by Jon Bender
Enrick heard a soft rustling behind him. Spinning around, he drew his sword, stopping it only inches from a face he recognized. “I could have killed you,” Enrick said.
“You ain’t never killed no one you didn’t mean to, My Lord. I have never seen anyone who can fight like you,” he said. A grin spread across his rugged face.
Enrick knew the men marveled at his skill in battle, but if they knew the truth behind his abilities, they may be far less trusting. “I told you to stop calling me that, Gant. We grew up together cleaning out my father’s pig pens and birthing calves. I am no more a lord than you are,” Enrick replied. He had mixed feelings about being known as the Bandit Lord. The name was not of his choosing. It had sprung from a combination of Dillion’s naming him outlaw and the common people thinking him more than he was. “Is everyone in place?”
“Yup, they are lined up, wait’n the signal. You want I should give it?”
Enrick looked fondly at his childhood friend, remembering simpler times. Gant’s family had been hired hands on Enrick’s father’s farm since before either of them were old enough to walk, but the other man had not benefitted from the same education Enrick had. Enrick’s father had always wanted him to be more than a wealthy farmer, so he had sent him to school in Dameral, a large city in the north now under Or’Keer’s control.
“Do it.”
Gant let out a long birdcall, signaling the men to spread out in the trees and start moving towards the village. The priests had gathered every citizen at its center to watch the cleansing. Enrick moved out into the open field at the center of the staggered line of men, covering the distance as quickly and quietly as possible. Once among the buildings, they moved deeper to the main street where hundreds of people were gathered at sword point. In the center of the street, the two priests stood over a crouching family. The father had placed himself between the priests and his family in an attempt to protect them. A thin, shadow creature with long arms ending in curved blades stood next to the priests. Enrick could just see that the man was covered with bleeding wounds. Kelran soldiers surrounded them, brandishing their weapons toward a crowd of people who watched the bloody display with horrified faces. They kept themselves distant from the soldiers not wanting to be there, but none daring to leave or end up joining the family in the center. Enrich grimaced. Having so many people around would complicate things. He could only trust they would know to run or help when the fighting began.
The taller of the two black robed men waved his hand, and the shadow creature moved to obey, swinging its whip-like arms. The man cried out in pain as new wounds appeared on his body, his wife and children echoing his cries as they watched helplessly. Enrick looked to see if his men were in position. Not all of them had reached the streets and alleys from where they were to launch their attack. The taller priest waved his hand again, and the creature thrust an arm forward, piercing the man through the chest. Flinging the body aside, the creature stepped back as the shorter robed figure addressed the crowd. More of Enrick’s men had made it to their places, and some of the archers had taken up positions on the roofs. In the street, the woman had taken her husband’s place in front of her young girls. The priest finished his speech and waved again to the creature. Enrick could not wait any longer. Focusing his thoughts, he felt strength flow into his body, as every living thing from the grass to the priest unknowingly gave him a bit of their strength. The world around him slowed as he watched the shadow creature advance. His muscles tightened, speeding his body into motion as the world returned to its normal pace.
He was halfway to the crowd with his sword drawn before the guards even shouted an alarm. The people of the village scattered, running in every direction. The mother in the center used the distraction to gather up her crying daughters and flee. By the time Enrick reached the center of the street, it had cleared of civilians, leaving only the ring of soldiers to meet him. The closest man barely had time to raise his sword to parry Enrick’s blow. Enrick added more strength to his swing, knocking the soldier’s blade out of the way as if the man were a child. He then reversed, slashing back across the soldier’s chest in a spray of crimson. Before his opponent hit the ground, more of the rebel fighters had followed their leader in his mad charge, and the two forces slammed together in furious battle. The Kelrans on the opposite side of the street moved to meet the attack, placing the dark priests at their backs, away from the melee.
With their advantage now spent, things quickly turned ugly for the rebels. The shadow creature was joined by a thicker, more powerful version of itself, and the two waded into the line, killing any rebel who came too close. Arrows from the rooftops began to strike down more of the soldiers, and the creatures quickly sported a dozen shafts from their dark bodies but took no notice of them. The priests erected black walls to protect themselves from the deadly rain.
Leaving the soldiers to his men, Enrick moved to meet the shadow creature. He swung his sword, and the sharpened steel tore halfway through the creature’s leg. The shadow roared in anger, countering with a whip-like arm aimed for Enrick’s legs. He channeled power to his legs. As the blade-like fingers closed the distance, Enrick launched himself into the air, his body spinning horizontal to the ground. His sword coming full circle slicing the appendage away as it passed beneath him. He landed in a crouch. The severed arm flopped wetly to the ground a few feet away where it quickly dissolved in the light of the sun. The creature roared again, and Enrick swung, cutting low to finish the job he started by severing the shadow’s leg completely. The creature collapsed to its side, lashing out with its remaining arm in a clumsy attack that Enrick easily avoided. Stepping in close, he gripped his sword with two hands. Power flowing to his arms, he brought the blade down in a crushing blow that removed the creature’s head.
