The Sword of Einiko (Swords of the Bloodline Book 2)

by A. R. Wilson

Jurren tried to climb the pile. Loose pieces clattered under his hands and over his feet.

  “It’s no use. We have to find another way.” Azredan pulled at Jurren’s shoulder.

  Wheeling back, he knocking into Kidelar. Arkose caught the scholar and righted him to his feet.

  “He’s going to do something to her.” Jurren looked up into the gap above them.

  Another voice spoke behind them. “No, he won’t.”

  Jurren spun to see another man dressed all in black. This one had long dark hair and a much simpler dress of shirt, pants, and cloak.

  “Where is she?” Jurren stalked towards him.

  “The Master needs her whole. She is safe for now.” The man in black held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “Where is she?”

  “Knowing where she is will serve you nothing as long as The Master holds his sword. That is your target.”

  “He’s right Jurren.” Kidelar put a hand on Jurren’s forearm to urge him to lower his sword from pointing at the stranger. “Einiko is too powerful while he bears his talisman.”

  The man in black’s eyes widened, his arms drooping. “What was that name? Einiko?”

  Kidelar turned to the man. “Yes.”

  The man in black began to shake. His arms twitched as he lowered to the ground.

  “Is it possible?” Azredan took a step forward.

  “We don’t have time for delays.” Jurren glowered at Azredan. “We need to get moving now.”

  “Give him a moment.” Azredan knelt beside the man, placing one hand on his head and the other on the man’s knee. “By the power of the Ever One, be made whole. Return this man to what he once was.”

  Convulsing, the man spread along the ground. The sight alone was enough to cause Jurren to pause in his anger. Of all the times he had seen Azredan speak healing over someone, they never responded like this. Red lines stood out on the man’s face and hands, the only exposed skin, then turned black. Dark liquid seeped out of his skin, misting into a vapor as it trickled onto the floor like dense steam. Angry scars bubbled out along his face and scalp then smoothed into fresh skin. Then his ears started to elongate.

  Arkose backed from the display. “Oh, come on! How many secret elves are we going to find in this land?”

  The stranger began to gag, quickly increasing into full-body heaves. Snakes of dark mist released as though his soul purged itself of an ethereal infection. The ghostly vipers stretched over the ground as they joined with the previous trails, then thinned into nothingness. He calmed as the entity left him.

  “Einiko... Einiko...” The man in black burst into a fit of giggles.

  “We have to find Tascana.” Jurren tugged at Azredan’s arm now that no one else needed immediate attention.

  “She’s not the one you need to find.” Black fabric slapped out as the man stood to straighten his cloak around his neck. “Until The Mas— until Einiko is separated from his sword, you will never find her.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Everything. My name is Jerricoh, and I can help you.”

  “That is not your name.” Azredan moved to stand before him.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Jurren struggled not to grit his teeth as he spoke.

  “Trust me my friend, we do.”Azredan turned his attention back to Jerricoh. “You were once my dear friend, Samren.”

  Jerricoh’s face twitched, then he sucked in a deep breath. Grabbing the collar of Azredan’s shirt, he pulled the elf close. “I am Samren. And you must to follow me.”

  Azredan’s drab gray cloak billowed out as he blindly pursued the man in black. Arkose looked over at Jurren. Should they go? Kidelar gave a single nod then ran after them. Jurren shrugged and followed suit. His ears pounded too greatly to listen to that inner knowing. He had been so close. So close to holding that sword and ending all this, but the halfling had slipped through his grasp. The next time, he had to be more prepared. That inner knowing had showed him so many things he couldn’t possibly know any other way. Perhaps if he could still his mind enough, the same prompting would give him what he needed to defeat Einiko.

  Catching a glimpse of a boot here and a flap there, he plunged through the halls at the end of an angry parade. Gradually, they came to more stairs, more halls, and ended in a small room with none of the decorations lining all the previous areas. This one only had a stone column with a large, glass sphere placed on top.

  Samren yanked the orb free and smashed it to the ground. The pieces shot out then hovered in place a split-second later. Black and purple shards flashed then softened to lavender and gray, eventually returning to clear glass. The shards floated over the ground like lazy insects.

