The Sword of Light: The Complete Trilogy

by Aaron Hodges

  They had to end this, now.

  Tightening his grip on his blade, Gabriel charged at his opponent, determined to smash his way through to the demon beyond. There at least was a guilty soul, the one truly responsible for the chaos hovering over the capital.

  The guard grinned as Gabriel came at him, blade at the ready. Drawing on every ounce of his strength, Gabriel swung for the man’s helmet again. The guard raised his sword to deflect the blow but stumbled as one of his comrades staggered into him. Knocked off balance, the guard’s sword went wide and Gabriel’s blow crunched home.

  The guard’s eyes widened. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead as a low groan hissed from his mouth. Then he dropped without another sound.

  Gabriel released the hilt of his sword, its blade still embedded in the iron helmet. He stared at the dead man, the familiar guilt rising up within him. Looking down, he looked at the blood speckling his hands.

  You have to move, a voice hissed in his mind, returning him to reality. Slay the king!

  Sweeping up the fallen guard’s sword, Gabriel leapt through the gap left by the man’s absence. The guards to either side were caught up in battle and he passed unnoticed. Ahead the false king stepped back from the line and wiped sweat from his forehead, grinning as his men slayed another of Gabriel’s comrades. He froze as he turned and saw Gabriel approaching.

  His hesitation did not last long. His eyes studied Gabriel and he began to laugh, clearly unimpressed.

  Swallowing, Gabriel closed the gap between them. He held his sword straight, ready for anything the massive man might throw at him. Even so, the greatsword wielded by the imposter made Gabriel’s blade look like a toothpick by comparison.

  “Come on then, boy, try your luck. Let’s see the kind of man you would have been,” before Gabriel could reply, the imposter charged at him, swinging his blade like an axe.

  Fear ran down Gabriel’s spine as he ducked the blow. Then he leapt to the attack, his sword snaking out in search of flesh. The imposter grinned and batted his blows away with a gauntleted fist. Bringing his sword around, he swung again, attempting to split Gabriel in two.

  Gabriel stepped to the side, feeling the breath of the blade’s passage as it sliced past. His hackles rose on the back of his neck but he pressed on. All that mattered now was destroying this creature, before it led Plorsea into the abyss. Fist clenched around his sword, Gabriel attacked again.

  The false king stood waiting for him, sword held in a casual grip. As Gabriel attacked, the greatsword came sweeping down to block the blow. Pain shot through Gabriel’s hands at the impact and the blade slipped from his numb fingers. Gabriel retreated backwards as his sword clattered to the ground.

  The imposter strode after him, the greatsword raised for the final blow. Gabriel scrambled for the dagger he’d slid into his belt back in the barracks. The air hissed as the greatsword sought his flesh. Without looking, Gabriel hurled himself to the side.

  He struck the edge of the dais as the greatsword smashed into the ground where he had stood. Chips of tile scattered across the room and a jagged piece sliced across Gabriel’s face. Then his dagger finally came loose. He raised it before him like a talisman, looking up to see the false king preparing to swing again. Before the blow could descend, he hurled the dagger at the traitor.

  The imposter screamed as the blade caught him in the shoulder and sent him staggering backwards. His greatsword clattered to the ground as he reached up and grasped the hilt of Gabriel’s blade. With another cry he tore it loose. Blood splattered across the tiles as he turned and glared at Gabriel.

  “You will pay for that,” he raised his empty hand.

  Gabriel’s stomach twisted as darkness began to gather in the man’s palm. It swirled between his fingers, gathering force.

  “What?” he whispered, scrambling to find his feet. He glimpsed the fallen greatsword nearby and swept it up, turning to face the king. His body ached, battered from his fall. He was utterly exhausted, but he strained to keep the massive blade pointed at the imposter.

  “Die,” the false king growled, and Gabriel saw his eyes had darkened to pure black. He pointed his fist and a ray of darkness shot towards Gabriel.

