Remnants of the Order

by Hamish Spiers

  “Very few people in the eastern lands have,” Sól told him. “They were the unwitting forebears of the Angdar, sadly.”

  “I think I begin to see,” Lord Falk said.

  “Believe me,” Sól said, “it’s a long story. But the Ulak hate the Angdar with a passion that’s unrivalled. And they have the strength and then some to fight the Angdar on their own terms.”

  Lord Falk nodded. “Formidable warriors. As you said.”

  “Indeed,” Sól said. “But there’s one last thing about the Ulak that will give us an advantage when we make our attack. The Angdar don’t know they exist either. They, Lord Falk, are the key to the success of our attack.”

  XXIII. The Battle of Cirreone

  The day after the next, waves crashed against the walls of Cirreone. Or rather the single great wall that wound its way around it in ever shrinking circles until it reached the citadel at the center of the great trading city.

  To the west, behind a small rise in the land, Amoraak and a large band of his Ulak warriors waited in silence, with their broad shields, spears and swords at the ready, while Sól and Tal stood before their ranks.

  Sól turned to Amoraak. “Well, this is it. Are you ready?”

  Amoraak nodded. “What about you? I understand that Morgiana is a good teacher but she has never done what you’re about to do and neither have you.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Sól told him with a smile.

  Amoraak shook his hand. “Well, I hope this works for all our sakes. Good luck, my friends.”

  “Thank you, Amoraak,” Sól replied.

  Then Sól and Tal stepped over the rise, placing themselves in full view of all the Angdar on the western wall of the fortress.

  “Are you ready, Tal?” Sól asked her former apprentice.

  Tal took a breath. “Ready. But this might take it out of us a little.”

  “Well, Amoraak and the others will give us a chance to get our breaths back afterwards,” Sól pointed out.

  “True. Let’s do this.”

  “Right.”

  The two mages stretched out their hands towards the gate and concentrated as hard as they could, letting the full power of the gift course through them.

  A thin coating of ice spread over the entire gate and onto parts of the wall to either side. In an instant, the entire gate was frozen and brittle. Then without any farther warning, it exploded like shattered glass. Enormous pieces of iron shot out in all directions, smashing large chunks out of the wall and sending dozens of Angdar flying from them to their deaths. Around the gate, the wall crumbled, crushing the Angdar who had been standing underneath. And when the dust had cleared, an enormous gap in the fortress wall now opened out onto the plains.

  Sól and Tal climbed back over the rise to where Amoraak was waiting.

  The Ulak leader chuckled. “It may be some time before I get my hearing back. I take it that it worked, then?”

  “It worked,” Sól replied.

  Amoraak nodded. “Right.” Then he turned to his men and motioned them to follow him over the rise. Soon, he stood where the mages had moments before, but with his Ulak warriors extending two hundred yards to either side of him.

  The Angdar in Cirreone had never seen Ulak before but they would find out what they were made of today.

  Amoraak watched as the enemy soldiers fanned out before the breach in the wall and formed ranks.

  For a long time, the two opposing lines stared at each other, unmoving. Then Amoraak let out a wordless battle cry and as its echoes faded away, silence hung in the air once more.

  Then slowly, a dull thudding noise began as the hundreds of Ulak warriors on the edge of the plain beat the ends of their spears into the ground. With each thrust into the earth, they pounded their spears harder and faster.

  Then Amoraak let out another, shorter challenge. The challenge was resounded by all the Ulak warriors behind him in fearsome shouts and they stepped forward and beat their shields. They repeated the challenge several times, louder and more ferociously with each cry, until the entire plain was shaking from the noise.

  Then among the lines of the enemy, the Angdar began to feel fear. Genuine fear. Their leaders, old brutes with many scars and occasional broken horns or missing chunks of flesh, grunted orders to them to stand their ground but the Angdar were nonetheless shaken.

  They brandished their weapons, growling and roaring like frightened creatures trying to scare off a larger animal about to devour them, and it had no effect on the Ulak.

