Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga)

by Alexander, Ian

  "THUS SAITH THE ALMIGHTY ONE: WAR NOT AGAINST ONE ANOTHER. FOR THIS IS THE WILL OF MALAKANDOR, THAT YE DESTROY ONE ANOTHER. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND JOIN HANDS AGAINST THE DARK RULER OF THIS WORLD."

  As the thunder ebbed into the distant hills, a dead silence filled the valley. Render felt a presence so powerful coming over him like a mantle. Valhandra had spoken through him. Surely they would drop their swords and arrows and take heed.

  Instead, he heard a familiar voice cry out, "Ignore this trickery and attack!"

  Before Render could return to rescue his friends, a thousand soldiers, horses and weapons rushed into the center of the valley.

  Towards the wizened tree.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  Without thought for anything else, Render dove back down to his friends. Greifer bore her fangs, her ears flattened back. Ahndien kept a trembling Branson behind her, but trained her eyes on Render as his feet touched the ground.

  // STAY CLOSE, RENDER //

  // WE HAVE TO LEAVE! //

  // NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT VALHANDRA SAID! //

  Ahndien was right. But far as Render knew, he was to stand and prophesy to the valley.

  From whence cometh thy help.

  He had failed!

  Now, with the roar of two armies closing their grip on the valley of dry bones, what else could he do to bring them out of their lust for blood and into unity? He stood a better chance of holding back the flow of Leviathan Falls.

  "Blast them, Render!" Branson shouted. "Use your lightning!"

  But that would do nothing to accomplish his calling. And could he possibly stop them all? "Closer, everyone! We're going to fly out of here before—"

  A sickening sound severed his words.

  An approaching whistle.

  From both sides.

  "Get down!" Render dove at Ahndien and Branson, knocking them to the sand, where pale shin bones clattered about. From the corner of his eye—but more from the screaming over his head—he perceived thousands of arrows flying over them from both the Torian and Tianese archers. Some collided, spun and tumbled in the dust around them.

  He looked up, but Ahndien pushed him down. Kneeling, she lifted her hands and wove a ring of fire about them. It blazed so bright Render had to turn away. The arrows that hit the fiery ring fell to the ground in small piles of ash and molten ore, still glowing red.

  It seemed to go on forever, but eventually the first wave of Torian foot soldiers passed them by and proceeded to launch their assault on the oncoming Tianese troops.

  Swords clashed on the eastern side of the valley. Horses galloped, pounding the ground and causing it to quake. Ahndien let out an exhausted breath and lowered her hands. Seizing the opportunity, Render rose to his feet and peered to the melee. But the rhythmic beating of war drums and horns drew his attention back to the approaching Torians.

  The next wave—a solid wall of Torian warriors—marched over at a relentless pace, spears, swords and arrows at the ready. Perhaps he could make an appeal to King Corigan, as a citizen of Valdshire Tor. But he abandoned the thought, when he caught a glimpse of the black-armored knight, riding on an ebony-colored warhorse.

  Lord Mooregaard.

  Even at this impossible distance, their eyes met.

  "Behold!" Mooregaard cried out to the Torians. "It is Render, standing with a Tianese spy! He has betrayed us all by warning them of our attack!"

  "That's a lie!"

  But his voice could not be heard over the angry soldiers' shouts, who now doubled their pace as Mooregaard rode forth, his sword glinting in the sun which broke through the charcoal clouds.

  "Traitor!"

  Before Render could move, a flash of black flew past him. It went out so quickly, he could barely distinguish the head, the powerful legs and the tail. Greifer let out a snarl as she rushed into the open plane at Mooregaard.

  "Greifer, wait!"

  Lifting up one hand, Mooregaard commanded the troops to hold their position. All the while, over on the other side of the wizened tree, Tianese and Torians fought to the death.

  Mooregaard raised his sword to strike the panther, but was not prepared for how swiftly she fell upon him. He let out a grunt as she knocked him off of his horse.

