The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  Marius Cyclone, who’d gone a little way into the trees, returned, and took a long look back across the rugged plains to the Silver Dawn. His eyes moved slowly, but seemed to take in everything within view. I joined him, suddenly aware of how small we appeared, skulking in a forest, within sight of the hold’s enormous stone walls. It was like a deep slice of Eastron might, cutting through the Pure Lands.

  “So when will the world end?” I asked. “And to where can you flee?”

  “Two very good questions,” he replied, without looking at me. “One far easier to answer than the other.” He straightened, scratching at the blue tattoo on his neck. “To answer the first… well, somewhere to the south, across the Sea of Stars, there lies a city. The Sea Wolves call it the Sunken City. The Pure Ones call it R’lyeh. It’s a tomb of sorts, but the dead thing within still dreams. One of those dreams broke the glass of the Severed Hand, and killed half the Sea Wolves.” He still wouldn’t look at me. “It’s a god… though I barely understand what that means. I certainly don’t understand how long it takes to wake up from death. If you pressed me, as to your first question… I’d say soon.”

  His quiet sincerity, and unwavering posture, gave his words significant weight. The power he spoke of was responsible for the rotten wyrd of Trego Cyclone and Alexis Wind Claw, as well as the unnatural cataclysm that had befallen the Sea Wolves. By extension, this Waking God sought to deny me my birthright. Part of me wanted to scream at the injustice. Another part was disappointed in the Dark Brethren, and how easily they’d bent their knee to a god. But Marius was Dark Brethren, and his motivations clearly lay elsewhere.

  “And running away?” I asked. “It seems to me, that if the world is to end, the only place to run… is to a different world.”

  “That’s the easier answer,” he said, with a slight curl at the edge of his mouth. “Easier to say, harder to explain.” He kept scanning the horizon, with the occasional glance over his shoulder, to the exhausted group of Eastron behind him. “For now, we need to find the Rykalite before the void legionnaires find us.”

  I straightened, wanting to contribute something. “I have been told that one cannot break the glass outside of a hold. Will this not work to our advantage?”

  He smiled at me. “You’ve been told?” he asked with a chuckle. “Perhaps a prince’s education is useful after all. Well, partially. We can break the glass out here, but we shouldn’t. Long ago, spirit-masters cleared anything nasty from the void of our holds. Not so out here. Pure Ones commune with powerful spirits, and they don’t understand us, and they don’t like us.”

  “So the void legionnaires are stuck in the realm of form?” I queried.

  He smiled again, nodding.

  “It’s a foot race,” I stated. “We should keep moving.”

  His smile remained, though I sensed he was not being deliberately condescending. Perhaps just glad that he and I, for now at least, thought alike. Gradually, he turned his eyes from me and towards the two Outrider Knights. “Straya, Toro,” snapped Marius. “Prince Oliver thinks we should keep moving. I agree. Minister Elizabeth, can you walk?”

  The envoy was the oldest amongst us, but stubbornly nodded her head and allowed Leofryc to help her to her feet. “If I collapse, would one of you be good enough to catch me?”

  Silver Jack joined the commander of Falcon’s Watch, and they led the envoy further into the trees. Rys was hefted upwards, and slung over Straya’s shoulder. She used wyrd to augment her strength, and carried the large Sea Wolf without slowing down. Lastly, Marius and I turned from the distant walls of the Silver Dawn, and made our way deeper into the Wood of Webs.

  *

  By the end of the first day, all I wanted was a bath. I wore nothing but a cotton shirt, with Brethren bloodstains still on it, and thick, canvas trousers, tucked into leather boots. I had no armour, not even a cloak, and my skin felt strange, like it was coated in a layer of grime. It was probably the longest I had ever been without bathing, and certainly the longest I’d been without a change of clothes. But whenever I felt like complaining, I looked at everyone else, and realized that most were here, lost in the Wood of Webs, because of me.

  We camped and slept, then camped and slept again. Both times there was a small fire, tended by Straya, and a meagre amount of dried pork, provided by Toro. Jack filled the time with questions about our journey, and how long we’d be moving north. Leofryc only cared that we were safe, spending his time patrolling ahead, and overseeing our nightly camp, all the time clutching his greatsword.