  “There. Now he can no longer control the hidden paths.” Samren gave a triumphant smile as he swept past them out of the room.

  “Where to now?” Azredan matched Samren’s joy.

  “This way.” Samren thrust out his thumb.

  “For you, not for me.” Jurren shook his head. “I’m going that way.”

  Azredan’s brow furrowed but he nodded in agreement. “Go where you are led.”

  “What about us?” Arkose pitched a thumb between him and Kidelar.

  The scholar moved to fall in step behind Azredan. “Follow whom you must, and refuse to fear.”

  Arkose folded his arms as he shifted his weight away from them. “Well, I guess if the elves aren’t sticking together, then it’s up to me to stand by Jurren.”

  Not an ounce of the sarcasm or taunting pricked at Jurren’s soul. He was too overcome with gratitude to care. “You honor me. Let’s go.”

  Without another word, they broke into a run. The footsteps of the other men faded away behind them. The ground started to rumble again. This time, the shaking increased until large cracks split open along the floor. Suddenly Einiko stood before them, slamming his sword against one of the cracks. The floor burst open. Jurren leapt to the side as the stones beneath his feet gave way. Swiping out his sword again, the warlock caused lightning to crackle towards them. Jurren steeled himself as it harmlessly passed right through.

  “Die already!” Einiko shrieked his displeasure.

  “Don’t you remember?” Jurren took a few cautious steps forward, minding the weakened ground. “The power in your blade rightfully belongs to me. And I’ve passed through the Eternal’s Flame. If you want to destroy me, you’ll have to do it like any ordinary mortal.”

  The halfling’s face jerked as the muscles in his jaw flexed. His breath coming quick, he repeatedly tightened the grip on his sword. Then he pointed the blade out to the side. Arching it up and over, the hall fell away from him. Stones broke in a cascade of destruction. Jurren slipped into the gaping hole in the floor behind him. Chunks of rock rained down and he clambered against the wall. A grunt next to him indicated Arkose had fallen as well, and had moved to safety. In this lower hall, Jurren scrambled to find a way to Einiko. Yanking open a door, he scaled the stairs on the other side and pulled out several daggers. At the top, he came up a dozen yards behind the warlock and to the left. The halfling looked over his shoulder as though he heard them coming.

  Jurren released a blade. With a flick of his wrist, Einiko deflected it. Jurren threw another dagger again, and again. The warlock held out a hand and paused, as though he expected it to release a force capable of stopping them. Jurren marched forward. A moment later, the muscles on Einiko’s neck stood out. He shifted his shoulder, angling his wrist so the full of his palm faced Jurren. Still nothing. Growling his frustration, the halfling gave another swiped of his sword. Jurren broke into a full sprint, then dove and wrapped his arms around Einiko’s waist.

  Instantly, the ground thrust them upward. Through level after level of the castle, they crashed right through to the roof, and burst into open air. Higher and higher they rose on a single column of rock. Wind rushed over Jurren as he switched from trying to take Einiko down, to clinging on for dear life.

  Poised at least four st
ories above the highest point in the castle, Einiko regained his laugh. “Only one of us will die from this height.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Jurren dug in his heels. Einiko slammed the handle of his sword into Jurren’s shoulder. Digging his weight in all the more, Jurren wrapped both hands into the straps laced against Einiko’s sides and heaved backward.

  They were in a freefall. Einiko squirmed to work free. Adjusting his grip, Jurren clamped onto the arm holding the sword. Something hard cracked against Jurren’s forehead. Then his vision went dark. He vaguely sensed jarring into something then lumps scraping along his back.

  The next thing he knew, he was swinging back and forth. Something pressed against his throat and ears. Blinking away the fog, he saw an expansive view of the castle gardens. His arms swung at his sides. Looking up, he saw the hood of his cloak snagged over one of the decorative tips pointing out of the edge of a roof. He tugged at the bunching against his neck. The wind caused him to turn and the hood cinched tighter. Under his chin, the clasp holding his cloak moved, ripping a long tear. Jurren jammed a hand into the gap and pulled his body weight into it. The sound of tearing came from both above and below his head.

