The Secret of Azuron (The Sword Empire Book 1)

by J. R. Kearney

  "Jema speaks little of the Empire, I myself have not seen the city since the days of the Dragon concord. Since that alliance was broken I haven't given the Pale City much favor, especially since they trained mages to wield magic with no admonition. I praise Anduniel for avoiding concurrence with their Emperor. This city was once under Imperial rule before the Nelroar pass was overrun, and look what has become of it. Their sights have since turned to Corcadia, for which we still find ourselves embroiled."

  "The enemy be entertained indeed to see our people war with each other so pointlessly. I must say I loathe to take ye sword to the bosom of the Empire, one that has waged war on my lands for too long," Brom argued.

  "For all their foils there is no safer place," said Vhalen, "and there is no greater vault than within their walls."

  Brom appeared agitated, though not from the tight squeeze of his bench and table.

  "To think all this evil waitin’ for us be the result of one pissed off god," he consumed the rest of Hal's untouched ale. "We carry a mighty prize wizard. What if this weapon were to fall into the wrong hands?"

  "Keep your tongue," Vhalen whispered. "It is not wise in the city of thieves to announce our valuables, for men would think it of wealth. This quest relies on more than just avoiding the enemy, and I do not mean dryads and other creatures of nature. If others were to learn of the power we carry, it will be to our detriment. Be careful where your voice carries."

  Vhalen was clearly upset, though Brom could hardly contain his booming voice. They stared precariously at their surrounding patrons, all whose gaze held deception, whether they eavesdropped or not.

  Up in his room Sam was disheartened to find himself cleaning Jema's equipment, despite his mentor denouncing his training, his role of squire continued. The remnants of the storm remained embedded in their armors, dirt and grass had tunneled their way into obscure crevices, and their boots were painted thick with mud.

  Both sat cross-legged on the floor leaning against their beds, as Sam attempted to keep Landau in good spirits regaling in his training.

  "Then David tries it, he wedges his sword into the crab and lifts it, instead it slides down the blade and grabs his finger with its claw, and I mean grabs it," he laughs. "David drops his sword, swearing all sorts of names as Michael’s trying to pull it off, but this thing is just digging its claw in tighter right, this thing won't budge. So we cut off its claw, but it’s still rooted to his finger. Suddenly Master Rowan comes over, starts yelling 'what are you up to?' David hides his hand behind his back, worried he'll get in trouble, so he walks back to the palace the whole way with this claw attached to his finger, just sweating in the winter breeze. They get there and Rowan introduces him to his daughter, 'this is my squire David', goes to shake his hand, and he presents her this bloody hand, with this claw still - " Sam laughed with Landau. "She's screaming in horror, starts yelling at her dad," he finished in a constant snicker. "Those guys will one day be knights," he said amused.

  Landau enjoyed a long awaited laugh for he relished Sam's company.

  "Did you ever adventure together, outside the city?"

  "No not together. The other guys haven't journeyed much beyond the city wall, though Michael came here once. Must admit I never thought it would be as he described it, can't say Julia would be too happy that I'm here."

  "Why not?"

  "It's a long story," he frowned. "Another six years and you might begin to understand it", his quip went unnoticed. "Julia's the kind of girl who's very protective, jealous you might say. If she saw me with that dryad as you described it, she would've been angry rather than worried. Sometimes I feel like all I do is apologize when I see her, not like it used to be," he said in a change of mood.

  "I met Julia I don't think I told you, working in the stables," he told Sam.

  "Yeah that's where we first met, though I'm sure she told you, she likes to tell a lot of people."

  "I was just asking her if she'd seen you, she told me what happened in the harbor."

  Sam smiled and cringed at the same time. "Yeah I feel awful. I turned a blind eye to you that day, I think I was just so overwhelmed to see her again and spend some time with her…now here I am," he joked. "But I swore to Jema I wouldn't do that again, especially now."

  "I know I must feel like a hassle sometimes," Landau admitted. "I'm sure you'd rather be down at the tavern with the other guys."