  Then, grabbing his right wrist in her powerful jaws, she shook it so violently that he could do nothing but strain and groan and drop his sword. He began shouting oaths and thrashing about in pain, but the great panther only bore down more until he ceased struggling.

  Render intuited her words to Mooregaard.

  // COMMAND your MEN TO TURN AROUND, OR BE RELIEVED OF your ARM! //

  Chest rising and falling, his teeth clenched, Mooregaard lifted his other hand from the ground. With her massive paw, Greifer pinned it to the ground and throwing a puff of dust to rise up around an upturned skull in the sand.

  Then, without a hint of a warning, he swung himself around—arm still caught in the panther's jaw—and rolled over such that he freed his other arm.

  Before Greifer ever noticed, Render saw it.

  He shouted out.

  Too late.

  In one swift set of moves, Mooregaard dropped his hand, caught a sharp stone that fell from his sleeve, then thrust it at Greifer's neck.

  She let out a startle hiss and caught his hand in her jaws.

  Mooregaard shouted in pain and dropped the stone blade. The white of his eyes made them look as though they had grown twice their size.

  But the panther released him and staggered away. A small trail of blood oozed from her neck and down her black fur.

  "Greifer!" Render tried to fly over to her.

  As though she already knew the outcome, Ahndien caught him by the arm. "You can't help her now!"

  All of existence slowed before his very eyes. Greifer fell (though it seemed she floated) down onto her side, writhing in pain. But the struggle was short-lived. Her head went down. Emerald eyes gazed vacuously in Render's direction as her breathing grew more rapid.

  In that short instant, which may as well have lasted an eternity for all Render knew, he remembered the black cat that had been with him since he was a small boy and slave in Bobbington's house, the panther in that Talen Wood cave, the cat that never left his side from his days in Castle Mittelvald and through the entire journey to the present battle.

  A dagger of anguish pierced his soul.

  Was this what it was like to lose his parents?

  And then, the normal passage of time resumed.

  Mooregaard rose to his feet, grasping his wounded arm. He glared down at the dying panther and drew his sword.

  "No!" Render pulled free from Ahndien and flew straight at the black knight. But no matter how swiftly he flew, he could not arrive in time to stop it. Mooregaard knelt on one knee, put his hand gently on Greifer's jet black head, and then raised the sword over her neck.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

  Render launched himself straight at Mooregaard and drove his fist into his jaw. The black knight's head swung to the side. His sword fell to the ground. Render wasn't certain if the crack of bones and ligaments came from Mooregaard's face, his own hand, or both.

  Render landed square on his feet expecting his opponent to falter, at the very least. But Mooregaard merely turned his face back and glared with such malice, it made Render stumble back.

  The black knight advanced. From beneath his mail shirt, pulled out another sharp rock resembling a long spear head. "Come on!" He thrust it at Render's chest.

  Render jumped back and raised his glowing hands at him. But the light and heat dissipated. He blinked in confusion.

  // BEWARE, RENDER //

  Greifer's thoughts...faint, barely discernable.

  // SHIKAR ...SUPPRESSES... //

  The power flowing through Render's entire body surged, then ebbed. The radiance in his hands dimmed at the thought. He stumbled back, intimidated not only by the thought of the Shikar stone and what it had done to Greifer, but by the malevolent look in Mooregaard's eyes.r />
  "Don't prolong the inevitable. Come and die quickly!" Mooregaard rushed at Render again.

  A blue and white bolt flew from Render's hands. Mooregaard lifted his arm to shield his face, but the lightning dissipated before it even reached him. The young Sojourner stared at his hands, then to the ground where Greifer lay, breathing heavily and dying. His heart sank.

  In the distance, thousands of Torian soldiers stood, brandishing swords and spears as they cheered their commander, who smugly wielded his sword in one hand, and the Shikar blade in his other.

  "Come now, don't waste my time. I promise to kill you quickly and painlessly." Mooregaard stood with the sharp Shikar stone pointed at Render's throat.

  But before either of them could react, something whisked through the air above them. A fierce shout, then, in a loud clatter of armor and weapons and shields, something struck the black knight, causing him to fall to one knee, his helmet covering his eyes.

