The Sword of Light

by Andrew G. Wood

  Happy the troll finally understood what he meant, Karesh just checked all three of the balgraf were dead before wiping his sword clean on the green grass that grew beside one of the small cottages. He had no sooner done so when he heard a clicking sound and turned to see an elf holding a crossbow emerge from the unlocked door. “They all dead?” the elf asked.

  “They are,” Karesh said rather proudly, replacing his blade across his back. “Uhm, do you mind?” he added nodding to the crossbow being pointed so carelessly his direction.

  “Oh Sorry,” the elf replied realising what he was doing. Karesh just nodded, waiting for some kind of thanks, but it appeared none was forthcoming. “You should pack up your things and move to Neylarin. The balgraf are swarming everywhere,” Karesh eventually told the elf.

  The elf looked unsure, “I got a youngster inside with his mother. Live in that house there,” he said pointing to the other building. “Well tell them they need to pack up and head for the capital. Trust me when I say you do not want to be left out here any longer than necessary. The darkness is coming,” Karesh replied turning to look at the open doorway.

  A young elf probably similar in age to the human child known as Dylan stood in front of a young female who looked about twenty, but Karesh knew from experience she could well have been forty or more. “Are you heading to Neylarin,” the elf said in a soft voice that sounded very similar in tone to his mothers. Karesh smiled at the similarity and nodded, “I found these two in an outpost. Nobody else was alive.”

  “Can we travel with you…Is that a troll?” the elf asked changing her question mid-sentence.

  “Yes it is a troll,” he sighed already tiring of the question, yet he knew it would not be last time it would be asked. “And yes you can travel with us if you wish. Do you have a horse?” he asked

  “I have one! The old elf piped up pointing to a smaller building attached to his own house.”

  “Well best get it saddled and ready. We leave in five minutes,” Karesh replied sounding far more confident than he had ever felt.

  Despite his young age, Karesh knew Orcs matured much younger than the other races, mainly because they did not live as long. However, since the arrival of Finley into his life, he had felt things change and quite rapidly. No longer was he a scared, lonely child that forever clung to his adopted mother's side. Now, he felt alive, hungry for adventure and danger, as if something inside him had awoken.

  The horse led out by the old elf was a farm animal, bred for working not travelling, and as a result, Karesh suggested they use it to carry the packs. This effectively freed up one of his own horses, although quite how he was going to have three people ride it, he was not sure. The female elf thankfully had not gathered many things to bring with her, unlike the elderly one who appeared to want to bring half the contents of his cottage. Only after Karesh had told him in no uncertain terms that it was not going to happen did the elf rather sullenly agree.

  With the larger horse packed up with supplies and three others to carry seven of them, he was unsure as to how best to solve the problem. Fortunately, Akeev seemed to recognise there was not enough space for them all to ride and after a little awkward discussion and no small amount of arm waving, Karesh finally understood what the troll was trying to tell him. “Oh you want to walk,” he said using two fingers to imitate a walking motion.

  “Walk,” Akeev said nodding his head happy that they had eventually managed to understand each other.

  With that problem solved, the elven lady took one horse with her own son, the old elf rode with Dylan, although the two both wanted to hold the reins meaning Karesh had to intervene, and he was left to share his horse with Rosie. After making sure they were all ready, and thanking Akeev for volunteering to walk, they all set off to head for the elven capital, still some several miles away. With Sessi once more moving ahead of them to keep them alert to any dangers, Karesh asked Akeev to keep an eye on anything behind them, although he wasn’t sure that the troll, fully understood what he was asking.

  Karesh pondered as he rode, the balgraf seemed far more aggressive than they had been of late and was beginning to think something had changed. Previously they had been more of a nuisance, now, however, they appeared to be destroying and attacking everything in their path. For the beasts of Darkness to have overcome an elven outpost so quickly, they must be moving in larger groups than he had yet come across. With an ever growing list of hangers-on, he knew he needed to get to the capital as soon as possible. The beasts were indeed crawling this land, and eventually, they would stumble across them in larger numbers. If that happened, he knew there would be only one outcome, death for all of them.

  Chapter 7.

  James, the young Prince, and heir to the throne of the human lands watched as the latest batch of conscripts made their way rather sullenly into the garrison courtyard. Although instructed to be careful and have at least two guards with him at all times, the young royal felt confident in his own abilities should any trouble occur. While he would never openly defy his father, he did push the boundaries of his restricted movements a little. For one, he was not supposed to be in the garrison yard. Apparently, as they were now taking in conscripts, a young prince should not be seen there associating with the lower classes, something he did not agree with. Secondly, James had also been out as far as the main gates to check if anything was going on outside the city, much to the dismay of the poor guards who were assigned to protect him.