  "I have no ambition to squander my future in places like this kid. I doubt I'll earn such accolades giving my day to the drink," he said with cheer. "Squires aren't allowed to - "

  Abruptly the conversation ended when their balcony window crashed inward. Landau shuddered when three leather clad bandits forced their way inside, the debris knocked Sam in the head and rendered him motionless on the floor, while one man grabbed a chair and wedged it against the knob of the door. Landau shuffled his back to the wall before the bandits towered over him with sinister interest.

  "Allo little boy," one said threateningly, pulling Landau to his feet with one violent heave. "Word is you got a treasure with ya, we'd be taking it from ya if ya please," he snarled.

  "Please, I have no treasure," he pleaded, the bandit thrust Landau's back to the wall and he cried in mercy.

  "Don't be brave with us son. We ‘eard that brute downstairs talk of ya treasure. Don't think we won't hurt little children."

  Every word was spewed from his mouth, his rancid breath scorned Landau's face and his merciless grip had him helpless to their whim. He could not hold his tears while the bandit's eyes scowled at him, his threat was very real, and Sam was helpless on the floor to do anything.

  "Look!" another bandit uttered, sifting through Landau's belongings. From out of his bag he retrieved the Vallara stone.

  All three bandits grinned in excitement of their newfound wealth. Outside his door a repeated thud blared, though the chair wedged against the door was secure. The bandit released Landau to hold the glowing gem, he fell gasping for breath, his face red in terror.

  "Would ya look at that," he grinned with fewer teeth than most.

  "Them's worth more than those diamonds we stole I say," said another in a rough tongue.

  "Get ya some top quality wenches with that," the other laughed, "no more of them bog standard sheilas."

  Alas the bandits weren't content with one treasure, their leader returned to grab Landau and hoist him to the wall once more.

  "Alright boy, where's the real treasure?"

  "That's it, I swear," he cowered, but his response only provoked the bandit to garner his dagger.

  "You'll regret yaw lies," he threatened, moving the dagger closer to his throat.

  Landau writhed and yelled in helplessness when from the balcony a fourth bandit crashed in, only he grabbed the neck of another bandit and launched him clear off the balcony, and quickly delivered a hard elbow to the nose of the other, which forcefully whipped his head to the ground. Landau's attacker swung his dagger swiftly towards this man, but with ease he snatched the bandit’s wrist, and broke his arm in unnatural fashion. The bandit screamed in agony to the floor, before the stranger clutched his shirt and delivered a ruthless fist to his head, enough to knock him unconscious. Landau panted, unsure whether to thank the man or fear him more.

  He revealed his face, one that Landau had seen not long ago, back in Merchant's Wall, his thick black horse-shoe moustache he remembered vividly. Before either could speak the door erupted with a violent barge from Jema's boot, with no hesitation Lyeanna fired her prepared arrow at the stranger who unsheathed his broad-sword just high enough to repel the blow. Landau went from worried to amazed, the stranger surrendered his sword and raised his hands.

  "Amazons always aim for the heart," the man proclaimed.

  Jema lowered Lyeanna's bow, with a devastated stare he fronted the man, he had no words prepared for this encounter, but it was apparent Jema recognized him, yet still in confusion he muttered his name.

  "Stryka?"

  The n
ight enveloped the town with ensuing darkness, the citizens that littered the streets and alleys soon felt the chill of the mountain unbearable and moved to the warmth of a fire. The candle-lit lanterns throughout the city began to extinguish, and disgruntled the keeper of the flames who prepared his long torch once more to re-ignite them, though there was no wind. The guards casually strolled the battlement course where the icy prick of the mountain air was sharp. They wrapped their cloaks around their necks for added comfort, though little reprieve did it offer in the nighttime draft. Though most eyes were poised to the city, few peered outside to the empty fields where the moonlight offered little brightness.

  Through the silhouette of the Faulkham forest a fog emerged to compliment the cold, slithering north through the trees it slowly shrouded any vision of the woodland, and the guards groaned in their exhaustive conditions. From upon his balcony Vhalen continued to puff at his pipe, turning a cautious eye to the curious weather.