  The freefall lasted only a second. His feet shot out as he kicked a few shingles loose on the roof. Landing hard, he skidded as he worked to steady himself upright. As the edge raced towards him, he slightly bent his knees. He caught his heels and came to a stand before plummeting into another fall.

  Einiko’s face rose to eye level, a dozen feet away. Great wings, like those of a dragon, had sprouted from the warlock’s back. He bared his teeth as he gripped the sword.

  “I don’t know how you are able to deflect my power.” The halfling’s voice seemed to surround Jurren. “But if this is the only way to kill you, then so be it!”

  Lightning crackled at the tip of the blade. Jurren leapt to the side as Einiko swung towards him. The space where Jurren stood moments before collapsed, the explosion causing his ears to ring. Another explosion took out the next section of roof, and he fell into a pile of broken pieces of wood. Something pierced his calf. Rolling away from the gap in the ceiling, he pressed into a wall.

  He reached down and pulled out a splinter the width of his thumb. “Mmm!”

  Another crackling explosion and Jurren scrambled to the far side. Wood crashed around him. The room went dark for a moment, then blinding bright as a setting sun highlighted his location. Einiko’s shadow moved to hover over the hole. Jurren glanced right and left. The room’s door stood barricaded with debris.

  Only one way out.

  He clambered to the top of the pile of broken wood and stone, then took four bounding steps before vaulting out the gaping hole in the wall. With outstretched arms, he reached for Einiko. The warlock flapped backwards, and Jurren missed him by inches. Arms flailing, he soared to the next roof. The world slowed into agonizing detail. Almost as if that inner knowing had stalled time to show him every possibility for his next move.

  “That roof has a steep pitch. The next has a gentler slope. Ride the first to land square on the second.”

  Slowing the movement of his arms, he angled himself feet first and braced to land. His knees jarred for a moment on impact, then eased into the ride of skating along the shingles.

  The surface changed to iron. His boots caught and he tumbled forward. Rolling, he kicked his feet to avoid the spikes protruding from the edge. This time he was prepared when the roof surface he leapt to changed from stacked wood to rough metal. He used the newly acquired traction to run to the other side.

  Can’t keep running. I need a plan.

  A flurry of white at the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. Where those horses running towards the castle? Whatever they were they couldn’t be good.

  The bellow Einiko released nearly caused Jurren to lose his footing. A second cry convinced him to glance over his shoulder. No flying warlock. Jurren stopped running. What happened? A deep growl sounded from the far side of the tower where Jurren stood. Should he go back or continue on to the flat expanse of roof up ahead?

  Murmured cries of excitement came next and Jurren retreated from the edge. Slipping back, crouched below the peak of the roof, he peered over to see two black wings sprawled out. Einiko’s blond hair in a disarray between them, unmoving at first. Then the spines of the wings pulled in as the warlock gathered himself onto all fours. As Einiko stood, Jurren saw a dagger fall from the man’s side. The bloody, gaping wound closed on itself. Two more blades fell at the warlock’s feet.

  He almost completed the thought of wondering who threw the daggers. Then Jurren saw something far more fascinating. The sword. It had fallen from Einiko’s hand and rested on a ledge below, out of the warlock’s sight.

  The urgency of that inner knowing flashed anew. Jurren scanned the area and saw the ledge ran along the roof, then turned to follow underneath where Jurren hid. That far overhang would cover him as he walked to the place where the sword had fallen. Ducking off the edge, he moved as quickly as he dared. More screams and shouts from multiple voices called out. The pounding of Jurren’s heart blocked out most of them. They were but muffled hints compared to the welling in his chest. Another corner and the sword would be his!

  Black shrouded Jurren an instant before an unseen force slammed him into the castle wall. Somehow, he grabbed hold of the ledge before falling. The next surface below him loomed at least three stories down. And flat. The moment his eyes registered the height of his fall, the ledge gave way under his hands. His lungs could scarcely pull in a breath as he watched the sight of that distance roof race towards him.