  The second time we awoke, it was to the sound of Rys Coldfire, growling at mid-air. The Wolf’s Bastard had regained consciousness during the night, and he sat against a tree trunk, clenching and unclenching his fists. His face was ashen, his eyes crusty and red, his fingernails bitten down to the quick, and a hoarse rumble flowed from his dry throat. We had water, collected in animal skins, but the Sea Wolf had not drunk. I imagined he’d woken hours ago, and just sat against the tree, furious at the empty air in front of him.

  Straya was by his side, checking his wounds and encouraging him to drink. Elizabeth Defiant, apparently in his debt, rushed to him, kept back only by Straya’s insistence.

  “Am I dead?” rumbled the Sea Wolf. “Do I stand before the Old Bitch of the Sea?” His eyes didn’t blink, or change focus, as if he was seeing something in the still air. “Once more for the Severed Hand.”

  Marius, Toro and Leofryc encircled our camp, making sure no one had snuck up on us during the night. Jack and I, so far spared such duties, were free to approach Rys Coldfire. The man’s wounds were now scars, criss-crossing his body. Straya had tended to him each day, using considerable wyrd to heal his broken body.

  “You’re alive,” said Elizabeth Defiant, clutching one of his trembling hands. “We escaped the Silver Dawn. That loathsome mercenary is dead.”

  He blinked and shook his head. He had little strength and no wyrd, and flapped at Straya to leave him alone. After a moment, he straightened, looking each of us in the face, and appearing to acknowledge his surroundings.

  “I thought I was stabbed in the heart,” he said, pulling open his red shirt and inspecting a gruesome scar across his chest.

  “Near the heart,” corrected the Outrider Knight. “And near the brain.” She inspected the side of his head, where a patch of open skull was visible through his hair. “You’re strong. You’ll heal.”

  Rys panted, and closed his eyes. “Prince Oliver,” he whispered. “You seem to be alive as well. Unless my mind has rebelled against me.”

  I took a knee next to him. “I live,” I replied. “Marius Cyclone saved my life.” I looked at the grateful envoy, still clinging to his hand. “As you did for Minister Elizabeth.”

  He didn’t open his eyes, or turn to the woman holding his hand, but he clung to her, and a tear rolled from his left eye. He was the strongest of Eastron, and a single tear from him meant a great deal.

  “I couldn’t save Lagertha,” he stated. “But I could save the envoy.”

  Elizabeth gulped, wiping tears from her face. “The young girl used all her wyrd at once. She sacrificed herself so we could flee the parliament.” She’d not spoken of her escape, as if reliving it when Rys was still unconscious was tempting fate.

  “The death of Lagertha Blood is no small thing,” I said, gently. “But she saved us as well. We were being overwhelmed, before she detonated her wyrd.”

  “She was a brave girl,” said Rys. “She wouldn’t let a Dark Brethren blade finish her. She ran at Alexis Wind Claw, trying to pull the bitch back to the ground. If void legionnaires hadn’t got in the way, she’d have killed her.” He kept his eyes closed, and his teeth gritted. His mouth moved rapidly, as if he was silently talking to himself, and I sensed he was making some kind of decision.

  “We’re a day and a half into the Wood of Webs,” I said, allowing time for Rys to mutter, Elizabeth to cry, and Straya to check her healing work. “Legionnaires will be after us.”


  “Are we travelling blind?” asked the Wolf’s Bastard, swallowing heavily. “Or do we have a destination? Because I am eager to return to the Severed Hand.”

  “Snake Guard,” offered Elizabeth. “It’s south and west of here. The Stranger assures us it is our best course.” She was far more out of her depth than even Jack and I, and had not questioned Marius.

  “What’s in Snake Guard?” asked the Sea Wolf, finally opening his bloodshot eyes. “More fucking Brethren?”

  I sat on the earth, next to the tree, locking eyes with him. “He says there’s something there I need to see,” I replied. “He says he wants to rescue the Eastron from something we can’t fight. If I am to be king, I should listen to him.”

  His glare was unnerving. There was an unshakeable certainty in his eyes, enough to make anyone doubt their own words. “The Sea Wolves don’t need to be fucking rescued,” stated the Wolf’s Bastard. “And there’s nothing we can’t fight.” He was growling, with saliva splattering his face. “Some fights you win, some fights you lose, but some fights need to be fought!”

