Ascension (War of the Seraphs): Book One

by Dan Bilodeau

  “I guess you know where I took Ma?”

  “You did well. She should be fine until this is over.”

  “What’s over?”

  “I’m afraid we’ll all find out soon enough. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Early the next morning, Dal heard noise in the distance and felt the ground shaking. “Not an earthquake!” he cried out.

  Hadrian put his hands up to his ears. “Horses. Which means one of two things. Either it’s Andal cavalry or the Weepers. Pray it’s the first, lad. You’re not close to ready for Weepers, and I’m getting too old.”

  “What’s a Weeper?”

  “Not now.” Hadrian glanced at Deidre and came back to Dal. “We’ve got to make haste for her family’s farm,” Hadrian said as he began trotting down a path, with Dal and Deidre right behind. “You’ve done the right thing by getting your mother to the woods, but she’ll be in grave danger if the Andals find out she’s hiding. If they learn where you all met up, they can track her from there.”

  “How could they possibly learn that?” Dal asked.

  Hadrian didn’t answer, but Deidre said, “If they tortured my father or brother, the other would tell.” With teary eyes and strained features, her face appeared solemn at that moment.

  With Hadrian supplying the magic, all three were soon jogging at a modest pace toward Deidre’s farm, with the woodland creatures fleeing in the opposite direction. The thundering grew louder.

  TEN

  They moved in silence for several miles until they saw the smoke. “Our farm!” Deidre screamed and broke into a run.

  “Deidre, no!” Dal yelled, but she ignored him and ran toward the house.

  The smoke was thick, yet he could see Andal soldiers, with their faces covered by masks, throwing torches in the barn. The animals were in a frenzy, and some were able to save themselves by breaking free as the flames seemed to lick the sky greedily. Most, however, met a fiery death.

  Though the blaze was a distance from him, Dal felt searing heat. Or maybe it was coming from within his own body. He raced toward them and screamed, “No more! No more!”

  The riders stopped and brought their horses together. Then they turned their steeds toward him and charged,

  “Get back, Dalziel!” Hadrian yelled as he stepped in front of his young ward. “Do as you’re told!”

  Dal retreated to the tree line and reached into his pocket and grabbed the stone. He raised his hands as the riders approached Hadrian. “Damn it!” he yelled. He tried to make himself angry, but all he felt was terror. “Come on, you stupid rock, help me out!” The stone pulsed a little brighter, but nothing happened. He felt helpless. Why wouldn't the stone work? He watched as a lone frail figure was being confronted by ten mounted marauders who had their weapons drawn.

  The horsemen were playing with Hadrian, circling and taunting him. The old man just stood there, staring intently at the riders. Dal spotted a log and picked it up. He rushed forward and let out a war cry. If he was going to die, he would do what he could to take at least one of them with him.

  He hadn’t traveled twenty feet when he heard a rumbling, and a section of earth infront of Hadrian exploded, leaving a chasm that was wide and deep. The riders and their mounts in the circle closest to this crater couldn’t pull up and fell in. Other Andals were thrown violently from their horses and didn’t move. A few soldiers, however, were able to ride away.

  Hadrian stretched out his arms and icicles appeared in place of his hands. He threw them in one motion and impaled the three remaining riders, and when the terrified horses ran until they were out of sight, movement halted until two black figures raised from what was now a ruins. Each was holding a short bow with spikes on either end.

  They began firing arrows at Hadrian. Several streaked toward him, only to be deflected at the last moment. Hadrian held a look of intense concentration as a small fireball flew from his hand, only to miss either man. One of the soldiers firing an arrow had better luck. It struck Hadrian in the shoulder. He cried out and fell, clutching at the wound.

  The two Andals were advancing toward Hadrian’s crumpled form when an arrow took the one closest to him in the throat. He gurgled and clutched at his ruined windpipe as he collapsed to the ground and writhed in pain. The remaining soldier turned toward this new threat, only to receive an arrow through his mask for his trouble. They were indeed mortals, for this man slumped to the ground too. Both men twitched for a while, but soon lay still.

