Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  “Oh well,” Jared said to himself. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.” The woodsman chuckled, luck being the last thing he expected to find in Mica.

  Chapter 3

  Sasha shook Katya awake. The little window in their room was still dark.

  “What is it?” Katya mumbled, rubbing her eyes, and then quickly sat up in bed. “Is mother okay?”

  “Mother sleeps, but we must get up. Mala stopped by this morning with our orders to rise and be ready for battle before dusk. As we guessed from the guards at the gate yesterday, there is going to be a battle. There is much to be done to prepare.” Sasha’s thoughts turned inward as she mulled over a silent list. Katya, as her senses finally shook off the numbness of sleep, realized her sister was in the armor their father had made her this winter. It was a shining masterpiece with finely wrought vines creeping over the entire surface of the perfectly fitted breastplate. The sleeves were studded leather for better movement. Pauldrons, greaves, and bracers to match the breastplate armored the rest of her body. In the center of each bracer was a large star sapphire. She wore shin plates over her tall boots and carried a small plate half-helm in her left hand, as well as a kite shield strapped to her arm.

  “Battle? The passes have not melted all the way... how?” Katya asked as she arose, the cold morning air raising bumps on her bare skin. Pulling on her padded under-robe and then her blue velvet robes, she began checking her pockets for the herbs and small fetishes she would need for battle casting.

  “I don’t know, Katya, but the scouts have discovered around a thousand, armed ice orcs and men headed this way. We must get to the Schools and help pass out weapons and potions. The town guard has been up for two hours already finishing the repairs to the wall.”

  “One thousand? Very well, I am prepared,” the sorceress said. As she reached for her staff, Branden’s head appeared though the curtain that served as the bedroom’s door. His face was a tight with worry.

  “You girls ready?” He asked.

  “Yes, Father,” they replied in unison.

  “Good. Let’s head out. We’ll pick up some breakfast from the Ice Worm on the way.”

  The girls joined their father in the hearth room. “Sasha, would you please help me with the last of these buckles I couldn’t reach.” Branden wore a plain but well-made breastplate. The rest of his armor, although not as ornate, matched Sasha’s in style. Sasha helped him with the buckles a few inches below his armpits. A huge two handed hammer hung from his back, in addition to the blacksmith’s hammer attached to his belt. Hesitating, Branden looked towards his room where Dara lay. “Girls, should they take the town and I be dead... promise me you will return and not let the orcs ravage your mother.”

  Shock and horror crossed the twins’ faces, but it was Sasha who spoke first, “They would have to tear me limb from limb before I let that happen. I promise to return father if the walls are overrun.”

  “I promise,” Katya hissed, anger clear upon her face at the thought. Branden nodded and they left their home.

  The labors of the day moved quickly. Anyone able to fight was lined up at the Fighter’s School armory and equipped for battle. Catapults were assembled from their storage vaults along the walls, and any necessary repairs to the siege weapons were immediately made. Large stones and hay balls were lined next to them. The great cauldron above the main gate was filled with pitch, and the wood beneath it set ablaze. The sun, its red streaks across a purplish sky and obscured by dark clouds that hung over Snowhaven, had begun to set, foretelling one last snow before winter surrendered to spring.

  Mala, directing men to their positions after all was ready, beamed with pride. Snowhaven was not a town to be easily overrun. It has survived decades of siege even with its small number of inhabitants. However, never had it defended against such a large force. Mala’s lips curled into a feral grin. Let them come, she thought. We will repel them back to their frozen lands, as we always have. This was the first battle of the season, but the people of Snowhaven were hardened by training and well-rested from a winter of peace. The twelve Masters of each school lined the covered corridors of the upper wall. Each arrow slit was manned by a town guard, a warrior and a sorcerer. Four Master Sorcerers and four Master Fighters, each with a student in tow, left the corridor and climbed the tight spiral stairs to balconies that circled the four roof spires at each corner of the wall. Fighters paired up with sorcerers.

