Dawn of War (Legend of the Gods Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  The thought sent a cold draught down Braidon’s spine. Pulling himself to his feet, he stepped down from the boulder and turned in the direction of camp. He staggered as he found Alana standing on the path, her eyes wide, as though he’d just caught her in the middle of some crime. She wore her thick woollen cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders and a sword at her waist.

  His heart suddenly beating hard in his chest, Braidon took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” Alana paused, casting a glance back over her shoulder at the camp. “I…was leaving.”

  “Leaving?” he asked. “Why?”

  She shook her head, and Braidon was surprised to see tears shining in her eyes. “Because there’s no place for me here, Braidon.”

  Braidon’s heartbeat slowed. Legs still shaking from the shock of finding her there, he lowered himself back down onto the boulder. “What do you mean?”

  “Devon doesn’t trust me. You don’t trust me—”

  “Can you blame me?” he cut in, his voice sharp. “After what you did, I can’t even trust my own memories!”

  Alana’s eyes dropped to the gravel-strewn path. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Braidon. That’s why I have to go, before I cause either one of you any more pain.”

  Braidon opened his mouth to speak more angry words, but they died in his throat when he looked into her eyes and saw she was serious. Alana was leaving, and she hadn’t even intended on saying goodbye. He reeled at the realisation, clutching hard to the stone beneath him to keep steady.

  “Alana, you don’t have to go…”

  Staggering to a nearby boulder, Alana sank to the ground and placed her face in her hands. “I do, Braidon,” she said. “I won’t stay where I’m hated.”

  “I don’t hate you,” Braidon burst out, surprised to find the words were true. Her head jerked up, and he saw the surprise written across her face. Braidon sank to the ground alongside her. Tentatively, he rested a hand on her back.

  “Why not?” Alana croaked. “I deserve it.”

  Braidon smiled despite himself. “Because whatever happens, you’re still my sister, Alana.”

  She looked down at that. “I’m still not sure that counts for much in our family.”

  “It counts,” Braidon replied. He trailed off, distracted by her words, by the memories of their father. “Alana…” he murmured, knowing he had to ask, but still wondering if he could believe her answer. “Our father…I have all these memories of him now, of him smiling, happy. And more than that, I remember loving him, and remember his own love for us…”

  Alana swallowed. Braidon struggled for the words, for the question he needed to ask. “Why…why is he hunting us? What does he want?”

  His sister shook her head, her eyes distant. “He wasn’t always so hard,” she murmured. “After you came and Mum…died, a part of him died with her. And his ambition, it became everything. I guess somewhere along the way I lost myself as well. But you, Braidon, you were the only pure thing in either of our lives. Yes, he loved you in his own way. That won’t protect you though, not so long as you stand in the way of his final goal.”

  “To end all magic,” Braidon breathed. “How do I have anything to do with that?”

  Alana shook her head. “The same way I did, until Enala took my place.” She looked a Braidon, her eyes gleaming. “He wants you to host the spirit of Jurrien, so he can kill the Storm God and take his power.”

  “What?”

  “He already took the power of the Light, when he killed Eric’s son. After killing Enala, he has Antonia’s God magic as well. Jurrien is the last one left. Once he has all three of the Gods under his sway, he believes he’ll be able to wipe all magic from the earth.”

  “But he needs me to do it?” Braidon asked.

  Alana nodded. “He tried to find another way,” she whispered, “but after we betrayed him…”

  “He no longer cares.”

  “No,” Alana said. She stood sharply. “That’s why I still have to go. I can’t let him take you, and if I stay here, I’m useless. But if I can get close enough to him, if I take him by surprise, I might be able to—”

  “He’ll kill you,” Braidon said, cutting her off. “He has an army around him, dragons and demons and Magickers. You don’t stand a chance.”

  Alana looked away. A cold wind blew down the valley, catching in her hair and sending it tumbling across her face. “Then he’ll kill me.”

  She reached up to brush the hair from her eyes, but Braidon grabbed her hand and pulled her around. “Damnit, Alana,” he snapped. “You don’t need to sacrifice yourself for me anymore.”

  “But—”

  “No,” Braidon all but shouted. He gestured back at the camp, anger mixing with his terror. “Why can’t you see it? Why can’t you see what Devon and Selina and all the others can see? I don’t need you to protect me! I need you to respect me.”

  Alana opened her mouth, then closed it and swallowed hard. She gave a sharp nod and dragged him into a hug. He held her close, feeling the sobs as they shook her, the silent grief. When they finally broke apart her eyes were wet with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re right, you’re not a boy anymore. I should have believed in you back then, given you a chance instead of keeping you from the world. I just…” She trailed off.

  “Wanted to protect me,” Braidon finished for her. He brushed a tear from her face. “It’s okay, sis. But I’m a man now. I won’t let you throw away your life for me.” He smiled. “Besides, do you even know how to find our father? He could be anywhere in the Three Nations by now.”

  Red spread across Alana’s cheeks. “Not exactly.”

  Braidon laughed despite himself. “Typical, always leaping before you look.”

  “And I suppose you have an idea?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just might,” Braidon replied.

