The Rise of Kings (The Flameweaver's Prophecy Book 1)

by Emery, Ben

  ‘Against great numbers,’ Vedeon explained, ‘you will need fear on your side. Men do not fear the light.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Jaxon breathed, running his thumb up the length of one of his new swords.

  ‘They are without an emblem,’ the Wandeer observed. ‘When you think of one, I will engrave it for you. Now, are you going to try it on?’

  The soldiers obliged, and could not believe their own senses. The armour fitted perfectly, allowing every movement to be fluid and unhindered. What was more; it was all so incredibly weightless, as though they were wearing armour of fabric, not solid metal.

  ‘I know it feels as though there is nothing to it,’ Vedeon said as they donned their new equipment, taking practice swings and thrusts with sword and spear. ‘But it will withstand anything that is thrown at you. Anything not made by a Wandeer, that is.’ He turned to the behemoth, ‘I am certain it could even withstand an attack from you!’

  The Ironhand grinned, and looked around at the rest of the group expectantly, as though someone would volunteer to be a training dummy.

  ‘We’ll take your word for it,’ Jaxon said.

  ‘Thank you, Vedeon,’ Galarus steered the conversation in another direction as he began to remove the armour. ‘We are truly grateful for the gift. Now we must see about getting to Crimstone as quickly as possible.’

  ‘The island is still two and a half weeks away,’ Vedeon replied. ‘But I have spoken to Tuugan, and he has agreed to take us on his ship. When you wish to leave, we should make it there within five days.’

  ‘We can set out tomorrow?’ Galarus was eager not to waste any time. Every day they idled was another day Rural’s plan went uninterrupted.

  ‘I will inform the captain. Make sure you are ready early on; I will require your help transferring my wares to the ship, and Tuugan will not be happy about being kept waiting.’

  The following morning, the soldiers, as they had agreed, assisted Vedeon in carrying his goods down to the ship; half a dozen large crates filled with arrows, for sale to the Count of Crimstone, as well as the golden armour destined for Count Dondillis. Dressed in their new equipment, they took with them their armour of the Legion, for what purpose each of them had yet to decide. Wearing the same garb as a soon-to-be-invading army would certainly not be well received.

  The Farewind sat, as calmly as ever, in the sheltered cove of Wan’Dring, Tuugan already aboard and awaiting their arrival.

  ‘Are you sure you know what you are doing, Flameweaver?’ the captain addressed Vedeon as he boarded.

  The smith nodded curtly in response.

  ‘Very well. Isella too?’

  Vedeon nodded again as his daughter followed him aboard, the whole exchange lost upon the soldiers that overheard it.

  ‘To Crimstone, then.’ Tuugan moved on, heading toward the rear of the ship as the crates were stowed below deck.

  The Wandeer captain guided his vessel on a course much closer to the mainland than the island, and it was possible for his passengers to track their progress along the southeast coast of Banmer. Once beyond the reaches of the Blacksand Desert, and the southernmost lands of Auprem, the Farewind came into sight of the base of the Burnished Coast; the stretch of red-stone cliffs that marked the eastern-most point of land, upon which Crimstone, and, further north, Gerder, sat. It took them only two and half days to reach this point, Tuugan apparently able to guide the ship in his sleep.

  Once the bronze coloured rock face was alongside them, Vedeon gathered the soldiers around himself and Isella. The Tideturner remained at his usual position at the aft.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Placatas asked.

  The Wandeer help up a hand to silence him.

  ‘You must never repeat what I am about to tell you,’ he began. ‘There are those in this world that would do terrible things to learn of what I speak, and the very knowledge of it may put you in danger. That being said, I fear your not knowing would do greater harm still.’

  He took a deep breath before continuing.

  ‘The Wandeer are not of your world, despite what some believe. As I understand it, there are stories that trace our lineage back to the shamans of the Old North; this is not the case. Our race is far older than any legend your people tell. Wan’Dring is more than just an island, it is a shard of our homeland; a world beyond the reaches of yours, to the west, beyond the Fog Banks.’ The soldiers listened, enraptured, as Vedeon spoke. ‘A thousand years ago, some time before the Scouring, an…’ he looked down the deck of the Farewind to Tuugan; the captain was staring at him, but said nothing.