  “Fuck off,” snapped Silver Jack. Oddly, it was the first thing he’d said since Rys woke up. “I hear pride, I hear arrogance, and I hear an angry Sea Wolf who nearly died. What’s wrong with being rescued? What’s wrong with running away? What’s wrong with living?”

  Elizabeth, Rys and I all stared at my guardian, but before any of us could chide him, swear back at him or threaten to kill him, there was a voice from the trees.

  “Prince Oliver,” shouted Marius Cyclone. “Best get moving. We won’t be alone here much longer.”

  “Ten minutes and they’ll be on us,” confirmed Toro, quickly returning to the camp. “Up and moving, now!”

  Straya helped Rys to his feet, and though his limbs creaked and he threw his head back in pain, it appeared he could walk, if only through stubbornness. Leofryc stamped out our nightly fire, and Marius ushered us all to the north-west.

  *

  My strength slowly returned. I’d never been so badly wounded, and was surprised at how empowering it was to feel my full reservoir of wyrd again. I’d always taken it for granted, like my inevitable ascension to king, but without it I was just a big lump, relying on others to keep me alive. I thought I’d learned much from my father, but clearly not all there was to know. The last week had been a harsh teacher, but it had shown me that a king and a leader needed far more than just a name.

  By noon, on the second full day from the Silver Parliament, Jack and I had healed as much as we were going to. Our quick pace, weaving through dense trees, a thick canopy and heavy mosses and brambles, took its toll on Elizabeth Defiant and Rys Coldfire, but we avoided those who pursued us. For a few minutes, around eleven o’clock, we could all hear armoured men somewhere in the trees. Straya and Toro ordered a halt, and eventually the sounds disappeared, allowing us to continue north-west. There was no conversation, and every tense moment flowed into the next.

  The eight of us were now significantly more dangerous than we’d been when we first escaped, with only Rys and Elizabeth unable to fight. The rest of us were armed with Brethren straight swords, and ready to meet anything that challenged us. I had to admit to myself, as we inched our way deeper into the woods, that a bit of me wanted a fight. It was the one thing I knew I was still good at. Every tree I pulled myself past, I imagined a void legionnaire appearing in front of me, or a squad of mercenaries who’d got lucky and found the prince.

  There was no chatter to occupy my mind, so I wondered how many warriors our group could defeat. Marius and the Outrider Knights had obscure wyrd, but they would be strong and reliable warriors. Leofryc, still clutching his greatsword, was the match of any four void legionnaires, though he’d need to use skill to manoeuvre his blade between the trees. Silver Jack, despite his manner, was still a duellist of First Port, and only a little less dangerous than Leofryc. And then there was me. I’d gradually moved forwards, until I was behind the Stranger’s shoulder, at the front of our group. If we were found, I wanted to be the first line of defence. I wanted to kill anyone who tried to attack us.

  “Hello, my old friend!” echoed a strange voice from the trees.

  I saw no one, but advanced anyway. The sword in my hand was an unfamiliar weapon, far too light for my taste, but it could still kill a man.

  “Prince Oliver, hold,” said Marius Cyclone.

  I ignored him and pushed on towards the voice. Days of helplessness had tightened my muscles and sharpened my senses, but I still saw no one through the dense mass of thick tree trunks. Leofryc followed behind my left shoulder, similarly unconcerned by the Stranger’s command.

  “Highness,” snapped Silver Jack, from behind Marius, clearly not alert enough to have followed me.

  Leofryc and I parted, finding as much space as we could amongst the brambles, fallen logs and trees. I held my blade low, stepping slowly through the brush, aware that the void legionnaires had not followed us.

  “Hold!” repeated Marius, just as a patch of leaves and twigs gave way beneath my feet.

  The world turned upside down, as I lost balance and tumbled forwards. The forest floor had been a well-constructed illusion, hiding a wide pit. The straight sword flew from my hand, as I used both arms to break my fall. Then I felt a resounding thud against my head and, for an instant, everything turned white and shiny.

  “My king!”

  “Prince Oliver!”