  Leaning casually against a wall, the prince attempted to look at the face of each man as they entered. It was evidently clear, to him at least, that none of them wanted to be there, but since it was now inevitable the forces of the Darkness were once more priming for war, it was something that needed to be done. James noticed some of the conscripts were probably no older than he was, although clearly, they had not had such privileged upbringings. Despite the fact his father had asked him not to go to the garrison yard to train, he hoped his presence there might show these new people that even the Royals were preparing to fight.

  As the new batch of recruits lined up for inspection, he watched as two of the Instructors walked along, inspecting each new face as they passed. He thought it quite sad that these people were being asked to do this, and although he knew it was necessary to protect the realm, was not over-enamoured about the way the soldiers went about it either. He cringed, almost embarrassed to be associated with these Elite Royal Guards who were tasked with the training as one of the new recruits was pulled unceremoniously out of the lineup. A man, probably in his mid-twenties, wearing dirty, torn clothes was manhandled to the ground in front of the others.

  James took a deep breath, trying not to let the matter get to him. One of the guards started shouting at the man for no reason other than he was the one being made an example of. With a look of fear on the poor man’s face, he was then dragged back to his feet and ordered to get back in line. James thought it was hardly surprising that so few people had volunteered when the troubles had first started if this was the way they were treated. Although a regular visitor to the garrison this had been the first time he had actually taken the time to watch new recruits being brought in. Usually, his time here was spent with his own tutors away from the other soldiers.

  As the two guards walked up and down the line, telling these new recruits that they were the worst bunch that they had ever seen and that they were all likely to end up as balgraf food, James was wondering as to whether he had seen enough or should go and intervene. Noticing the young Prince’s look, one of the guards with him spoke. “You do not approve of our methods Sire?”

  “I do not,” James replied sharply.

  “They are the dregs of society Sire and deserve to be treated as such,” the other guard added, causing James to turn his direction sharply. With the look of thunder on the Prince’s face, the soldier immediately realised he had something wrong, and although he was unsure what, he apologised for speaking out of turn.

  James was feelin
g rattled, it was not often he was rude or nasty to anybody, but he certainly had to bite his tongue at that moment. Returning his attention to the new recruits, he watched again as a much younger man, probably no more than a boy was dragged out of the line and onto the floor. Again one of the guards started shouting, telling the recruit to get up and ask ‘how dare he not stand upright when on parade.' James’ patience finally snapped when one of the guards then struck the lad around the head. The blow may have only been little more than a slap, but it was not needed and uncalled for.

  With his two personal guards having little option but to follow, James marched over the garrison yard towards the two other soldiers and the line of new recruits. “Leave that man alone!” the Prince snapped. The soldier was about to turn and make some remark until he realised just who it was giving the order.

  “Your Highness. Have you come to inspect the latest rabble?"

  James took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “You Sir will apologise to the recruit now!” he said firmly.

  The soldier looked a little shocked at the fact he was the one being reprimanded. The young recruit in question looked even more fearful now James was intervening as he nervously stood there, the centre of attention.

  “Do it!” James snapped again. It was evident the soldier did not like being forced to do so, but after a short pause he turned to the recruit and spoke, “Please forgive me. I should not have struck you,” he said through gritted teeth. The young man just nodded his head rather timidly before stepping back into line as ordered.

  James knew he was probably overstepping the mark, and realised that his father would undoubtedly be told of what he had done. However, he did not care, and moreover, he was going to annoy the soldier even further for his actions, “You Sir will report to your commanding officer for punishment. We cannot have members of the Elite Royal Guard going around bullying people. Go!” he shouted, raising his voice a little more than he meant to.

  At first, the soldier in question wasn’t quite sure what to do, but after a few moments hesitation then decided it was probably for the best if he did as was asked. James then turned to the remaining guardsmen, not just the one instructing but the two on duty beside him as well. “These men are going to be fighting for the freedom of our lands. You really think bullying them is going to motivate them? They need feeding and clothing, and to show there is something worth fighting for other than further misery,” he added feeling quite pleased with his little speech. As to whether the three soldiers were actually paying heed to what he was saying or merely humouring him, he didn’t much care; he had made his point, and that was enough.

  After casting the young man at the centre of attention a smile, James thought it probably best to make his way back to the palace, where he should have been anyway. “Carry on,” he said to the remaining soldier, as he about turned and headed off, his two guards falling in beside him. While walking, he glanced up to the gloomy looking sky and spotted a dark shape gliding over the city. Since their arrival a few days earlier when they had circled above the city and caused pandemonium on streets, he had spotted several since then.

  As of yet, the creatures seemed to be in ones and twos, flying high and not threatening the city in any way. James had tried to deduce what they were up too, so much so he had even spent hours on the palace roof looking out for them and observing their behaviour. As best he could tell, he reckoned they appeared to be merely looking or searching and had likened them to a bird of prey scanning the ground below. As to exactly what they were looking for, he could only guess, and although he had passed his observations on to his father, the man did not seem overly interested.