  Dal watched as a figure emerged from the woods. Deidre, or at least someone vaguely resembling her, came toward him. Her clothes were ashen and charred, her face covered in soot and mud.

  “Deidre, are you okay?”

  She didn’t speak at first, but approached him with her bow in her hand and a dazed look on her face, as if waking from a bad dream. “My family’s dead,” she said, and collapsed into his arms.

  “Dalziel,” Hadrian called weakly. Dal placed Deidre on the ground as gently as he could and ran to him.

  “Hade, lie still.” Dal didn’t know much about healing. That was usually left to the town medicine man. He did however know how to bind a wound from the plowing accidents that had happened over the years.

  “Pull the arrow out,” Hadrian said, his eyes rolling up in his head.

  “Are you ready?” Dal gripped the arrow.

  “Just do it. Now.”

  Dal broke the arrow in two and yanked out the piece embedded in Hadrian’s shoulder. He screamed a few words that Dal had never heard before as blood gushed from the wound. But at least the arrow was out, and he tore off a piece of his shirt and pressed it to the wound to staunch the bleeding. He used a good part of the rest of his shirt to make a sling, and he placed Hadrian’s arm in it. While he was doing this, Deidre went into her house and came back with some small mementos of her family she could carry in her knapsack and one of Roland’s shirts for Dal.

  Dal thanked her and said, “I’m happy they didn’t, but I’m surprised they didn’t torch your house.”

  “Why should they?” she replied, with sarcasm as thick as the smoke still billowing from the barn. “They’d killed my father and brother. I’m sure they wanted me to find my father and brother just as I did. But I’ve got a surprise for them.” She retrieved a spent torch, wrapped what was left of Dal’s torn shirt around it, lit it, and set her house on fire, saying, “I’ll never come back here, and the bastards will never know that I saw what they did to my family. Let’s make up a stretcher of some kind to carry Hade and get out of here.”

  The pace was slow, but it was steady, and they retraced their earlier route. Dal was impressed, or rather amazed, with Deidre’s strength and stamina. He wanted to stop when they neared where his mother was hiding to see how she was faring. But when he considered that his gesture might lead the Andals right to her, he abandoned the idea.

  Night came, and they found a patch of moss near a tree where Hadrian could sleep in as much comfort as a forest would allow. He’d awakened several times while he was being carried, once when Dal lost his grip and dropped him, but he was in so much pain that he didn’t seem to know what had jarred him so.

  Deidre said Hade had a fever, and the most important thing was for it to break, so they decided to build a fire and sweat it out of him. Dal was afraid that the smoke might attract Andals, but if his old friend died, it wouldn’t matter. He said he’d stay up and keep watch while Deidre slept.

  He’d just finished eating a rabbit Deidre had shot with her bow and was staring off into the night. Dio, if you’re up there, please let my mother be safe. You’ve already taken my brother from me, leave me something! He begun to silently weep. It was all too much for him. How was he supposed to use magic? Farming was the only life he’d ever known. Then he remembered his dreams, and in them he'd asked for this. Well, here it was. Yet was this really what he wanted? Pangs of guilt ran through him. If he had been a better farmer, more in touch with reality, maybe his brother would still be alive. He was in the
middle of these dark thoughts when Deidre awoke with a start.

  “Stop it!” she screamed. Dal ran over and held her.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe now. You were having a nightmare, that’s all.”

  She gazed at him, her face a picture of confusion. “What are you doing here? You were in my dream. Except for…and….” She began sobbing. “Except it wasn’t a dream, was it? I killed those men. My family’s dead. Papa tried to fight them but they rode him down with their horses right in the house. Trampled him until he was unrecognizable except to me. Roland too.” She cried hard for several minutes. “What are we going to do?”

  Dal didn’t have an answer. He just held her as she cried. After a while she wiped away her tears and went over to Hadrian, placing her hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes briefly and spoke to her. She came back to Dal.