  Alana shook her head, biting her lip. “Fine, but even if we find him, how do we stop him?”

  Braidon smiled. “Together.”

  Chapter 31

  A cheer went up from the Baronians as they stepped from the canyon out onto the rolling hills of Trola. Leading from the front, Devon forced a smile to his lips, though their joy did little to warm his heart. He stared out over the green hills, and wondered whether Alana and her brother too had survived the mountains, if they had come this way before them, or if they were still lost amongst the crags rising up behind the Baronian travellers.

  Two nights had passed since he and Alana had spoken, since their passion had exploded into rage. He had woken the next morning determined to mend the tear he’d opened between them, but he hadn’t even managed to step from his tent before the news reached him that she and her brother had vanished.

  Panicked, he’d sent out scouts to search for them, to bring them back so he might apologise and make things right, but it had been a hopeless effort. With their memories restored, the Tsar’s children were more than capable of disappearing into the wilderness. And with Braidon’s power, the Baronians might have been looking straight at them and still never seen them.

  The scouts had returned within the hour with no better idea of where the two might have fled. With Quinn still close on their heels, they could not afford to waste time chasing two ghosts through the Sandstone Mountains. With a heavy heart, Devon had ordered the Baronians to break camp, and they had continued their way down through the mountains.

  Now that he’d led them safely into Trola, all Devon could think was to turn around and march back into the face of the storm in search of his friends. But all around him, the Baronians were looking to him for guidance. He could not abandon them now, not after taking them from everything they’d ever known to these strange lands.

  “Where to now, hammerman?” Joseph asked as he came alongside him.

  Devon glanced at the man. His hand no longer hung in a cast and seemed to be healing well, helped in no small part by a paste Selina had creat
ed from moss and mountain herbs.

  “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, to be honest,” Devon grunted. “I’m not exactly popular here.”

  Joseph glanced behind them, where the snow-capped mountains still towered above. “You think they’re still after us, with the two of them gone? They only wanted to boy, didn’t they?”

  Devon shrugged. “Quinn and I have a bit of a history ourselves,” he rumbled. “I doubt he’ll give up until I’m six feet under.”

  “Sounds like we might be better off with another leader,” Joseph replied with a grin.

  “You thinking about leading a mutiny, sonny?” Devon asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Joseph chuckled, rubbing his injured arm. “No thanks. One beating is enough. Besides, we’re not on a ship. It’s not half as fun when you can’t throw the loser overboard.”

  Shaking his head, Devon returned his eyes to the road ahead. “You’re lucky I like having you around,” he commented. “Most kings would have hung you for your insolence by now.”

  “Ay, probably why I’ve never been fond of kings. Good thing you’re a Baronian, not a king.”

  Devon’s laughter rang from the hills. “I’m not a Baronian, sonny.”

  “Oh? I suppose you’re still a Plorsean then?”

  The man’s words gave Devon pause. “I suppose not,” he sighed.

  “You’re an outcast—that makes you a Baronian!” Joseph slapped him on the back. “Cheer up, there’s worse fates in this world of ours.”

  “Being stuck with you strikes me as one of them.”

  “Ay, shame you scared off that blonde lassie,” Joseph replied with a laugh. “Don’t know how you messed that one up, she seemed fond of you.”

  Devon flashed him a glare, and Joseph raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, still a touchy subject I see,” he said. “I can see when I’m not wanted.” He fell back into the ranks of Baronians behind them.

  “So do you have a plan, hammerman?” Selina asked, appearing out of nowhere.

  Groaning, Devon raised his eyes to the sky. “You as well?”

  “Me as well,” she replied, her thin lips drawn tight. “It’s only all our lives on the line.”

  “It’s not like we have many options to choose from, woman,” Devon grunted. “We either keep running, or turn and fight.”

  “I know which I would prefer,” Selina growled. “I wouldn’t mind taking a few pieces off that Quinn, after what he did to my people.”

  “You’d have to get in line,” Devon said. “It’s past time the man got his due.”

  Selina fell silent at that, her eyes growing distant. Devon shivered as he remembered what Alana had told him of the woman, about Quinn stabbing her through the chest and leaving her to die. Only the Goddess’s arrival had saved Selina, her Earth magic restoring her to life.

  “Quinn, and the Tsar,” Selina whispered finally. Her face twitched as though from remembered pain. “He killed the Goddess. What does that mean? Without the Gods…what hope do we have?”

  “We’ve survived well enough without them until now,” Devon replied. “I don’t know what the Tsar is planning, but I know there are people here in Trola who will stand against him. If we can enlist their help, maybe we can send Quinn and his Stalkers running back to Plorsea with their tails between their legs.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes,” Selina said, raising an eyebrow. “Anyone ever tell you you’re not much of a planner?”

  “Ha!” Devon smiled sadly. “I had a friend who used to say the same. He reckoned the Gods must like me, or I’d have been killed a long time ago.”

  “Well if that’s the case, you’d better hope you’re Jurrien’s favourite,” Selina replied wryly. “I take it your friend is no longer with us?”

  Devon looked away at that, pain gripping his chest as he remembered Kellian’s death. “No.”