  One proactive thing that had come from the arrival of the flying balgraf in the skies above the human lands was the creation of a new weapon. After the panic a few days earlier, it was immediately apparent that these beasts of the darkness were all but immune to anything the soldiers on the ground had. A standard crossbow could only a shoot a short way up into the air before the bolt inevitably came crashing back down to the ground. Even the best sorcerers in Carison could send fireballs or beams of energy a similar distance, meaning that so long as the balgraf stayed above that range, they could not be touched. As a result, these beasts had been flying overhead, circling, observing or whatever it was they were doing, and there was absolutely nothing that could be done to stop them.

  The new weapon was really just a take on an older design and was basically just an oversized crossbow on a rotating stand. While this device was not the perfect answer it would, when made and fixed in position, at least give the soldiers guarding the city a better range at which to start firing should the balgraf decide to make any aggressive move.

  After deciding to have a stroll around the Royal gardens for a while, the fact James had two guards shadowing his every move was starting to annoy him a little, and so he decided to venture back into the palace. No sooner had he walked through the main entrance doors when he was stopped by none other than the Commander of the Royal Guard.

  “Your Highness, A word if I may please?” the man asked politely. James knew immediately what this was about although was surprised word had travelled so quickly of his little display in the garrison training yard only half an hour or so ago.

  James waved his hand, “Of course. What is it you wish to discuss?” he replied politely even affording a smile as he did so. While the Commander was clearly not happy with the way he had belittled one of the soldiers, the man never raised his voice, not that he would dare. “As a result, Highness, your father has asked that I ban you from the area altogether,” The Commander informed him, although in truth knew that if the Prince decided to wander into the place, there would be little any of the guards could do to stop him.

  “I do not like the way your men treat the new recruits, Sir,” James replied, although not wanting to get into an argument had a feeling this was likely to lead to one anyway.

  “These men are risking their lives to defend us, and your soldiers treat them like some bunch of second-rate citizens,” he added before turning to walk away, not allowing the Commander to add anything more.

  Feeling annoyed and frustrated at being followed everywhere, James decided to go to the one place he could actually be alone. After being escorted up the stairs and down the corridors of the palace, he left the two guards at the door to the royal quarters before heading into his own room; His own private sanctuary away from all the madness outside.

  After staring out over the back gardens for a while, he moved over to the sword kept in the glass box, before gazing up at the picture on the wall he had found and cleaned up. Convinced the sword was unusual in some way, despite his father not thinking so, James was sure that the one being depicted in the painting was the very same as the one in his glass case. Yet despite all the waving it about and holding up as the character in the picture was doing, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Leaning in a little closer, he looked at the young man holding the sword aloft in the picture, trying to see the face partially covered by a hood, while the artist had not bothered putting in any great detail he thought he could see enough to envisage what the person looked like. One thing did stand out a little though, and that was the person holding the sword aloft was a little unusual as he thought he could see a tiny bit of blonde hair being shown, a trait not often found amongst humans. Elves, of course, had light coloured hair, but the man depicted did not look like an elf. There were other characters in the picture one of which did look like an elf, and what he thought was probably an Orc, but he paid them little heed.

  Fortunately for James, the dark image that his former tutor Alim had thought was Abalyon, Leader of the forces of darkness, had not shown himself again. As to the reason he had selected James out, neither he nor the old tutor had worked out. Having kept his promise, the young prince had duly not mentioned the incident to anyone else to avoid any further concern for his father. James had noticed how the man was now suffering und
er the constant strains of leadership, a fate he knew would one day await him.

  Chapter 8.

  Finley had spent about an hour just standing and watching from the battlements built into the façade of Durn Raldun. The forces of the Darkness had amassed in large numbers just half a mile or so the other side of the walkway that gave access to the city entrance. Circling high above them were the now familiar sight of the flying balgraf, just gliding in circles looking down upon them.

  Balin, the Commander of the Dwarf forces, had hastily ordered some kind of defence against these new airborne creatures in an attempt at trying to stop them repeating the manoeuvre that had so nearly seen them gain a foothold a short while ago. As a result, the Dwarf soldiers were now fixing into place all along the battlements, hundreds of long thin spears. While this was certainly no answer to the problem, It was hoped at least, that having them in place might make it more problematic for the flying beasts to get in low enough to be able to drop the other balgraf in. As to whether the spears would even work, they guessed only time would tell.

  Being as the forces of the Darkness appeared to be waiting for something, Galdrac had told Finley to grab an hour or so rest. While the youngster had pleaded his case that he should be there to fight just in case anything started, the old Mage was resolute in his wishes. After just checking in to see his mother’s progress and being told in no uncertain terms by Mazen and two other healers to leave them be, he made his way to a quiet corner of the city.