  Stryka stared into Jema's eyes with some regret. Adorning an aketon he bore the resemblance of a mercenary. He was slightly shorter than Jema though considerably younger and solidly built, with muscles of a maiden's fantasy, and faded scars engraved in his skin. His wiry hair was ebony, and his eyes were tough and unforgiving, his was not a face to be patronized. Lyeanna attended to Sam before Jema confronted his old acquaintance, though his sword remained unsheathed.

  "What brings you here?" he asked.

  "Your allies need to be more mindful of what they speak, the ears of this city bleed for knowledge of anything of value."

  "You don't seem surprised to see me," Jema noted. "How were you aware of our company?"

  "That's the guy I saw in Merchant's Wall," Landau interrupted hesitantly to which Jema peered furiously at Stryka.

  "You've been following us? After our last meeting this is how you would reveal yourself?"

  "I have not been following you old friend."

  His sentence forced Jema to raise his sword to Stryka's torso, though the mercenary did not wane.

  "Remove your sword from your side before you call me a friend," Jema spat out, with no reluctance Stryka untied his sheath from his belt and his sword fell to the ground. He raised his hands in surrender once more but almost in jest, Landau discerned the pair had a history and apparent was its irresolution.

  "Explain yourself!"

  The guards upon the city wall were at attention, for the heavyset fog acted very strange. It continued to drive north from the forest yet didn’t penetrate the city, nor pass over it, instead it surrounded them, drifting beneath the exterior battlements like a misty pool. The neighboring lands were now obscured, and beyond the fog the guards could only discern darkness.

  One of the guards reached his hand to caress the fog, for it appeared curious indeed, the cooling touch embraced his hand and arm, before it ensnared him in a fierce grip that pulled him into the foggy abyss. The tower guard rung the bells with ferocity, it was an alarm that rang loud throughout the city, and sent the citizens into an unsettled panic.

  The clanging of the bells did not go unnoticed in the room. Before Jema could turn to Lyeanna to identify the commotion Halwende burst through giving no heed to Stryka to grab his belongings.

  "The city is under attack!" he yelled, and Jema was forced to abandon the mercenary. Instead he hurried to escort Landau outside before retrieving Raminus in his room and securing his supplies. No answers were given to what threat awaited them, only the resounding clamor of the bells suggested danger.

  The corridors were a mess of panic, people couldn't decide whether to run or hide or witness the peril, the fellowship struggled to penetrate the crowd, yet forced their way outside to determine the unknown threat. From the second tier they noticed the fog poke from behind the battlements like a dancing fire of white, from the north to the south it enveloped the city.

  BOOM…BOOM… the eastern gate pounded and barely held, and the impact trembled through the very ground. An attempt on the western gate quickly followed with as much eruption, and reinforcements ran to secure it from whatever lay beyond.

  "Vhalen, what is this knavery?" asked Halwende, for all stood there in disbelief of the danger. Before he could make an assumption the tendrils of fog that traipsed above the wall ignited, the frosty shade of white mist now radiated an infernal red, and a large fireball catapulted over the wall, charging into the warehouses on the bottom tier in a mass explosion.

  Landau clung tightly to Jema, his fear paramount in the destruction. Within the fog a chorus of howls and grunts soured the charred air.

  BOOM…BOOM… the thumping of the walls grew louder.

  "Come, we must make for the castle. It is the safest option!" Jema yelled, securely grabbing Landau's arm.

  "No!" a voice contested. Jema turned to find the mercenary among them, his presence lingered still. "There is no escape from that castle, you'll be leading these people to their doom," he shouted.

  "I don't have time for you Stryka, our concerns are not yours," the name quickly resonated with Vhalen. Jema moved his fellows to the stairs of the upper level, when another fireball engulfed a pocket of houses along the western wall, instantly forcing wooden debris to fly like arrows from its impact, as the fire incinerated everything around it.

  The mercenary charged before Jema, halting him where he stood.

  "There is a tunnel under the city, it can lead us outside, beyond all this. There is no safe place here," he spoke as calmly as his raised voice could manage. Jema dismissed it, though Vhalen was quick to offer his argument.