  There was no time to move or think, only react. Gabriel drove himself forward, the greatsword raised to strike down the imposter.

  The wave of darkness rushed towards him and caught him in the chest. At its touch sickness swept through him, sucking the strength from his failing body. Gabriel’s advance slowed, yet even as the sickness spread he could feel the dark force weakening.

  With a cry of defiance, Gabriel forced his way forward and to his surprise, the darkness fell away.

  Gabriel glimpsed panic on the imposter’s face a second before his blow struck. The greatsword swept out, sliding beneath the king’s outstretched fist to take him in the chest. Without armour or chainmail there was little resistance, and he drove the blade in to the hilt. Then he stepped back, watching the rage turn to fear in the traitor’s eyes.

  The false king tried to take a step towards him, but his legs suddenly gave way. He collapsed to the ground, a thick blackness spreading out around him. Then, as every soul present turned to stare, a sickly black fog rose to cover the creature’s body. A foul smell filled the room, sending grown men staggering backwards in disgust.

  As quickly as it had appeared, the fog vanished.

  Gabriel stared at the spot where the false king had fallen. There was nothing left of the creature but a dark scorch staining the white tiles.

  Taking a breath, Gabriel turned to Fraser and sank to his knees.

  One by one, the guards and councillors did the same.

  “All hail the king,” the cry rose up from around the room.

  Head bowed, Gabriel stared at where the imposter had fallen, and smiled.

  Nine

  “We must march north,” Caelin sat at the council table and looked around at the assembled faces.

  Only a day had passed since the events in the throne room, but all signs of the battle had already been removed. The blood had been cleansed from the tiles and the ruined carpet removed. If he looked closely he could spot where the tiles had been cracked by stray blows, but otherwise the room was clean. Even the black stain left after the traitor’s death had been scrubbed spotless.

  Yet despite their best efforts, a darkness still hung over the capital. Their victory may have given them a chance, but the damage caused by the traitorous creature might yet prove irreparable. Men and women ringed the council table, many of whom had sat in judgement of them only two weeks ago. These were the same people that had left them to rot in the darkness, who had supported the false king to his dying breath. It was difficult to ignore that fact.

  “Of course,” Fraser replied, his tired eyes scanning the table. “There is no other option. Alone, we cannot hope to match the forces Archon will muster; we found that out last time when Fort Fall was lost,” he turned to Caelin. “But even with the army mustered, it could take a week or more to be ready to march. And with winter setting in, the journey itself will take weeks.”

  Caelin swallowed. The demonic king had done its job well, delaying their forces to the point where their arrival at Fort Fall would likely come too late to make a difference. A letter had just arrived from the north – Archon’s forces had arrived and were now preparing to make siege on the fortress.

  “Even so, we cannot abandon our allies at Fort Fall.”

  “Of course,” Fraser eyed the room again. “And anyone who thinks otherwise can join the traitor who replaced me,” he growled. Several men winced and dropped their gazes, unable to meet Fraser’s eyes.

  Beside him Inken chuckled. He glanced at her, glad to see the colour back in her face. Cleaned and fed, they were all looking better after a good night’s sleep. Though in truth he had slept with a lantern lit near his bedside. It would be a long time before he was ready to face the darkness again.

  Despite the rest, Fraser still looked
weary. Caelin saw through the man’s facade, seeing the darkness he hid from his councillors. That he could sit here and give orders at all was a minor miracle. The man had spent weeks locked alone in the pitch black of that cell. The mind of a lesser man would have been shattered into pieces.

  Even a man such as Fraser had come close.

  But there was no time for weakness now. Archon would not wait and they had no time to spare. They needed the king Caelin remembered, the one the people knew and respected. Only that man could get them through the coming days.

  “Okay, what do we do then?” Fraser questioned the table. “How do we reinforce Fort Fall in time for it to matter?”