  Whatever it was that hit Mooregaard, it flew straight up into the air again. Render took the opportunity to swing the point of his own sword just beneath his opponent’s chin. Searching for the thing that had just saved his life, Render beheld, but he could not believe his eyes.

  It was Branson.

  "How do you like that, you stinking pile of cow dung?" Bounding into the air in repeated leaps, Branson leaped over horses and spears, kicking over soldier after soldier as he descended then bounced back into the air. Like a very large and mischievous frog.

  In wonder, Render took a few steps back and could not help but smile.

  But Mooregaard took the opportunity to stand, recover his sword and signal the second wave of his troops. He raised his weapon, and pointed over to the growing battle in the center of the valley. His men let out a roar and charged forward.

  Back to his senses, Render brandished his sword, lightning crackling about the length of its blade.

  Ahndien ran over and took Render by the arm. "You have to leave this place!"

  She was right. Whether or not the troops meant to crush Render, Greifer and Ahndien, or to join the melee in the center of the valley, they would be killed. Barely able to hear his own voice above the din of the oncoming troops, Render turned to Greifer. "I can't just leave her there!"

  "You'll be killed!'

  // FLEE, RENDER. GET THEE TO SAFETY //

  // I WON'T LEAVE YOU! //

  At that very moment, Mooregaard removed his gauntlets, threw them to the ground, and with eyes glowing red like burning coals, thrust his open hands at Render and Ahndien.

  A great gust hit them, hurling them back about two yards until they hit the ground.

  Too winded to speak, Render tried to stand.

  But a series of wind blasts kept knocking him down.

  It was Mooregaard. He kept attacking them with gale force air bursts. While doing this, he took his sword in his other hand, held it above Greifer and prepared to deal her a final blow.

  Just before he thrust it down, an errant brown horse came charging through the dust cloud. It let out a wild neigh and with its head rammed Mooregaard so hard he went flying into the air.

  To Render's surprise, Mooregaard did not fall.

  Instead, he righted himself mid-air and flew straight up into the sky and towards the raging battle. Though surprised, Render turned around and ran back to Greifer.

  But as he did, he saw the most peculiar thing.

  The brown horse, which looked too old and worn to fight in a battle, stood over the wounded panther. Render strode over, eyes wide in wonder. Ahndien following close behind and they witnessed the horse transforming ever so gradually. First the head, then torso such that he resembled a man, then finally all the limbs pulling in as he reared up on the hind legs and stood erect and clothed in a hooded brown robe.

  The man seemed familiar to Render, but the hood he wore obscured his face. He knelt down and now, Greifer had also begun to transform. But not into a black cat. She was taking the form of a woman.

  "Render," Ahndien said, touching his shoulder. "Please, we must go. Valhandra has said—"

  "Not yet!" His words caused the man to turn his head. His hood dropped and straight away, Render knew who it was. The Prophet! "But how did you—?"

  He held up a hand, interrupting Render’s words, and knelt by the panther. “She’s been grazed by a Shikar stone. It will only prolong her suffering.”

  "Render..." Greifer called out, laying on the ground and gasping for breath. She reached out her hand. "Draw nigh..."

  Warm tears stood in his eyes and blurred his vision. He knelt and took her hand, which felt unnaturally cold. "Please Greifer, you mustn't..."

  "Let it not be for naught, dear prince—" she grimaced, arched up. "There is....still hope..."

  "I won't leave you."

  "Go and...fulfill your destiny."

  His face looking younger than possible, The Prophet inclined his head to Render with reverence. "I shall remain by her side as long I can, O Great Deliverer." He took Greifer's other hand and caressed her face. Then when he lifted his head, his eyes regarded Render with mixture sadness and dignity. "Your mother and I are exceedingly proud of you."

  "What?" Render fell to his knees and choked back a sob. "My mothe—? Why didn't you—?"

  "Beloved son." A poignant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She reached up and touched Render's face tenderly, then glanced over to the Prophet. "Behold, thy Father."

  "You're my father?"