  Then the two armies clashed. And as the Angdar fought back, they failed to see the other army that closed in from the eastern side of the fortress until they were right upon them. An army of soldiers from Ilara, Maharei and all the lands of the east. The battle of Cirreone had begun.

  Out to sea, the fleets of Maharei and Ilara approached the city and Morgiana stepped up on the deck of the Osprey beside Lord Bacara. From her vantage point, she saw that the battle had started very well but it was going to be a grueling fight. Thousands of Angdar were pouring out of the entrance to the fortress, making it more and more difficult for the ground contingents to break in. Also, she now saw just how heavily defended the outer wall was. From alcoves within the wall, catapults were hurling large rocks and rubble at the ships.

  “Keep the ships back,” she told Lord Bacara. “Stay out of range of their weapons.” Then she gave him a smile. “But not too far back. If we look like we might be in range, and if we retaliate with attacks of our own, we can keep the enemy’s eyes on us and tie down their defenses.”

  Soon on the battlefield before the city, the solid front presented by Angdar began to crumble. Then the Ulak, along with the soldiers of Maharei, Ilara and the eastern lands charged as one and like water bursting from a dam, they poured into the fortress, fighting Angdar on the road that wound its way up to the citadel and heading into the alcoves in the wall to attack the enemy soldiers there as well.

  Then, in a lull in the fighting, Tal came to a stop. A few yards away, Sól lay on the cobblestones, resting against a small pillar with one hand on her side. Blood seeped through her fingers.

  “Sól!” Tal shouted. He ran to his friend and crouched beside her.

  Sól smiled. “We’ve done it, Tal. We’ve broken their defences.” She coughed a little and clasped Tal’s hand.

  Tears came to Tal’s eyes but he tried to smile. “We did it,” he told his friend and teacher.

  “Finish it, Tal,” Sól told him.

  “I will,” Tal promised. “We’ll wipe the Angdar off the face of the earth.”

  Sól shook her head. “No. That’s... the battle. I mean what comes after.” She closed his eyes and exhaled. “Finish it.”

  As night fell, Morgiana realized that the fleet could do more where it was.

  “All right,” she said. “Head for the nearest safe cove to the west. Then we’ll disembark and join our companions on the land.”

  “We’re going to abandon the ships?” one of the men asked.

  Morgiana turned to him. “If we’re victorious tonight, they’ll still be there in the morning. And if we’re not, then it won’t really matter, will it?”

  However, despite the anxieties some felt, the battle was almost at its end. Soon, the remaining Angdar were overwhelmed and the fighting was over.

  Bloodied but still standing strong, Tal, Amoraak and Lord Falk approached the citadel.

  “I can see why the enemies of the Greater Realms wanted to make their own variation of the Ulak,” Lord Falk told Amoraak. “Your people are magnificent warriors.”

  Amoraak bowed his head. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Lord Falk then looked at the entrance to the citadel. “So what happens now?” he asked his companions. “Do we put Marshal Artaeis on trial or do we kill him where he stands?”

  “We’ll see,” Tal replied.

  Then, there was a small commotion behind them as people parted to let Morgiana through. She had been running a
nd was a little out of breath.

  “How dare you think about going in there without me,” she chided Tal, panting.

  “Sorry,” he replied, but without any humor.

  Morgiana gazed at him. “What’s wrong? Where’s Sól?”

  Tal shook his head.

  Morgiana looked down and took a deep breath. Then she turned back to him. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The group walked up a few small steps to the door of the citadel and knocked. When the door opened, Marshal Artaeis stood there alone. He eyed the gathered crowd before him. “What is the meaning of this rabble?”

  “Are you surprised, Marshal?” Lord Falk asked him. “Are you going to deny your crimes against the Greater Realms? Plead ignorance and pretend you don’t know why we’re here? Even after your Angdar just tried to kill us all?”

  Artaeis smiled. “Well spoken, Lord Falk.” Then he held out his hands. “So what is to be done? Am I to be taken in? Locked away?”