  “I see.” Selina said, and they walked on in silence for a while. Finally she gestured behind them, to the retreating mountains. “Braidon and Alana, why did they leave?”

  “I don’t know,” Devon replied sharply, his heart twisting again.

  Thinking of his friends, he felt suddenly alone. First he’d lost Kellian; now Braidon and Alana had left as well. During their time in the forest, he’d grown fond of the young man, watching him come into his own. And Alana…

  His cheeks flushed as he remembered their last encounter. Not for the first time in the last few days, Devon cursed himself for his distrust. The pain in Alana’s eyes when she’d realised the truth haunted him. He wanted more than anything to take it all back, to return to that night and cast kanker aside, to tell her how much she meant to him.

  Yet in the moment, what he’d done had seemed right. With the hammer in his hand, her magic could not touch him, could not alter his thoughts, his emotions.

  It wasn’t until the moment she’d realise his betrayal, that Devon had realised he loved her. Not just the Alana he had travelled with, but the ferocious, confused, and loyal young woman she had become.

  But before he could say any of that, she had fled.

  Now all Devon could think about was what he’d say when he saw her again.

  If he saw her again.

  “They left the mountains this morning, sir,” the Stalker, Zarent, announced as he rode up.

  Quinn smiled, relieved to hear they were finally on the right track. For the past week they had trailed the Baronian force deep into the mountains, seeking to head them off before they reached Trolan lands. But with the boy shielding them, finding them had proven more difficult than he’d expected. In the forest, the Baronians and their wagons had left clear tracks for them to follow, but the bare stone of the mountains told little of their passage. The myriad of crevices and valleys that made up the Sandstone Mountains made their task all the more difficult.

  Now though, they were finally within striking distance. On their horses, Quinn and his force of Stalkers and soldiers would catch Devon and his followers by evening. Despite the Baronians’ greater numbers, Quinn had no doubt they would make quick work of their quarry. Devon, Alana and Braidon might offer a small pocket of resistance, but their power was small compared to the ten Stalkers remaining in Quinn’s command. Together, they would break any illusion the boy created, and bring him before the Tsar’s justice.

  Devon and Alana though, they were Quinn’s to deal with. He savoured the thought of the hammerman on his knees, begging for his life. There would be no mercy for him though, nor for any of the Baronians who had followed him. Only the boy would survive untouched, and after what Quinn had witnessed back in the forest, that was no blessing.

  As for Alana, Quinn was determined to ensure no harm came to her during the battle. The thought of her still made his blood boil with rage. She had mocked him back in the village, openly derided him in front of his Stalkers. No, after all she had done, death was too good for Alana. He would see her chained and brought before her father, so that he might petition the great man to restore the girl to some semblance of obedience.

  First though, he needed to catch them.

  “At the canter!” he called out to his Stalkers.

  The clatter of horse hooves echoed from the cliffs as they continued down the valley. The stone walls widened around them, slowly giving way to rolling foothills. Further down, grass began to grow once more. The rocky ground turned back to soft earth, the churned up dirt revealing the passage of hundreds of travellers.

  Quinn lifted his gaze to the hills ahead of them, watching for the first glimpse of their quarry. It was still only midmorning, and it would be hours yet before he had Devon and the others in his grip, but already his heart raced with anticipation.

  Soon.

  As the thought touched him, a cold breeze blew across Quinn’s neck. Despite the cloudless sky, a shadow seemed to pass overhead. Shivering, Quinn looked up as his gelding gave a cry and staggered to a sudden halt. Around him, the other horses were doing the same. Their screams rolled across th
e hillside as several reared, throwing off their riders and bolting.

  As the downed men chased after their mounts, Quinn dragged back on the reins, bringing his own horse under control. Whispering gently to the panicked beast, he looked around, seeking out whatever had so disturbed the animals.

  His heart lurched in his chest as he saw the shadow of a man standing on the path ahead. Cloaked all in darkness, nothing could be seen of his face, yet Quinn recognised him instantly. Hardly daring to breathe, he slid from his horse and dropped to one knee before the Tsar. Seeing him, the other Stalkers abandoned their mounts and did the same.

  “Your Majesty,” Quinn whispered. “Why are you here?”

  Soft laughter whispered across the hillside. “You are too slow, Lieutenant.”

  “No, sire!” Quinn cried. “We almost have them! No Baronian will be left alive come nightfall, and the boy will be yours.”

  The figure shook its head. Slowly, the Tsar approached. His feet made no sound on the earth, and Quinn realised with a start that the man was projecting himself from a hundred miles away. He shuddered at the power such a feat must have cost.

  “You might catch the Baronians,” the Tsar murmured, “but my son is no longer with them.”

  “What?” Quinn exclaimed, coming to his feet. “How?”

  “Their camp is no longer protected,” the Tsar murmured. “Their minds are open to me. My daughter and the boy have abandoned them.”

  “Why—?”

  “Enough!” the Tsar’s voice boomed, sending their horses bolting again. Quinn staggered back and again dropped to his knees as the shadowed figure loomed. “You have failed me for the last time, Lieutenant,” he whispered. “Return to my camp at once.”