  ‘A…darkness…came to your world, from ours; a darkness that even the Wandeer fear,’ the Flameweaver continued. ‘Its arrival sparked the Wars of the Faithful that tore this land apart. When the victory of the Pious seemed inevitable, this darkness returned to our world, with armies of mankind, and waged a second war against us. The few that came to Banmer with Wan’Dring were the refugees of that war; the last survivors of the last Wandeer outpost.’

  ‘How is that possible?’ Jaxon interrupted. ‘The Wandeer are almost gods here.’

  Vedeon visibly shuddered at the term. ‘Our power was of no use against this darkness, and without it we could not stand up to the ferocity of the armies of men. When the Elders saw what had become of Banmer, how the Wars of the Faithful had all but destroyed your world, they chose to act, in a manner they feel will never be forgiven.’

  ‘The Scouring?’ Galarus asked.

  Vedeon nodded, almost shamefully. ‘The unmaking of the Old World.’

  ‘You?’ Placatas was aghast. ‘The Wandeer killed hundreds of thousands of innocent people!’

  ‘Civilisations crumbled,’ Vedeon agreed, ‘but mankind survived. It is well we preserved your humanity, for your wars and the armies of the darkness would have extinguished all of it.’

  Placatas looked unconvinced by this argument, but the smith ignored him and continued.

  ‘The Elder Stormbrewer, an exceptionally powerful Wandeer named Vanneus, made his home on what is now known as the Thundering Islands, and from there created the Fog Banks; an impenetrable barrier that shields all of Banmer from the eyes of those beyond. It is under this protection that you and your ancestors were able to establish the world you know today, and thanks to the Elders that you are even alive to appreciate it.’ None of the soldiers looked particularly grateful, but Vedeon seemed to care little. ‘But Vanneus is weakening in his old age, and the Fog Banks are beginning to thin. It will not be long before the darkness sets its sights upon this world again. The prophecy dictates that a king must unite all the people of Banmer to ensure its survival. Rural believes this to be his destiny. I believe it to be yours, General.’

  There was a stunned silence that hung heavily in the air as each digested these words.

  ‘I’m not a king,’ Galarus managed.

  ‘Neither was Rural, nor the First-Kings, before they took that title for themselves. Kings are no longer born, General; they are made.’

  ‘Why are you telling us all this now?’ Placatas asked.

  ‘Because it is time you knew. Terran gave his life for you in an attempt to make the other Wandeer see as he did. It is also why I face exile now.’

  ‘You’ve been exiled?’ Attais piped up.

  ‘Of course,’ Vedeon replied. ‘Elder Lanoan does not take kindly to our history being revealed to mankind. There would be panic, and aggression, and the Wandeer would be condemned, even hunted, for their actions all those centuries ago.’

  ‘And Isella?’ Coran asked concerned.

  ‘If it is alright with you, General, my daughter and I would like to accompany you for the remainder of your journey.’

  ‘You’ll fight with us?’ Galarus was taken aback by the offer.

  Vedeon nodded.

  ‘Of course; you are welcome for as long as you wish,’ the General agreed readily. After all, how many people in the world could say they had a pair of Wandeer fighting on their side?<
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  Their journey from that point onward was both easy and uneventful, and, given the fodder for conversation Vedeon’s revelations had provided them with, it passed quickly. On the morning of the fifth day, the cliff-top keep of Crimstone became visible against the grey-blue skyline. The ruddy rock dominated much of their view, as small waves spluttered at its base. As they neared the coastline, a wealth of activity became visible. Below the walls of the keep, hanging from the cliff face itself, was a webbed network of suspended wooden walkways that criss-crossed their way down to the ocean. Upon the water, broad wooden rafts, secured to the stone, served as a harbour for fishing and trade boats, of which there seemed to be plenty. Several pulley systems, operated from the solid ground above, hoisted cargoes up and down the cliff, to and from the bobbing vessels. The wall of red rock itself was severely pockmarked, and home to the nests of countless birds that arced and wheeled above the walkways and the men working beneath.