  A thousand questions flooded Render's mind threatening to burst like a breached dam. And at the same time, understanding and acknowledgment filled the recesses of his spirit.

  There was so much he wanted to ask, so much he needed to reconcile. Yet the rising clamor of the battle forbade him. As did Ahndien's barely contained urgency. With otherworldly understanding, the Prophet looked Render in the eye, made a connection of recognition which traversed time, and said, "You must go. Now."

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

  It wasn't the dreadful sound of the soldiers crying out in terror that caught Render's attention. Nor was it the sudden cessation of the clanging of swords. It was the biting cold gust that came rushing up his back.

  Ahndien grabbed his arm. "Fly!"

  Taking her in his arms, Render did so, leaving Greifer and the Prophet—his mother and father—in the skeleton-strewn sands of the valley. Down below, thousands of soldiers stood with their faces pointed into the sky, their arms and weapons slack at their side, and mouths agape.

  It took a moment for Render to realize what they were staring at. Finally, at the sound of a struggling woman, he turned in the direction of her voice.

  Arms firmly wrapped around Render, Ahndien said, "It's the Empress!"

  "Treachery! This is treachery!" Suspended in the air, a woman clad in mail, with flowing scarlet scarves streaming in the wind, strained and flailed about, unable to control her upward ascent. She clawed in the direction of another woman who also hovered in the air not far from her.

  But this woman seemed entirely at ease as she floated. By the way she maneuvered her hands towards the Dowager Empress, it was clear that she wielded a supernatural hold on her.

  "Treachery for treachery, vile she-dog!"

  Right away, Render knew the voice. It was Lady Volfoncé. And before the Empress could utter another word, Volfoncé clapped her hands together sending a percussive wave through the valley. Instantly, the Empress's body exploded into thousands of tiny shards of flesh and bone. A sickly red spatter fell to the rocks beneath her.

  Render whinced at the sight, too horrified to speak.

  Ahndien turned her eyes from the monstrous sight. "It's the people we must rescue," she said.

  Somehow Render understood. He remembered. For this too had been revealed to him by Valhandra in his encounter.

  Mooregaard stood on a precipice over the valley. With his left hand twisting in the air, he commanded a whirlwind to encircle both armies. The wind howled and threw up a curtain of dust
in around them. It spun at such a speed that frost grew on every soldier, Torian and Tianese alike. When they tried to cry out, they coughed and fell to the ground trembling from the cold.

  "What's happening?" Ahndien said.

  "He's freezing them." Render flew at Mooregaard but stopped midflight as the black knight lifted his right hand, directing a stream of air enclosing King Corigan. The King looked like a frozen piece of meat, curled up into a ball, white frost and icicles forming on every edge. Perhaps he was dead already.

  "And now, fools of the East and West, behold! How your mighty rulers fall!" All the while spinning the frigid air around the soldiers of both kingdoms, Mooregaard made a fist with his right hand and then thrust it at Corigan.

  Tiny frozen pieces of what was once the King's body flew in every direction, raining down over his cowering army. The sound evoked fine crystal shattering.

  "Oh no. This is impossible." Mooregaard and Volfoncé were a far worse manifestation of evil than even the black dragon in the ancient shrine. "I...I can't face them," Render whispered, an internal chill creeping down his back.

  "But you can!" Ahndien pressed her face into the crook of his neck. "I know you can."

  "No. They're too powerful."

  "You don't have to face them alone. I'll help you." Warm breath rose up. Her tears moistened his chest. "No matter the cost, I won't let them hurt you."

  In the short time this had taken place, Volfoncé had flown over to Mooregaard's side. She stood, hands on her hips and smiled crookedly.

  Ahndien turned her head and looked. "We have to stop them, Render. I think they're about to do something even worse."

  "Oh great Malakandor!" Mooregaard lifted his hands and stretched them out over the immobilized armies. "Hear our supplication, oh great one."

  Volfoncé held out her hands in the same direction. "At thy bidding, we offer these souls to thee. Now, according to thy word, bestow upon us, thy servants, the reign of these two kingdoms!"