  Then he felt the sensation of being ripped back and sideways. He reached up to fight against it. A female voice shouted at him.

  “Daddy, just hold on.”

  Tears burned as the fire within him grew. How dare that warlock impersonate his daughter! Then he caught sight of black wings moving to block their path up ahead. Jurren turned to see a green-eyed, auburn girl her loved for sixteen years, framed by white wings, staring defiantly at Einiko. Her brow set like flint.

  “Stand down Einiko!” Her voice rasped with power.

  The warlock released a shriek of rage. Fire licked up his clothing but somehow Einiko wasn’t burned. “You traitorous witch.”

  “What did you expect me to become?”

  “Drop him or I’ll teach you a new meaning of pain.”

  “Einiko!” She shouted with a force that pressed the word into the air. “His name is Einiko, and he is no longer your master.”

  The halfling streaked towards them, sword drawn. Something buckled and cracked below them, but Jurren didn’t have time to see what else Einiko had destroyed. Tascana dove to the right, banking hard left, then pulling another hairpin turn as they rounded a corner. Jurren tucked his legs in hard to keep from having them fling wildly. They came to a stop over the roof of a hall.

  “Run now!” Tascana released him.

  Jurren caught his footing but didn’t run. Spinning on his heel, he took in the sight of white wings pumping hard to intercept. His hands trembled. Tascana. His precious Little Mally had sprouted wings like that heinous warlock. But she was fighting. Was she still the same young woman who clung to him the day of that first goblin sighting?

  “Jurren!”

  The insistent voice repeated its request a few times before his brain registered he needed to answer. Turning, he saw Azredan hanging out of a window at the end of the roof. The elf waved towards himself frantically.

  “My daughter?” The phrase blurted out as a question. Jurren wasn’t even sure he knew what he had seen.

  “He won’t kill her. He can’t, she’s too valuable.”

  The pregnancy.

  Azredan held up a dagger. “Get in here and get ready.”

  Finding his feet, Jurren ran towards him. “What’s the plan?”

  CHAPTER 27

  As Jurren approached the window, that man in black came scrambling out. His black
hair now wrapped in a tether at the nape of his neck, causing those pointed ears to stick out. A duel set of straps ran from Samren’s shoulders to opposite hips boasting at least three dozen blades. He looked ready for war.

  “Get loaded up.” Samren skitted past him, walking nimbly on the shingles, then scuttled over to the leeward side.

  Inside the window, Azredan ducked into the strap for a quiver of arrows. “Your daughter made us an armory.”

  Jurren peered in. Blades ranging from a few inches to a few feet filled a long table. A rack on the wall held more bows than Jurren had ever seen stored in one place. Arrows, slings, ropes, axes, scabbards, and several other forms of weaponry lined the shelves, walls, and hooks. Not even the smith shops of Kovarilos held this great of an array.

  “Tascana made this?” Jurren pushed on the windowsill to hoist himself up. “How is that possible?”

  “Einiko’s been training her. Here, take this.” Azredan handed Jurren two bows, bouncing them as though telling him to pick one. “Fill up on as many arrows and daggers as you can carry and still be able to run.”

  “And then what? He’s trying to bring this castle down on top of us.”

  Azredan grinned. “So what do we need to do?”

  Jurren set his jaw to calm the rising anger. “We... we need to distract him. Hit him from all sides until he drops the sword again.”

  The skin around his eyes crinkled as his grin deepened. “Exactly. Kidelar is already out there. Tascana released the slaves in this castle. Soon they will join the fight too.”

  “Where’s Arkose?”

  “Alive. I have no idea where, but I do know he’s alive.” Azredan secured another batch of arrows in a tether at his waist. “Keep yourself close to Einiko.”

  And with that, the elf launched out the window. His lean form sprinted along the roof. Jurren hefted the bow in his hand then scanned the ones on the wall. He jammed one into one of the empty slots of the dual scabbard. Testing the weight of a sword, he picked one to put in the other slot. Three quivers of arrows, a couple dozen daggers, a length of rope, and he felt ready for anything.