  “The dragons,” Inken surprised Caelin. She blushed as the table turned to look at her. “Unless the imposter managed to insult them beyond repair, the dragons could reach Fort Fall within a few days. If we are lucky, they might be able to carry a hundred men between them. It may not be much, but it’s better than nothing. And the dragons themselves would also be a formidable boost to Fort Fall’s defences.”

  As whispers spread around the table, one of the councillors came to his feet. Caelin recognised him as one of those who had supported their imprisonment. “But can we trust them? They are beasts; what is to stop them from turning on us?”

  Caelin’s anger stirred in his chest and he struggled to keep his voice even. “Sir… despite what you might think, the gold dragons are for all intents far more civil than our own species. Certainly more polite than some humans I have met.”

  The man’s face coloured and he made to respond, but Fraser spoke over him. “Oh get out, Councillor Richard. And do not come back, or I will have my guards introduce you to my accommodation from the last few months.”

  The councillor paled. He stared at the king, his chest heaving as he fought to keep his rage in check. Then with a final exhalation of breath he spun on his heel and stamped from the room.

  Fraser waited until the doors at the end of the hall swung shut before he continued. “I like your idea, Inken. You and I shall visit the dragons today and offer my apologies for the insults my… predecessor gave them. I just pray the damage he caused was not permanent.”

  Inken smiled. “They are a prickly bunch, but they are also reasonable creatures. I am sure we can convince them to forgive us.”

  “What about the rest of the army? Can we send an advance party now?” Caelin asked. “A thousand men a week earlier may mean the difference between finding Fort Fall in our ally’s possession, or Archon’s when the rest of our forces arrive.”

  “But what if they’re still too late?” another councillor spoke. She looked around the room, her face apologetic. “If Archon’s forces have already broken through they would come on our men in the open. A thousand men would be slaughtered for nothing.”

  Fraser passed a hand across his face, his exhaustion palpable. “You’re right, of course… both of you. But there are no good choices here. We have been robbed of the time we needed to do this right. But even so, I have to agree with Caelin. It’s a gamble, but if we lose Fort Fall, we are doomed whether our army is separated or not. We will send a thousand men as an advance party. They will leave first thing in the morning.”

  He turned to Elton, who had sat quietly through the meeting, clearly uncomfortable with his sudden elevation to the council. “Elton, there are few I trust now more than you. I want you to lead the advance force.”

  Elton blinked. “But your majesty, I have never led men in open battle! I am only a guard captain; how can I lead a thousand men? There must be others… better suited.”

  The king nodded. “Ay, there might be. But none I trust, not now. I have other plans for Caelin, so it must be you. Can you do it?”

  Elton swallowed, eyes wide, and nodded.

  “Good. Go and prepare your men. I award you now with the rank of Commander. I will leave you to choose which men to take with you. I suggest you talk to the sergeants of each unit and go from there.”

  Elton rose and saluted. “Thank you, my king. I will.”

  Fraser nodded back. “Good luck, Elton. Do not let us down.”

  As Elton left the room, Fraser turned his attention back to the council. “Well, we have a plan. Let’s get to it. Caelin, you are to select a hundred of our best fighters and have them ready to depart at a moment’s notice. If Inken and I are successful, you and the men you select will be flying north by the day’s end,” his gaze swept the table. “The rest of you know your roles. I want the army ready to march within the week. Get to it.”

  Caelin took a breath as he watched the others stand and file out of the room. Gabriel, Inken and himself remained at the table, sitting in silent thought.

  He watched Gabriel closely as the last of the councillors disappeared. Gabriel had hardly spoken since slaying the false king, and Caelin still wondered how the youngster had managed it. The thing had been a demon or worse, a dark creature that no doubt possessed an equally dark magic.

  So how had Gabriel, an unskilled youth weak with starvation, managed to best it? Starved of his strength, Caelin himself had hardly been able to hold his own against the royal guard, let alone go up against the false king.

  But that was a mystery for another day. For now, they had work to do. All going well, they would be a-dragon-back come nightfall.

  He glanced at Inken. “Do you want one of us to go with you?”