  “Would you like that?” Lord Falk asked.

  “I’d rather die,” Artaeis replied, his voice now laced with contempt.

  “That can be arranged,” Tal said. He straightened his posture and forced a smile. “What about a duel then, Marshal Artaeis? If you win, we will allow you to sail south and live a life in exile. A lonely life, perhaps, but a life of freedom.”

  “And if I lose?”

  Tal’s smile remained in place. “What happens when anyone loses a duel to the death, Marshal?”

  Artaeis laughed. “What happens indeed, Tal Orson? And which of your party wishes to be the champion of the people in this duel?”

  Lord Falk stirred and looked at the others. “I know we all have our grudges against this man but if no one objects, I would like the honor.”

  Tal and Morgiana exchanged glances. Then Tal turned back to the Aracean commander. “All right, Lord Falk. He’s yours.”

  Lord Falk then drew his sword and an Ilara soldier surrendered his own weapon, which was slid across the ground to Marshal Artaeis. Then everyone stepped back to give the two combatants space and watched as Lord Falk and Marshal Artaeis circled each other.

  The marshal struck first but Lord Falk dodged the blow. They then made multiple lunges at one another, deflecting their opponent’s attacks time and time again or dodging the blows. At one point, Marshal Artaeis clipped Lord Falk across the arm and, for a moment, it appeared as though the wound was serious. However, Lord Falk regained the upper hand soon enough and then, at last, his blade went home and Marshal Artaeis collapsed before the citadel.

  Lord Falk cleaned his sword then retrieved the sword his opponent had used and returned it to the Ilara soldier it belonged to.

  Tal put a hand on the shoulder of the Aracean commander. “Well done, my friend.”

  Lord Falk sighed. “So, is it over?”

  “Not quite,” Tal told him, nodding to the doors of the citadel. “There is a small task that needs to be done. No one else really needs to come but Morgiana and myself. However, you are welcome to join us if you wish.”

  Inside the citadel, they found a small hall, quite crude in appearance compared to the building’s exterior. In the center of the drab room was a table with a little orb resting on it.

  Tal picked it up and inspected it. “It’s not much to look at, is it? I’ve seen sketches of the Orb of Askenroth. At least that had some style. But this...” He shook his head and handed it to Morgiana. “Is this what Marshal Artaeis used to find mages in his lands?”

  Morgiana nodded. “This is the orb.” She handed it back to Tal. “Go on, Tal. I know you want to.”

  Tal slung it at a wall, shattering it.

  “So we’re done here now?” Lord Falk asked.

  Tal nodded. “Yes. We’re done.”

  PART II

  THE FORGING OF THE WAY

  I. The Northern Pioneers

  It had been twenty years since the task of rebuilding Orishelm and restoring the kingdom of Arahir had begun and as Lorial Illochir gazed at the city that so many people had worked to remake anew, it was not without some pride. Looking at many of the shimmering white buildings, she recognized in them the work of her husband Derin, the master craftsman who had left Valahir to lend his skills to the monumental task. And she herself had not been idle during the years of its reconstruction either.

  Today of all days though, the city looked splendid. The sun was high above the mountain vale, its light splashing over the eternally snow capped peaks of the mountains that cradled the city and reflecting off the glistening water of the Avahast River as it flowed through the vale on its course to Ensildahir and the Sea of Illimar. The entire scene looked exactly as she had imagined the original city when Lord Keld had first described it to her.

  Then, Orishelm had been a city that lived only in memories, utterly destroyed by the Angdar. Now, twenty–four years after the fall of the city that Kelahil the Wolf–Hearted had founded, the new Orishelm was flourishing and Lorial had seen every step of its rise from the foundations of the old city. She had been there when the first brick in the new foundations had been laid and she was still there now. And she was there to stay.

  She had seen the lands of Khalahi in the south, with its vast open expanses, and of course the great trading cities of Ensari, Kalishar and Cirreone still impressed her to this day, long after she had first laid eyes on them. However, the blood of the Eirahir, the people of the north, was strong in her veins and when she finally set foot in the vale where the old city had stood and where the new city would be built in its place, Lorial knew that at long last she had found her home.