  Tuugan eased the Farewind into an available gap against one of the wooden rafts, hopping over board to secure the boat with a length of thick rope. The gangplank was lowered, and the soldiers carried Vedeon’s wares down and onto the unsteady makeshift port. It was an unnerving feeling, having the ground shift beneath their feet so freely. Due to the busy nature of Crimstone’s coastal traders, and the fact that there was already an extensive queue before they had arrived, the group were forced to wait some time for one of the pulleys to become free enough for all of them and their equipment to fit on. The fishermen and merchants around them eyed them cautiously; it was not every day that seven heavily armed warriors in black armour arrived in the Free Cities, much less soldiers serving as pack mules for a Wandeer.

  Eventually, they were able to gain access to Crimstone proper. As the pulley-operated platform reached the top of the cliff, the soldiers were able to catch their first sight of the town. Despite being counted as one of the Free Cities, Crimstone was not large enough to be called a city, particularly when compared to the central metropolis of Meddas, or the northern Metal City of Gerder. The market into which they stepped was enclosed by the outer walls of the town’s keep, in a broad, semicircular courtyard that ringed the stronghold itself, which was protected by a further inner wall, and sat upon a section of the cliffs that jutted into the Outer Sea. Despite the disparity between Crimstone’s size and that of its allies, it did, however, possess an advantage that no other nation in all of Banmer did: archers. Unparalleled in their ability or their number, the eastern-most City’s army of two thousand men was comprised entirely of archers. A force to be reckoned with, that, when not in service, manned the walls and streets of Crimstone to serve as town guards.

  The courtyard was as chaotic as the market square in Caldoa, with competing traders and merchants clamouring for sufficient space and advertising as loudly as possible the superiority of their produce. Only those closest to them paid any attention to the soldiers, and only then with fleeting glances of interest or surprise. All others seemed to be focused on the cacophony of business.

  ‘Vedeon!’ a voice called from across the courtyard, someone having recognised the Wandeer.

  One of the Crimstone guards strode confidently through the throng of salesmen and customers, the crowds parting for him as he did so. His hair was a mess of dark waves and as he approached and a quick smile appeared through a thick beard. He wore a worn suit of padded leather armour over a red shirt, the image of a red fox emblazoned upon his chest. A short sword hung in its scabbard from his belt, and a huge, unstrung bow sat in a quiver on his back, amid a full complement of arrows.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you for another week or so!’

  ‘It is good to see you again, Miran,’ Vedeon greeted the archer.

  ‘And Isella!’ Miran turned to the smith’s daughter. ‘Looking as radiant as ever.’

  ‘Thank you, Captain,’ Isella replied shyly.

  Miran returned his attention to Vedeon, as he eyed the soldiers behind them cautiously.

  ‘Unusual for you to bring bodyguards.’ His eyes roved over the unmarred black armour, and the weapons each of them carried, lingering in particular on the behemoth.

  ‘Miran, this is General Galarus, formerly of the Caldoan Legions. He wishes to speak to the Count.’

  The archer looked surprised at first, but regained his composure quickly.

  ‘An honour to meet you, General,’ he said, offering his hand as he did so.

  Galarus shook it. The Captain was shorter than he by several inches, but his upper body was powerfully built. Enormous, even. His chest and arms would not have looked out of place on the body of the behemoth, and a thick leather bracer covered his left forearm as far as the wrist.

  ‘We’ve had word from several of our traders returning from beyond the mountains. Seems like it’s quite the situation you’re in.’

  ‘Can you take us to see the Count?’ Galarus replied, ignoring the comment.

  Miran nodded. ‘Follow me. I will have someone fetch your things.’ He whistled loudly and waved over another two guards, who began collecting up the Wandeer and soldiers’ belongings. ‘I don’t think the Count is busy this afternoon,’ the archer added. ‘He should be able to see you fairly soon.’