Not waiting to watch it break apart in the sun, Enrick looked for the second creature. The larger one was down on a knee as a group of his men hacked and slashed its thick body into pieces. More than half of the Kelran soldiers were down as well. They were not the problem now. The dark priests stood behind their walls, sending out long black tentacles to fling his men into the air or crush them into the ground.
Rushing into the soldier’s line, he dropped his shoulder low and slipped inside the guard of the nearest man. Connecting with the soldier’s chest, he heard several snaps as the sternum and ribs broke. The soldier’s body flew backwards through the air to land at the feet of the priests. The shorter priest looked up to find Enrick’s angry eyes staring back at him. Moving through the hole, Enrick rolled to the side as a tentacle slammed down onto the spot where he had been standing. The impact sending up a cloud of dust. As he came out of the roll, the appendage struck at him again. This time, he swung at it lopping off several feet. As Enrick closed the distance between him and the priests, one of the black robed men hurled several manifested daggers at him. Pulling more power into his body, Enrick increased the resilience of his flesh while accepting daggers in the chest and arm. The conjured blades sank only an inch into his hardened body. Enrick relished the look of surprise on the dark priest’s face as he took the last steps, driving steel through the man’s chest to erupt out of his back. The surprised look continued until the light went out of his eyes.
Seeing his brother die before him, the taller priest began to chant quickly, conjuring a giant hand made of darkness. The hand whipped towards Enrick, giving him barely enough time to harden his body with power before the back of it slammed into his side. The impact sent him flying. He landed on his back, stunned. With no time to recover, Enrick rolled to the side as the hand formed into a fist and slammed down, shattering the ground. Regaining his feet, Enrick held his sword before him. The hand lunged toward him, but Enrick side-stepped, hacking down with his sword and severing two of the fingers. Power coursed to his legs as he leapt high into the air, the tip of his blade coming down to pierce the palm, pinning it to the ground. As he knelt between the remaining fingers, the hand began to dissolve around him
. Pulling the blade from the ground, he found that the priest had escaped while he had dealt with the appendage.
The last of the Kelrans, seeing their leaders dead or gone, broke away from the rebels in retreat. Enrick stopped his men’s pursuit of the soldiers. “Tend to the wounded. I want to be out of here within the hour before they come back with reinforcements.”
Gant was kneeling next to the priest, searching the body but finding nothing of value. The rest of the men were doing the same, stripping the bodies of the dead soldiers for weapons and undamaged armor. Anything that would help them to continue to resist Dillion and Or’Keer. “The priest got away,” he said, approaching Enrick.
“Yes, but we got the other,” Enrick replied. Looking about the street, he counted around twenty of his men unmoving on the ground. Another fifteen were being tended.
“We should’a brung more men,” Gant said.
“There wasn’t time. They would have killed a dozen town’s people and moved on before we could have gathered more. We made the right choice,” he said, trying more to convince himself.
“I’ll go an see if any of these people wanna join us, eh?” Gant said, moving off.
Enrick knew it was necessary to recruit whenever possible, even if he did not like it. They were far outnumbered by Kelran soldiers, who could absorb heavy losses, but every man the rebels lost was a crippling blow. Sheathing his sword, he went to help get the wounded ready to travel. He needed to show those around him a leader full of confidence and without doubt.
Chapter 7
Jaxom passed masons constructing the new wall and door that would seal off the hall. Once it was complete, half a dozen soldiers would guard the other side to defend what had recently been an area of unimportant storerooms. Carpenters were in one of those rooms now, building new shelves for the books Alimar felt were too sensitive to be left in the upper palace. The next room was being turned into a small sleeping area for the men who would stand guard here. At the end of hall, more workers were building another wall with a heavy, iron-bound door to replace the one Laiden had destroyed. This new door would protect the room while still allowing easy access. If the need ever arose, the heavy stone door Laiden had discovered could be dropped back into place behind it. Sealing the magical items away once more.
Walking into the large room itself, he looked over the four risen guards placed there. Each wore a full suite of black plate armor and was armed with long spears and swords sheathed at their hips. Jaxom had once asked the older death mage where he was getting the bodies of men to build their risen force. The man had replied cryptically that he had picked them up along the way. Jaxom suspected that he did not want to know the details, and had never pressed the matter further. Alimar sat at one of the smaller tables, an open book in front of him. He dipped his pen into an inkwell and examined the dagger in his hand before scribbling something into the book. The process of organizing and recording the hundreds of varying items in the room seemed a daunting task, but one Alimar seemed to enjoy.
“You said there was something you wanted to show me?” Jaxom said getting his attention.
Looking over his shoulder, the older mage nodded. “Yes, there is something you should take with you.” He stood and moved to another table. “You remember the rings I told you about yesterday?”
“The ones that allow communication at a distance,” Jaxom replied.
“I have decided to call them whispering stones.” He picked up one of the stone rings and offered it to Jaxom. “I have spent the last couple of days studying them, and I think they are safe to use.”
“At what distance?” Jaxom asked, accepting the heavy black ring.