  “He’s starting to get better,” she said in a quiet voice. “The fever is dying down and he says his shoulder doesn’t hurt as much. Maybe if I had been there--”

  “Don’t. Your family loved you, but there’s nothing you could have done for them. They’re with Dio now.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes, I do.” He lied.

  She held his gaze for a moment, as if deciding something. Then she buried her face in his shirt and held him tight. “I feel I could have done something. Maybe I could have drawn the riders away before they attacked.”

  “You did everything you could, Deidre. You killed two Andals who would have killed Hadrian and likely me too. And if you look at everything closely, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t done what I did in the market, your family would still be alive.” She stared at him angrily and slapped him hard across his face.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, fuming. “The Andals did this, not you. They’ve raided before, and it was only a matter of time before they started on the more rural farmers. They killed Soren. You stood up to them. That’s all there is to it. You did what so many Ibernians have wanted to do for a long, long time.” She put her arms around him. “We can’t lose hope. We have each other, and you have something special. We can make them pay for what they’ve done.”

  “I have something special, all right, a damn rock.” He fumbled in his pocket for it, and for a moment thought about tossing it as far into the woods as he could throw it. But Hadrian would have some magical way of finding it, so he stuck it back in his britches.

  “Do you have any idea why you couldn’t summon your powers today?”

  “I’ve thought about it and I’ve thought about it, but I can’t figure it out. Hadrian said something about my needing to be angry to use my element. But I wasn’t angry when the Andal patrol came today, I was afraid. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get the stone to help me.”

  “You, afraid? Never. You were just confused.” She kissed him again, and he was becoming less confused.

  He caught his breath and said, “You saved both our lives back there with your shooting. And I never have thanked you for saving Ma. If you hadn’t helped convince her to leave, well….” He didn’t want to say that it would have been her rather than Deidre’s family.

  Deidre had almost smiled, but her features turned stark. “With everything else going on, I forgot to tell you, when I went to town for the things for Roland, Slaig told me the Andals rounded up Curran and Pad. Somehow they got wind that you three were friendly. I guess the damn Andals pay more attention to us on market days than we thought.”

  “It's all right, you've had a lot to deal with," Dal said and cursed silently. He had spent so much time palling around with those two on market days, it was only natural for the Andals to question them about him. He pulled away from Deidre. “We’ve got to free them.”

  “One thing at a time, young Dalziel.”

  Dal jerked up. Hadrian was standing in front of the fire. He had taken off the bandage, and there was no sign of the wound on his shoulder. “I would think our first order of business is to check on your mother.” Dal fumed at himself. His mother was only family he had left, and he wanted to go to his friends first.

  “You’re right, Hade,” he said. Deidre was staring at Hadrian as if she’d seen a ghost.

  Even Dal could tell what she was thinking as Hadrian said, “All will be explained in due time, lass, so get a good night’s sleep. We leave right before dawn.”

  Mulbar surveyed the farm with disgust. He had taken his ten best riders and scoured the countryside, realizing now that this had been a mistake. Those rebels had a larger force than he thought, and he never should have split up his men.

  But an old vendor at the market had told him who Dalziel was and where he lived. He had been a tough old bastard, and it had taken a threat to kill his wife to get the information out of him. Once he cracked, Mulbar killed both of them anyway. Hearing the old man sobbing as he murdered his wife had been music to Mulbar’s ears. He and ten men then went to the farm to burn it to the ground and kill the boy.

  He had let his bloodlust get the best of him again. Intent on finding and killing that boy, he had made a crucial mistake. Now ten of his best-trained mounted soldiers were dead, no small matter. Mulbar cringed. Wulf would be displeased at such a waste of resources. That would not be good for him, not at all. If Mulbar ever wanted to kill Ibernians at random again, he had to make short work of these rebels.

