Vyse must have been tutored by some sword master for hire, for he had never heard of Vyse’s prowess with a blade before. After all, Vyse did leave the fighting to those more willing to die. He seemed to fight with the resolve to keep his life though, breaking his calm demeanour with his forceful strikes and enthusiastic grunting that followed.

  “Heah! Hyeh! Aegh!” Vyse yelled as he placed his stabs.

  Garreth kept his quiet and his breathing calm as he anticipated each blow to the best of his ability. But sometimes, that was not enough. Vyse stood with his hip facing forward, leaving only the smallest area for Garreth to land strikes, and positioned himself behind his sword. When Garreth stepped in with a downwards strike, Vyse did not even bother to deflect it, stepping to the side and the lunging at Garreth’s back. Garreth began his next attack stepping forward and unleashing a sideways slash, and Vyse stepped to the side to deflect the blade at an opposing angle. Darkbreaker slid into Vyse’s cross guard, but Garreth released his sword before Vyse had the chance to twist the blade away.

  “You know, I recognized you from the moment you entered the room you know. Your name escapes me, as it if it was important, but your position and reputation I recall. Your stalwart effort as the King’s protector lulled the man into a false sense of security. Now tell me, are you really here to free the people from my so called tyranny or to avenge the king, to resolve your failure?” Vyse taunted after he skipped away from their locked blades.

  Garreth chuckled, responding instead in the speech of his blade with a downwards strike. Vyse lifted his sword in an upwards arc and deflected Darkbreaker to the side. When his sword continued behind him, Vyse drove his sword forwards in a swift thrust. Garreth placed his right foot behind him and watched Vyse’s sword nearly pierce his stomach. Even faster than Vyse’s hornet-like lunges, Garreth grabbed Vyse’s wrist and restrained him from evading backwards again. Vyse struggled to free his arm from Garreth’s grip, but the ranger was too strong, and the two met eye to eye. Garreth brought up his downturned sword and brought his hands together in a sweeping strike, severing Vyse’s sword hand from his arm. Vyse was freed from bondage with a piercing howl, and he grasped at his wrist.

  “Augh! I can’t replace this! This can’t be bought!” the man yelled.

  Garreth stared at the man’s ridiculous display as Vyse tried to keep the blood from spilling from his arm, which was now pooling on the floor beside the severed hand.

  “How could you? How dare you!” Vyse accused as he shook his severed limb at Garreth, spraying webs of blood onto him.

  “Enough,” Garreth intoned as he moved towards Vyse.

  Vyse lifted his arms up high to defend himself, but Garreth found his way in between them and knocked Vyse solid on the head with the pommel of his blade, and Vyse dropped to the floor unconscious. Garreth looked down at the man who grew paler by the minute and the pool of blood forming around him, and he felt a strange feeling in his heart. Instead of the satisfaction of justice or thrill of victory, Garreth took pity on another victim drawn to the folly of man’s vices. He shook his head, kneeled down, picked up the body, and then threw Vyse’s torso over his shoulder. The ranger walked back inside the manse through the twist of hallways and into the audience room where he found Novas kneeling over the body of fallen Domminal.

  “Come on. Get Domminal up, we’ve got to get these back to Berault,” Garreth ordered with an upwards motion of his eyes.

  Novas frowned but accepted the duty. Although as heavy as Domminal was, Novas lifted him onto his back and began to follow his father out of the open room, leaving the body of his former friend behind.

  By the time Garreth and Novas emerged from the mansion, the battle had come to an end completely. Many of the Blackwoods, Queen’s Aegis, and Vandarian forces were being bound and prepared for escort back to the capital. After having their hands secured behind them, the members of the enemy force were pulled up off their knees and formed into groups of five wide and a length of many, and they were marched southward out of Deepshine. At the top of the stairs, Garreth could just see the first prisoner convoy fade from view on the horizon of the southern road. As Garreth began to descend the stairs, the eyes of his comrades were fixed upon him as they seemed to be in wait outside the mansion for the ultimate conclusion of this battle. Berault made his way through the crowd as murmurs began to arise about Garreth’s appearance. When Garreth made the landing, Berault was there at the front alongside with Eyrn, Kayten, Ilsa, and Behn.

  “So, you’ve got him. This is the wretch here?” Berault inquired.

  “Aye, indeed,” Garreth responded with a nod.

  Garreth kneeled over and let the body roll off his shoulder with a thump. Vyse rolled over, face up, and was starting to go blue around the eyes and mouth. Ilsa inhaled a quick breath as Berault nudged at the severed wrist with his foot.

  “It is done,” Berault nodded as they all looked down upon the body.

  “Let’s get that arm wrapped up before he bleeds to death. We’ll need him alive in the time to come,” Berault commanded, and he waved over a pair of soldiers who kneeled over and took the body away.

  The crowd watched Vyse get taken away to the encampment that was setting up south of Deepshine, and they all slowly turned back to Berault and Garreth. Berault was puzzled as Novas continued down the stairs, and shortly the rest of them joined his glance as Garreth finally turned.

  “And which one is this?” Berault inquired, arching a brow.

  Garreth turned back to the man with downcast eyes but would not meet his questioning gaze. As Novas kneeled down and rolled the body off his shoulder, Garreth was there to catch the head and lower the body softly onto the ground. There was a collective gasp from many of them, and then a worn, drawn-out sigh, miserable and weary, like a gray-sky wind through a dying tree.

  “Ach,” Berault said as his eyes blinked, and his breath became short and ragged. “Not Dom, anyone but Dom, please.”

  “Domminal, good Domminal,” Ilsa spoke as she kneeled down beside him and took his head in her hands, stroking the hair from his face.

  She looked up at Garreth and met his eyes, which were sunken, red, and set.

  “Domminal was one of the best of us. He needed no other reason to follow us to Boulderstone, to Deepshine, into that manor other than that he felt it was right. He once watched over this kingdom and its people from afar, and we were lucky that he came to our aid when we needed him the most. I can only hope he now watches over us again, somewhere out there,” Garreth eulogized as the rest of his allies stood mourning over their fallen friend.

  “He was one of the strongest men I knew and deserved much better than he got. In this time of endless strife, many acts of selflessness and heroism have gone unaccredited. I hope we can honour him in memory better
than we did in life,” Eyrn added.

  “We will, my friends. We will,” Berault uttered and kneeled down.

  The rest of the crowd around them kneeled, and no more words were said.

  Act Five

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  There was a shattering sound like a forest falling victim to the blistering tornado, all creaking and cracking, when the walls of Deepshine were pulled from their roots. The sharpened deterrence, wooden defenders of the Blackwoods trench, were pulled from their roots and moved. Before the remainder of the Crown Army, a lofty construction of crisscrossed logs and many levels stood nearly two stories high. Plunged between the intertwining pieces, the tall banners of the Crown Aegis were raised with their cloth dangling in the calm breeze. Resting upon those elevated floors were the fallen whose hands were folded over their weapons that lay upon them, and their tabards were straightened to challenge the sky. No man or woman were rested upon each other but laid side by side, and loyal Domminal slept upon the highest peak.

  “This conflict of blood and chaos, vice and viciousness, has now come to an end. The cruel master, whose machinations have turned our countrymen against each other, has now been disposed and will answer for his crimes. The wicked men who sailed across a sea now return with their courage taken and their wills broken. No longer will this place blacken the sky or the sea or harbour the hearts of darkness. Perhaps in time, we will all learn to trust the shadows again,” Berault orated to the crowd that stood before him in memorial before lighting the torch in his hand and raising it towards them.