  She flashed him a wry smile. “I think I’ll be fine, Caelin. And don’t worry, I’ll look after Fraser,” she winked at the king.

  Fraser scowled back. “Watch yourself, Inken.”

  Inken only laughed and stood. “Don’t worry, I will. Come on, let’s go see the dragons.”

  Caelin smiled as the two left trading barbs. Inken had a knack for getting the best out of people, for bringing them back from the darkness. Her strength had helped him keep fighting after his friend Michael had been killed in Sitton, and he had not missed the talk she had given Gabriel. If anyone could keep the king on his feet, it was her.

  Standing, he nodded to Gabriel and followed them out. They were already disappearing down the corridor as Caelin pushed through the great double doors, a host of guards at their back. Caelin made to follow them, already thinking ahead to what he would say when he reached the barracks. He would need to find men with a particular breed of courage if they were to ride the gold dragons to Fort Fall.

  “Caelin,” a voice came from the shadows to his left.

  Caelin turned, his heart sinking as Antony stepped forward to block his path. He knew the man from his days as a recruit. They had never been more than friendly rivals, but he could see the hate on the man’s face now.

  “Katya wasn’t a traitor,” he croaked, and Caelin saw there were tears in the guard’s eyes. “I knew her. She never changed, not like the king. It was her.”

  Caelin bowed his head. He’d been dreading this confrontation, but knew there was no avoiding it. Raising his chin, he looked Antony in the eye. “As I said yesterday. I was wrong. You’re right. She was not a traitor.”

  “Then why did she have to die? Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Caelin shook his head, guilt eating him from within. Since the battle he had heard more from the other guards about the relationship between Antony and the councillor. “I know you loved her, Antony.”

  “Do you?” he took a step towards Caelin. “How could you? How could you know what it’s like to see someone you love killed by her own people?”

  “I have seen my fair share of treachery, Antony. But this was an accident, and the only one to blame was that creature.”

  “And that boy, Gabriel,” Antony growled, taking another step. “He was the one who killed her. I cannot let him get away with it.”

  “No,” Caelin stopped Antony with a word. “It was not his fault; he did what he thought was right. And he did the same thing when he killed that treacherous creature. If anything, you should thank him for avenging Katya’s death.”

  Antony stared at
Caelin, his arms trembling with anger. Caelin met his eyes, refusing to waver. He would not let this man anywhere near his friend. Slowly, the rage in Antony’s eyes cooled and they started to water. The man took a great, shuddering inhalation and bowed his head.

  “Fine,” he breathed, then looked back up. “Then take me with you, Caelin. I heard the others talking as they went past; I know what you’re doing. Take me with you to Fort Fall. Let me avenge Katya’s death with the blood of Archon’s people.”

  Caelin looked into the man’s eyes and saw the desperation behind his rage. In that instant, he knew the truth. Antony wanted to die. He sighed, wanting to refuse the man’s demand but knowing he could not. Antony was one of the best fighters they had. His skill would be needed in the north.

  “Very well, Antony. You can join us.”

  With that he pushed past Antony and moved away down the corridor. Guilt hung in his throat, the weight of the man’s life heavy on his shoulders.

  *************

  Inken dropped to her knees on the damp grass, struggling to keep the measly remains of her breakfast down. The rough ride across the lake had not been kind, and it was a relief to have solid ground beneath her again. She had already thrown up once as they neared the shore, but she was determined not to repeat the event.

  “You okay?” Fraser asked from nearby.

  Inken forced a smile. “Fine,” they were alone now on the shore. The small sailboat rocked on the beach, the sailor who manned it leaning back against the mast with his eyes closed. Fraser had ordered him to remain in the boat while they went ashore. He had left his usual guards in the city, already growing weary of their constant presence. That, and he claimed it would be difficult enough to apologise to the dragons without marching up to their camp with a small army at his back.

  “Okay, whenever you’re ready then,” Fraser grinned, no doubt drawing some satisfaction from her discomfort after her joke earlier in the throne room.