  Mala, Sasha, Pieter, a Master Sorcerer, and Katya ascended the East tower. They emerged from the tower topmost portal, arriving on its upper balcony. With a few adjustments to Mala’s plate, a strap tightened here and a spiked pauldron jerked to a more comfortable position there, Mistress Mala nodded to Pieter and the girls that she was ready. The veteran warrior never looked entirely comfortable in full armor, her movement constricted more than she would have liked.

  Without further delay, Mala and Pieter held each other’s faces, forehead to forehead, “By sword and spell we are joined. Until death shall part our bond, brother and sister are we.” Smiling, Mala patted Pieter’s clean shaven jaw before releasing him.

  Sasha and Katya repeated the Fighter Sorcerer battle oath, “By sword and spell we are joined. Until death shall part our bond, sisters are we.” The sorcerers then drew salt from inner pockets and turned slowly clockwise, letting it seep through their left hands and opening them completely upon the last rotation. Coming to a quick stop, the sorcerers’ right hands struck the butts of their runed staves against the wooden balcony floor. Invisible power roiled down from the sky and vibrated up from the earth. The air crackled with electricity. Sasha and Mala strung heavy longbows and pulled an arrow from quivers on their backs, nocking them but not drawing on the bow yet.

  An hour passed in silence except for the hum of energy the sorcerers’ kept cycling through their staves. The sky was much darker now, the long shadows of the trees stretching across the field. No one spoke, their eyes searching the North road. Snow began to fall softly, decorating the girls’ braids like freshwater pearls. Never interrupting his chant or moving his staff, Pieter used his free hand to pull his cowl over his short brown hair. Their hearts beat with the trained slowness before battle, their warm breath steaming in the cold air. Soldiers could be heard on the walls, stamping their feet to keep warm. Torches were lit. The sorcerers continued to use their bodies and staves as conduits, never letting their hold on their summoned power falter. Sasha glanced at Katya. A year ago, beads of sweat would have been dripping down her face, but Katya remained cool and calm, her mind focused and her body relaxed. With her channeling power so close, Sasha thought she could feel their hearts beat in rhythm together.

  A warning cry came from the wall below. A scout came charging forward on a lean steed, iced foam breaking off from its mouth as it ran. Three more scouts broke the tree line at a full sprint, racing for the safety of the doors that were still a good quarter mile away. Mistress Mala shouted the order to open the gates. Branden echoed the command to the four men next to him by the gate. They nodded and slid the huge log through its metal rings along the back of the door, pushing on the handles of the great gears in slow circles to open the gate. When the scouts were all in, the men labored to close them again, sweat beading on their brows. Branden unslung his huge two-handed hammer from its back sheath, setting it against the wall, and helped them. The rumble of the log bar being replaced echoed in the silence. Sasha and Katya strained their eyes towards the tree line. Nothing appeared. The wind picked up, whirling the snow across the field like dancing ghosts.

  Sasha inhaled sharply as rows upon rows of ice orc eyes appeared on the edge of the tree line, reflecting off of Snowhaven’s torchlight. She pointed and Mistress Mala nodded.

  “People of Snowhaven, the enemy has arrived,” Mistress Mala shouted in a commanding voice from her balcony that circled the tall corner tower beneath its conical roof, down to the warriors and sorcerers waiting on top of the walls below. Sheltered from the snow beneath a shingled roof that ran
the length of the wall, they had a clear view of the oncoming army through the many arrow slits before them and an unobstructed view of the courtyard through the open air behind. Word passed quickly down from the tower’s balcony, running along the two floors of defenders that lined Snowhaven’s northernmost wall, each floor connected by the tower’s interior circular stairwells. The ropes and pulleys that the twins had seen earlier, hauling up new roof shingles, were now hauling up additional arrows for the archers. Soon everyone was at the ready and watching the field.