  He waved them forward, and led the group toward the keep. They passed through a gate in the inner wall, atop which were spread out even more archers, overlooking the market below. Each was dressed the same as Miran, and, from the look if it, each was just as sizeable. The courtyard they entered was far quieter than the bustling scene behind them, though the manic calls of merchants could still be heard quite clearly. Far fewer people milled around inside of the keep; it was obviously an area of restricted access to any but the servants of the Count and the archers on duty. As they entered the castle, however, the din beyond the walls drained away quickly, leaving an odd serenity, broken only by the occasional shriek of gulls that perched upon the sills outside the windows.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Count Aevan Brettar was a proud old man; proud of his home, of his men, and their reputation. Though many inhabitants of the larger of the Free Cities enjoyed jesting at the smaller size of Crimstone, his archers commanded respect wherever they went. With no other ranged units in the world as good as they, nor any on such a military scale, they were an army to be feared on the battlefield. And this made Count Brettar a happy man. What was more, for the first time in a long while they would get to see real combat.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Miran at the far end of the courtroom, in which the Count sat upon a broad-backed oaken chair. The captain of the City’s archers was accompanied by a group of people he did not recognise, though two of their number were obviously Wandeer, and one among them was clearly a giant of some sort.

  ‘Ah!’ the Count exclaimed as Miran led the others closer. ‘Vedeon, it is you! Damn my age, my eyes are getting worse! We weren’t expecting you ‘til next week.’

  ‘Circumstances have changed somewhat, my lord,’ Vedeon replied graciously, tipping his head in deference.

  ‘My lord,’ Miran spoke up to make introductions. ‘This is General Galarus, formerly of the Caldoan…’

  ‘Demon’s balls, man!’ the Count interrupted. ‘I know full well who the General is. I have yet to meet another person who hasn’t heard stories of the legendary Arkus Galarus!’

  Even this far east the Caldoan was well known, and heroic tales of his victories during the Incursions were just as reverently told by men of the Free Cities, though by none moreso than the pirates of Bannerbridge, who had long since had a common enemy in the Vahc.

  ‘Now, General,’ the Count continued, ‘what is it I can help you with? If it is refuge from your own people you seek, you are welcome here, though you hardly seem dressed for hiding.’

  ‘Quite the opposite, my lord,’ Galarus started to explain. ‘We have no intention of running from Rural.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Brettar grunted. ‘I wouldn’t call him king either.’

&nb
sp; ‘But there are many who do. Maeoraph and Alarum among them.’

  ‘Funny you should mention Maeoraph,’ the Count interrupted again. ‘Only yesterday I received word that the sandy bugger is marching on Auprem. The Cities have been summoned to Meddas, where our forces will join and march south together to its defence.’

  ‘That is the issue I was hoping to discuss with you, my lord.’ Galarus began to recall everything they had learnt so far for the benefit of the Count: the prophecy and Rural’s part in it; the defeat of the Tribes; the recruitment of the Vahc hordes and Blacksand warriors, and finishing with the strategy that they had overheard in Epi’s camp outside of Pawt.

  ‘So, you say the attack is a diversion?’ Brettar repeated Galarus’ last words after briefly considering all the information he had been given. ‘You appear to have arrived with perfect timing, General. We leave for Meddas in the morning. You and your company will join us. You’ll need to repeat for the others what you have just told me. Enjoy what little hospitality we can offer to you tonight. Miran will take care of you for now.’

  From Brettar’s courtroom, the archer led the group into the northern wing of the castle, and up a spiralling staircase to the residential area of the keep.

  ‘The Count always keeps a few rooms empty for guests,’ Miran explained. ‘And there’ll be a feast tonight, downstairs, in the main hall. The whole army is marching tomorrow, and Brettar likes to send the men off in a good fashion.’

  ‘The Count will lead the soldiers into battle?’ Placatas asked, curious.

  ‘Of course,’ Miran answered, as though any alternative was ridiculous. ‘Back in his day he was the best archer the Cities had. His aim isn’t so great any more, but he’s a damn fine commander.’ The archer opened a door to his left, revealing a short corridor. ‘All these rooms are yours,’ he waved a hand down the hallway. ‘Take your pick. I will have your things brought up. In the mean time, feel free to wander about the town and leave your armour and weapons up here. You will not need them, I assure you.’