  He stared at the carnage. How did this happen? Men lay all over the place. The horses had fared no better. For the others, it was as if the earth had opened up and swallowed them whole. He spit. Dark magic. When he got his hands on those Druids, he would shed every ounce of magical blood in their bodies.

  “Sir, what are your orders?” his new Number One asked him.

  “Ride back to Lord Wulf as fast as you can, and tell him I’ve found the rebels. Request a larger force so that I may deal with them.”

  Mulbar watched him ride off toward Dunster. Oh, yes, the Druids will regret this day.

  ELEVEN

  “I was worried about you,” Dal said as he hugged his mother. Hadrian and Deidre kept a respectful distance. “I had to be sure the Andals hadn’t somehow found you.” He took a deep breath. “Deidre’s family is dead, and the farm is destroyed. I’m not sure about ours. I’m going to take you with us, but you have to stay here for a bit longer. Pad and Curran are in trouble because of me, and I have to help them or I’m sure they’ll be killed too.”

  “I don’t have a problem with what you did in the market after, after what happened…Soren, but what I do not want is for you to put yourself intentionally in harm’s way. I lost a husband to these troubles and now a son. I won’t lose you, too.” Her teary eyes searched him, as if pleading.

  “You won’t lose me, Ma, I’ll be safe with Hadrian. He’s an even more powerful Druid than I thought. He killed the Andals who burned Deidre’s farm, like it was nothing.” With all that had happened, the last thing he wanted to tell her was that he feared their farm was also destroyed.

  “I see,” she replied. There was a long pause. “Well, I want to have a talk with Hadrian.” Before Dal could respond, she went over to him and Deidre. She talked to him for a while and then Deidre came over to Dal.

  “What was she talking to Hade about?” Dal asked Deidre in a low voice.

  “I couldn’t hear much.”

  “You were standing right next to them.” He didn’t care if he sounded peeved.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Try me.”

  “She said something about your rushing into danger and Hadrian being responsible for it. She also wanted to go back to the farm.”

  He was about to break in on the conversation between his mother and Hade when they began a fiery exchange. It ended as fast as it had started, and both charged over to where Dal and Deidre were standing. His mother looked ready to take on the Andal Empire; Hadrian simply looked the image of a beaten man.

  “I have agreed to stay here for the time being,” Dal’s mother said, “and Hadri
an has agreed to keep you safe.” Hadrian looked as if he’d eaten a toad.

  Dal and his mother hugged. “Take care, Son. Dio protect you.” Dal saw that she was on the verge of tears. He looked away so she wouldn’t see him choking up, but not because he was leaving her. He was ecstatic she wasn’t going back to the farm, because if it had been burned to the ground as he was fairly certain was the case, he didn’t think she could handle it and it would break her for good. Hade had obviously won that struggle, but he could see in the man’s face the toll it had taken. He had thought he knew everything about his mother, but he now realized he was wrong. And he was very proud of her.

  The three said a final goodbye and headed toward Quork. Once they cleared the woods, Hadrian muttered, “That woman, she has more spirit than she knows what to do with.” Dal had to let out a belly laugh, if only a short one.

  They walked for several hours in silence, each clearly lost in his or her own thoughts. They stayed in the woods, not taking any chances, since Andal patrols would be spread out and more frequent because of the soldiers they lost at the farm, making traveling in the open fields no longer possible.

  While still quite a way from Quork, they came to a small clearing in the woods and Hadrian halted their tiny procession. “This is as good a place as any to stop for breakfast,” he said.

  Dal said, “Shouldn’t we keep going? Pad and Curran could be getting tortured right now.”

  “No, I think not. Those boys will hold up, but none of us will without some food. Besides, you should never rescue people on an empty stomach. Bad for the constitution, lad.” He chuckled. Dal didn’t know what to make of him. A few hours ago Hadrian had been pierced by an arrow; now he was joking about breakfast. The life of a Druid certainly was strange.

  Hadrian whispered something in Deidre’s ear, and she said, “I’m going to hunt us some breakfast,” and walked off, leaving the two men alone.