  Suddenly, hundreds of shimmering forms materialized out of the falling snow, swaying and jerking in their exhaustion as if they were corpses come to wreak vengeance upon the living. A breath of fear passed over Katya and quickly vanished, realizing they were indeed living flesh and blood. Sasha examined the enemy as it began to move across the field. The huge orcs wore breastplates coated in icicles of drool. They gripped large, crudely shaped axes and swords in their blue-skinned hands, howling greedily for blood long denied them behind massive helms. Human men marched at their side, Sasha noted curiously. Mala had mentioned this, but actually seeing them was almost too strange to believe. It worried her. Most of the humans’ faces were wrapped in shadow. Those that she could see were grim, their mouths contorted into cold scowls. The young warrior woman frowned at what appeared to be sergeants overseeing well-organized units of fifty, each of the leaders’ helms bearing miniature white bat-like wings affixed over their ears.

  “Mistress Mala, they are organized. Someone is... leading them,” Sasha eyes widened in realization. Katya almost lost her hold on her channeled power at the concern in her sister’s voice.

  “It appears so,” Mistress Mala’s eyes narrowed, as they settled on a mounted rider on the far right of the field, in full plate with guards surrounding him. A man held a flag at his stirrup. She could barely make out the design, a black background with a white crown of ice in its center. From the rider’s helm spouted a black mane, and he carried a two-handed sword, its blade curved and sharpened on one side with cruel spikes along the other. The horse itself was black and thickly furred, its bulk easily dwarfing the men around it.

  “This is no casual raid, which is more reason to fight smartly. Be at the ready,” the veteran said, glancing from the army to Sasha’s paling face. The swordmistress’ face lightened. “We have never lost a battle from these walls. Have faith and may the Great Mother strengthen our arms and fortify our minds.”

  The enemy sergeants let out battle cries, which the whole enemy army took up, and they surged forward in tight groups. On the walls of Snowhaven, warriors drew on their bows and picked their targets. Sasha felt Katya slip away into the timeless calm that only a sorcerer can experience before releasing a spell. The warriors shivered as power surged next to them. The sorcerers began their most powerful siege spell, all chanting as one.

  “Bless this enemy, but may it fall. Eldritch lightning fill our hands, with your touch we shall save our kin,” Pieter and Katya chanted together.

  Globes of white crackling energy filled all the sorcerers’ hands, casting eerie flickers upon the warriors’ armor. Katya’s hands shook a little, while Pieter’s were firm in his grasp of the spell. The enemy was close, and long ladders could be seen being carried forward from the rear.

  “Loose!” Mistress Mala screamed. The night air filled with arrows.

  “Release!” Master Pieter shouted. Katya and the Master Sorcerer opened their hands toward the charging orcs and men. Streaks of lightning ripped through the darkness to any living thing in its way, each streak forking multiple times into several targets. The whole field flashed as bright as daylight for a moment. The howls and screams of Snowhaven’s enemies filled the chill air.

  Despite the first attack, more men and orcs poured forward, trampling the bodies of their injured and dead and reaching the bottom of the wall. Arrows flew in both directions now, but very few of the enemy’s arrows met their target, most glancing off the slate roof of the wall.

  A ram was brought up to the main gate. However, its carriers died painful deaths, as boiling pitch poured over them and into their armor, melting their flesh. Wooden ladders were planted in the dirt and raised against the walls. Half the Snowhaven soldiers abandoned their bows, drawing swords to attack the orcs coming up the ladders, while the other half continued to fire arrows at the oncoming enemy waves. Warrior sorcerer pairs on the wall assisted the soldiers with deadly accuracy.

  Their massive spell done, tiny spheres of pulsing energy flew from Katya and Pieter’s outstretched hands into their enemies, the orbs exploding as soon as they touched flesh. Sasha and Mala worked furiously with their bows, their drawing and firing becoming one blurred motion.

  For some time the enemy was held at bay, but a few made it up the crude ladders and onto the wall’s shingled roof. Scrambling along the sharply-slanted covering, the invaders soon gathered around where the wall met the corner towers and began scaling the stone spires, clambering towards the open balcony where the twins fought.