“I sent one of the durgen riders a day’s flight with one, and we were able to converse without issue. I do not think there is a limit to how far apart they can be. The twin of the one you hold now is on its way to Ale’adar for the king, along with instruction on how they work and another set for his use.”
That was all Jaxom needed. Corin would be able to contact him whenever he wanted. The idea of his brother whispering in his ear at night left Jaxom with a disturbed feeling. “Will he be able hear what is going on while I carry it?”
“No, you have to bring the ring to your lips and speak. The magic will not work otherwise,” Alimar said.
Jaxom felt a wave of relief. He would not put it past his brother to interrupt when Jaxom and Adriana were alone for a laugh at their expense. “That’s good to know.”
Alimar gave him a curious look. “Here is another, so we may speak when it is necessary.” Handing over a blue version of the ring Jaxom held, Alimar lifted his own hand displaying its twin.
Jaxom placed one ring on each of his first fingers and found they were too big. He was about to take them off again when the stone shrank to fit his fingers perfectly. Jaxom looked up in alarm, but Alimar only shrugged.
“A part of their enchantment, clearly. I have yet to find any writing on how our ancestors were able to imbue separate types of magic in one item. It is a skill I sorely wish to learn, but for now, we will use what we have. Are the preparations completed for your departure tomorrow?” he asked.
“Almost. I am taking a hundred soldiers along with Adriana’s riders,” Jaxom said.
“Good, we will finally get to see how they do in a fight. I still think you should take some of the risen with you. They are far more durable then living men, and easier to control,” Alimar said.
Jaxom had given his suggestion a considerable amount of thought, but in the end had decided that men who could think for themselves would be more valuable. “The men I am taking will do fine. It is not yet time to unleash what we have created. They are a hammer when what we need is a dagger.”
“As you will,” he said, dismissing the matter. “I have a lot of work here, and I am sure you have things to do as well.”
Jaxom nodded as Alimar returned to his book and pen. He walked out of the hall and made his way up into the palace and out to the training yard. A light snow had begun to fall, and the chilled air forced him to wrap his heavy cloak around his body. Warin was instructing Lexa on the use of the barrier, readying her for combat with other mages. Before Or’Keer had exerted his influence into Kelran, the kingdom had been home to mages who had served its king. They did not know what had happened to them, but there was a good chance that some if not all had joined with the dark god. They would not have been the first to swear themselves to Or’Keer. Serin, the former leader of the mages, had led a group of traitors to capture Ale’adaria in the god’s name before Jaxom had killed him.
Lexa was holding the barrier as Warin battered at it with the coil. Jaxom could see the strain on her face as she fought to maintain the cast against the onslaught. The shimmering began to flicker as her strength lapsed then failed altogether. Collapsing to a knee, the young woman labored for breath as Warin put a hand under her arm to help her to her feet.
“Very good, you are gaining strength. That is enough for today. I have a session scheduled with Magus Jaxom,” Warin said, seeing Jaxom approach.
“Thank you, Magus,” she replied. “I feel stronger. Do you think tomorrow we can work on the daggers?”
“Tomorrow and the following days as well. We will be practicing every night when we make camp on our way to Kelran. If you want to stay, you can see Jaxom go through what you just did, and afterward you can watch him thump me around with his sword,” Warin said patting his own sword hanging from his hip. “I would enjoy seeing that,” she said smiling. It was the first time Jaxom had ever heard her make a joke, and looking to Warin, he could see him smiling as well. He was glad to see that the man was having a positive effect on the girl.
“Shall we begin, Magus?” Warin asked him.
Jaxom smiled, taking Lexa’s place while she moved off to the side to watch. Pulling energy into himself, Jaxom raised his hands out towards Warin, letting the power flow to his fingers. The barrier was a simple concept, similar to the conjured shackles Alimar had
once placed on him restricting his ability to cast. The power of death could be used to drain away life. It could also do the same to the energy that formed magical casts. The barrier appeared in front of him, distorting his view of Warin through its wavy surface. He watched as the man raised his own hand to release a tight column of white smoke. Pulling his hand back then whipping it forward, the coil followed the path of his arm to slam into the barrier. The shock was jarring for Jaxom. It was the first time he had ever used the defensive cast to block an attack, and the second blow felt much the same. Not until the third did he get a feel for the magic, adjusting slightly to better absorb the strike. Warin continued the barrage for well over a minute before he did something Jaxom had not expected. Changing the angle of the coil, the other mage swung the cast out to the left, aiming for Jaxom’s side. Reacting as quickly as he could to the change in direction, Jaxom tried to move the barrier by moving his hands. The barrier seemed to drag, as if the air was trying to hold the cast in place. The coil whipped around the barrier long before he could get it into place, clipping his hip and sending him to the ground.
Warin walked over to offer him a hand up. “You didn’t move the barrier when I changed direction,” Warin said.
“Obviously, or I wouldn’t have ended up on my rear,” Jaxom replied sarcastically.
The other death mage smiled. “I mean, you tried to move the cast like you would any other, by just moving your hands. With this, you must not only move your body but your mind, willing the barrier to move as you move. Your hands are just the channel through which the magic flows. It is your will that controls it.”