  I felt as if I was underwater, with all sound and sensation reduced to a dull echo. After a moment, I rolled over and realized I was sprawled amongst mud and rocks, at the bottom of a deep pit-trap. My head was bleeding, and I was badly winded, but neither was sufficient to dampen my embarrassment. Above me, through bleary eyes, I saw faces appear around the edge of the pit.

  “Okay?” asked Marius Cyclone, waving down at me.

  “My king, we’ll have you out of there in a moment,” added Leofryc, scanning the pit for an easy way down.

  Silence for a moment, as I stood gingerly, and leant on the sheer muddy sides of the pit. The trap had not been built for a man of my height, and escape would be relatively easy. I’d read of Pure One bush-craft, and was relieved that the Rykalite had chosen to line their trap with stones, rather than spikes.

  “Bloody hell,” grumbled Silver Jack. “Why did you run off?”

  “The voice,” I coughed. “I thought we were being attacked.”

  “What voice?” sneered Jack. “No one’s said anything in hours.”

  Leofryc had Marius hold his legs, as he leant over the edge of the pit and reached for me. We grasped forearms, and I hefted myself out of the hole, to tumble onto the forest floor.

  “Please don’t run off again, Eagle Prince,” said the Stranger. “If you’re hearing voices, check that the rest of us hear them before you act.”

  Silver Jack retrieved my sword and placed it next to my right hand. Straya checked on my head wound, while Toro remained alert, covering us all. Elizabeth was helping Rys, and they had not yet caught up with us. Despite a headache and some fuzzy vision, it occurred to me that my foolishness had placed us in significant danger.

  “I heard a voice,” I stated. “It said… hello, my old friend.”

  “Lord Marius, we are found,” said Toro, shouting over his bulky shoulder.

  Leofryc and Straya instantly drew blades and stepped away from me. Silver Jack pounced backwards, to assist the Sea Wolf and the envoy, drawing his own sword to protect them. I sat up and grasped the sword hilt at my hand, but was stopped by Marius Cyclone. He didn’t appear alarmed, and his knowing smile made me feel content to slump back down and nurse my wounded head.

  “Steady,” commanded the Stranger. “We are not found by enemies.”

  I pulled myself up, until I was seated, and scanned the encircling trees. Those at-arms had formed a vague perimeter around the pit-trap, but there was little chance of us repelling a significant attack.

  “My Lord Invader!” boomed a resonant voice. “Ide
ntify yourself.”

  It was clear that everyone had heard the voice, though it didn’t echo in the same way as the words that had made me run ahead. The trees made it impossible to locate the speaker, and my companions struggled to point their swords in every direction at once.

  “I’m here,” shouted Marius Cyclone. “We need help.”

  From the trees, appearing to melt out of every shadow, came Pure Ones, unlike any I’d ever seen. They had dusky brown skin and angular features, with long, straight hair. What set them apart was their armour and weaponry. The Rykalite had never learned to smelt and craft metal. It was unheard of amongst their kind. Lennifer High Heart called it the last great advantage we had over the natives. She’d written that wyrd was secondary to craft and skill, though these Pure Ones appeared not to have read her work. They wore banded-metal armour, primitive by the standards of Winterlord plate – but highly effective nonetheless – and heavy short swords, clearly modelled after Dark Brethren blades, though shorter and wider, no doubt designed for fighting in the dense forest.

  “Keep your distance,” roared Leofryc, holding his greatsword like a pole-arm.

  “Commander,” said Marius, wearily. “Please stand down. I told you, these are not enemies.”

  There were at least two dozen Pure Ones encircling us. Only two had not drawn their blades, and they approached us slowly, arms spread. Two men, one with a wrinkled face and waist-length grey hair, the other young, tall and muscular, walked deliberately towards Leofryc.

  The older of the two bowed his head. “Man of the Eagle,” he said, by way of a greeting. “Your steel is not for us.”

  “Name?” barked the commander of Falcon’s Watch. “Or my steel will have to ask.”

  “I am Heart of Stone,” announced the Pure One. “Varn of the Rykalite, and master of these trees. This is Autumn Rain, my son. We are here because the Lord Invader asked for us.” He looked beyond Leofryc to Marius and I. “May we assist you?” He had a calm voice, and a gentle demeanour.

  “You may assist,” conceded Leofryc, lowering his huge sword.