  Katya shrieked as a pale blue hand the size of her head grasped the edge of the wooden balcony, its yellowed nails digging into the wood for extra purchase. Mistress Mala and Sasha dropped their bows, scooped up their shields and drew their swords, taking up protective positions in front of their sorcerers. A well-muscled arm pulled the creature up, and the orc heaved his trunk-like legs over the railing onto the wooden balcony. The wooden structure moaned under the invader’s considerable mass. With two hands, he swung a huge axe at Sasha’s head. The warrior blocked with her shield, but the weight of the blow sent her sprawling. The orc laughed a low guttural guffaw that showed his large yellow fangs in a face that looked like a strange mix between human and ape.

  Mistress Mala did not hesitate, thrusting her sword neatly between the ice orc’s ribs. Pain painted his face, and thick spittle flew from his lips. Howling in rage, his rancid breath accosted Mistress Mala’s nostrils. Too close to swing his weapon effectively, he dropped his axe and struck the older woman across the jaw with his clawed fist. The force of the blow flung her back, perilously close to the railing. Master Pieter quickly summoned a swirling ball of energy and flung it into the ice orc’s chest. The force of the impact sent the creature crashing through the rail and off the balcony. It fell screaming to its death far below.

  Rising from the ground, Sasha quickly looked at Katya to see if she was okay. Her staff lay in the doorway to the tower. A thin man, in billowing black clothing that hung off his wiry frame, held a hand over Katya’s mouth and an obsidian dagger to her throat, backing her into the shadows of the tower stairwell. Katya’s dark eyes were wide in terror, as she gripped the forearm of the hand over her mouth, and the dying light of a spell faded from her fingertips. The man studied Sasha with dead white eyes for a moment and then took one last step into the shadows.

  “No!” Sasha screamed and charged into the stairwell. Her sister and the man were gone, disappeared into thin air. The tower was empty. Passing her sword to her shield hand, Sasha reached out in an expression of desperation to the darkness. She stood dumbfounded on the stairs, shocked at her sister’s inexplicable disappearance.

  Suddenly, she felt an invisible force grasp her hand. Katya, she thought. Sasha planted her feet, leaning back to anchor them on the stair. The struggle continued for a few moments, before the red-headed warrior felt the hand slipping away. With nothing else to hold on to, her sister’s hand jerked out of her own.

  “Sasha!” Mistress Mala called. Sasha, shaking off her shock, reluctantly returned to the balcony and followed her teacher’s pointing arm. The enemy leader, with his guard, had spurred his horse into motion. He appeared calm, confident, and unconcerned at the bodies of his dead and wounded that soiled the ground as he left the battlefield. Some of the more organized attackers retreated with their sergeants, while more than a few stayed behind to continue the assault. Master Pieter looked sadly from Sasha to the empty doorway of the tower to Mistress Mala.

&
nbsp; “We must not lose our focus,” he spoke, his voice hoarse from spell-casting. The women nodded, retrieved their bows, and turned back to the battle. Sasha spared one last glance at the tower doorway, horror in her eyes at the mysterious occurrence that had happened only moments before, and then reluctantly returned to the task at hand.

  Chapter 4

  When Jared arrived in Mica a few days later, the tavern was easy to find. He stepped out of the woods onto the main road leading into the small mining town, remembering that it was the only real street in the place. The dirt road led directly from the mine, on the eastern end of town, through the center of the small berg, and past the business office of the LaTolliver Mining Company. It paused slightly, lingering at the local tavern, before heading west out of town towards the main Tradeway, which was a week’s journey on a heavily-laden horse-drawn cart.

  Since he had arrived just after nightfall, Jared easily located the tavern, it being the only building in town from which light poured forth into the street. The sounds of people shouting and singing, often at the same time, were also a good indication to Jared where the ale house was located. Unbuckling one of the leather straps across his chest, Jared let his sword slip down from across his shoulder blade to rest comfortably at his waist. He patted the slightly curved sword sheath, sending a quick plea to the Great Mother that he would not have to draw it tonight. He also realized that should he have to draw it, the blade was best kept within easy reach.