  She turned away from the scene through the window and looked back at her family. There was her husband Derin, who even though he had recently passed his fiftieth year was still a man of strength and vigor. Her gaze then fell over her son, who she had named Ishtvan in honor of her friend who had also borne that name. He was fifteen now and definitely taller than she’d been at that age. There was also her daughter Zecelia beside him, a few years younger than Ishtvan but Lorial knew that she would grow up all too soon as well. Finally, there was her brother–in–law Talon and it was because of Talon that they were all together right then.

  “It really is a beautiful morning,” Lorial said, sitting down, “isn’t it?” She turned to her children. “Ishtvan, if you and Zecelia would like to be outside, you don’t have to stay here. Father and I just want to say goodbye to your uncle before he goes.”

  “I know,” Ishtvan replied. “But we’d like to say goodbye too.” He looked at his uncle. “That is unless I can go with you too, Uncle Talon.”

  Talon shrugged. “I can’t see why not but it would depend on what your parents have to say. Derin?”

  “We do have things to do here too though, Ishtvan,” Derin reminded his son, though not unkindly. “And I’ll be going to the southern villages in two days. Actually, I thought you might like to help me with one of the village halls. We’ve been planning the construction of it for months.”

  “I could come with you, Father,” Zecelia chimed in.

  Derin shook his head. “No, dear. It’s near that old highway to the east and there were Angdar on it three weeks ago.”

  “And Lord Keld killed them,” his daughter said, beaming with delight.

  Derin shook his head and gave Lorial a wry look. “I think my brother’s a bad influence on our daughter. It seems unnatural for a girl of her age to be so interested in border skirmishes, or to delight in anyone killing anything. No matter what they are.”

  “They were Angdar,” Zecelia reasoned. “Mother hates Angdar.”

  “Well, I don’t think anyone’s particularly fond of them,” Derin told her. “But it’s wrong to delight in killing. Surely, if you’ve paid attention to anything your mother’s told you, you’d know that.”

  “She doesn’t mean anything by it,” Talon said, coming to his niece’s defence.

  Derin shrugged. “No, I suppose not.”

  Lorial ruffled
her daughter’s hair and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Okay, Zecelia. Settle down.” She turned to her son. “Ishtvan, why don’t you go with Father to the village? It’d be good for you. I know how well you’ve been doing in sword training with Uncle Talon and if that’s what you’d like to do when you’re older, then of course you can do it. But right now, your father would like you to help him with this village hall and it would really mean a lot to him if you did. And it would mean a lot to me too.”

  Talon put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Go with your father, Ishtvan. You’ve been to Arvenreign recently enough, with both Lady Kaolin and Keld too, I should add.”

  “I like the journey there,” Ishtvan said.

  “It is something,” Talon agreed. “But once we get there, there won’t be much to occupy a young man like yourself. Keld’s just going to be talking to King Kaodas about more joint outposts between our two cities.”

  “It could be instructive to observe that,” Ishtvan tried.

  “If we were welcome to, sure,” Talon said. “However, I doubt the entire entourage will be invited along to the discussions.”

  Ishtvan smiled. “But surely you’d be permitted, Uncle.”

  Talon returned the smile. “Maybe, Ishtvan.”

  Yes, Lorial thought to herself, Talon would be permitted. Keld was watching over him, she knew, and it wasn’t because he was her brother–in–law. It was rather that Keld saw something of himself in the younger man. And he was definitely grooming him for something. That was obvious to her at any rate, even if Talon wasn’t aware of it.

  Ishtvan would be no doubt be permitted as well, Lorial knew, since he was her son. However, if she wanted him to go south with his father to work on that village hall, then she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “I’ll tell you what, Ishtvan,” she said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “If you go with your father this time, I’ll make sure you get a chance to go on the next expedition north. And who knows? If you get back before your Uncle Talon does, maybe you and I can put in some sword training.”