  "Jema we should take this road."

  "No!" he spoke determined.

  BOOM…BOOM…

  The pounding of the eastern gates jolted the foundations once more, and the guards who propped against it were shoved to the ground. The snapping of redwood cracked loud with each blow, the villainous fog came ever closer to puncturing the gates, and their howls were wild and unruly.

  "Do not let your emotions get the better of you here!" Vhalen spoke to his ear.

  "What's happenin’ ‘ere? We need to move!" Brom yelled.

  The rest of the fellowship waited anxiously, unaware of this mercenary or where they were to head, even Raminus among them grew restless. Jema's bottom lip retreated inside with frustration, he turned to Stryka with much contempt.

  "Where is this tunnel?"

  "Follow me."

  With uncertainty the company followed the mercenary down to the bottom level, guards upon the rampart shot aimlessly their crossbows upon the enemy unknown, but the fog reached to ensnare them with ghostly tendrils and pull them from the walls above.

  BOOM…BOOM…

  Stryka charged across the market square through a crowd of panicked townsfolk towards the western gate where the 'Withered Banner' Tavern burnt in the debris of the warehouse. Bodies of the deceased lay sprawled across the streets, and the wounded were helpless to their injuries, though what few guards remained ran to the gates to forbid the unearthly threat entry, barring them for as long as they could manage.

  Another fireball lobbed across the Bruna canopy for all to pause and notice, for it hurled high into the sky before it plummeted deep into the castle walls on the third tier, and within seconds every window soon expelled its harsh flame. Landau peered in fright, they would have been among the casualties, instead this Stryka led them to the southern wall, to a house behind a brothel, kicking the locked door inward to reveal an empty house covered in dust and broken furniture. With haste he dragged the bed from its corner, and removed the rug beneath it to reveal a trapdoor, barely large enough for Brom to fit through. One by one they hurried down a ladder of awkward sized planks, and descended below to a dark underground cavern.

  BOOM…BOOM…BOOM… the gates pounded violently and hysterically, like thunder the impact unsettled their balance on the ladder. Stryka was the last to descend, and closed the door above him as the western gate collapsed, and the fog charged through the now burning city.

  A faint
rumble echoed from the ground above while everyone took breath, they remained still, in fear of alerting the enemy, but their hesitancy would not last.

  "What brings such evil to these lands?" Stryka wondered.

  "That be no villain Jema," Brom further interrogated. "That be an army. We be ill equipped to fight such devilry."

  "You brought this?" the mercenary glared at him. "How is it you brought this upon the city?"

  "There's no time to make sense of it. We cannot dwell here, we must move quickly," was his reply.

  Vhalen whispered into his staff like kindling a flame when a light soon emanated from its apex, enough to reveal a narrow tunnel that led further downward. Stryka grabbed an unlit torch from a sconce on the cave wall and wedged it within his belt, for Vhalen's light sufficed for now, and together they shared the lead.

  "Where do these tunnels go?" said Halwende.

  "These are bandit tunnels, used for smuggling and illegal trade. Be on your guard, we may not be alone down here. There are several exits that lead to the outskirts of town, I will take us to the farthest one, perhaps not far enough to elude this danger, but it is a way out nonetheless"

  "How do you know of these tunnels?" Jema asked accusingly.

  "Through intimidation," he replied, and a man who threatened bandits left Landau to ponder Stryka's avocation.

  "Are you alright Landau?" Samson whispered to him, his head bruised and red from his fall. Though Landau’s mind was weighted with troubles and guilt, he suffered no injuries of his own. He was hesitant to speak with the enemy only meters above them, and nodded to indicate he was okay.

  "We have no choice in taking sanctuary here," said Stryka. "It won't be long ‘til that enemy learns of these tunnels. We must leave this place and with haste."

  "It will be two days before we can reach the Nettleborn bridge, and that's without the aid of our horses," Jema stated with some sadness.

  "We will mourn for them later if we can. But the road east gives less reprieve, west is our best hope," said Vhalen.