The Brotherhood (The Eirensgarth Chronicles Book 1)

by Philip Smith

  “Thanks,” the hunter gasped.

  “Don’t mention it,” the chief huffed, taking off for the bridge, the hunter on his heels.

  “Olivian!” Alaire shouted as they rushed down the bridge to the lower level. He could see no blonde heads amidst the sea of people running and screaming.

  “Olivian!” he shouted again.

  “I don’t see her!” Gerik shouted, jumping on one of the railings for a better view. No sooner had he done so, an arrow whizzed down through the forest and struck his shoulder with a sickening ‘thud.’ The blow knocked him off balance, and he fell down and tumbled down the last few steps to the deck.

  “Gerik!” Alair yelled, hauling his friend to his feet. Gerik growled in pain and rage looking up to the Great hall’s deck where several imperial archers were now standing, losing arrows into the crowd at random. Several women and men were hit and tumbled to the deck floor, crying out in agony.

  “Get to the forest!” Alaire shouted to the villagers. He whirled about to see several soldiers armed with pikes now marching across the bridge and down the stairs. Gerik grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the platforms.

  “Go, Alaire, find that girl of yours. I can handle these.”

  Alaire took one last look at his scruffy friend. His honor told him to stay and help Gerik fight, but every fiber of his being was screaming for him to find his daughter. He handed Gerik his dirk.

  “You might need this. I’ll see you down below.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it!” Gerik chuckled, taking the dirk in his shield hand while flourishing his axe in the other, he whipped round and began to charge up the steps towards the oncoming soldiers. Alaire quickly jumped onto the deck and began pushing his way through the crowd as they stampeded to the southernmost point of the village, unfurling the emergency rope ladders to escape. He cried out for his daughter again and again, feeling icy cold desperation gripping his heart every time he called out to hear no answer.

  “Liv! Olivian!”

  “My lord!”

  Alaire turned to see a young woman about Liv’s age staggering over to him. She had a nasty cut on her upper lip and a bruise developing on her left eye. Her makeup was running from tears that were welling up and spilling over her cheeks.

  “Matildra!” Alaire cried out. “Matildra, are you alright? Have you seen Olivian?”

  “She got up and went to get some punch right before the crash! I haven’t seen her since!” Matildra blubbered. Alaire handed her his handkerchief.

  “Can you get yourself to the forest?”

  “I think so, my lord,” she sobbed, dabbing her eyes.

  “See that you do. Take care and keep running south if you can. Understand?”

  Matildra nodded, and Alaire took off towards the railing. If Olivian had gotten up to go get punch, there were only two real alternatives for where she was. One was at the bottom of the forest, crumpled under the remains of an Elder tree. Alaire again refused to acknowledge this as a possibility. The other was that she’d been swept up in the crowd and pushed towards the north side of the village, where his beloved and younger daughter were heading at this very moment. If Oilvian had listened to even one of his lectures on being prepared for a disaster, she would head back to the house.

  When he reached the railing, he quickly surveyed the best way to get back to the north side of the village towards their house. The stairs and bridge were not an option, so he would have to improvise. There was one route the soldiers wouldn’t know about: the pipes. Wood pipes from the pump house ran under most of the platforms. If he could get under the deck and get ahold of one, he could swing and crawl his way to the other side of the Great Hall, getting to the north side of the village. He looked at his hands. He was not the young man he used to be; he wasn’t sure his strength would be enough to get him where he needed to go.

  “Father Creator, hear my prayer,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned over the edge of the platform railing, looking down. “Let me get my family to safety, and then you may call me home, if it be your will.”

  With that prayer, Alaire swung his legs over the railing and slid down into the night’s inky blackness. He barely caught the pipe mounted to the underside of the decking joist, but he managed to get his hands around it tightly enough not to fall to his death. He clutched as hard as he could in spite of his missing fingers. The chief sucked in a huge breath and began to climb hand over hand towards the north end of the village.

  Where he hung gave him a perfect view of the forest floor swarming with soldiers. They seemed more occupied with climbing into the village than the villagers trying to make their escape. Yet patrols of ten or so waited on the forest floor, hunting down stragglers. The market was in flames, as were the lifts, but Alaire didn’t take the time to watch any longer. He kicked out so he could swing forward, and began inching his way towards home.

  ◆◆◆

  “Hurry, Alwasu!”

  Paige dove after her mother as they shoved their way along with frightened villagers. Burning wood filled her nostrils. The haze of smoke whirling around her on all sides made her stomach sick. She could see men leaving houses all around the village, armed with spears and swords and whatever armor they could manage in their haste. She looked out across Kapernaum to the lifts as she sprinted, heading to the north end of the village. All four of the elevators were wreathed in flame, trapping everyone in the confines of the bridged city. Men she knew extended rope ladders and nailed them to the platforms as people rushed to get out of the nightmare that they had once called home.

  Paige felt her heart stop as they made their way through the fountain deck. She caught the flash of light off a steel breastplate on the bridge parallel to them. Soldiers surged through the village. Several of the armored men had leapt onto a smaller platform, engaging several warriors. Tears stung in her eyes as she watched the strongest men fiercely protecting the fleeing women and children.

  “Paige, you have to go,” Elenass said, pushing her towards the next bridge.

  “Mother, no!” Paige protested. “Papa said—!”

  “Listen carefully: No matter what happens, you have to go. Do you understand? Go to your father’s study. Second drawer of his desk. Break the lock. Take the scroll and find your father down below. I’ll meet you there.” She took one more moment to kiss her daughter gently on the forehead before placing her hand over the necklace and Paige’s pounding heart.

  “Guard this with your life.” She shoved Paige forward and turned to face the soldiers that were hacking their way past the warriors.

  “Mother!”

  “I’ll be fine! I’ll meet you at the north end of the market! Hurry!” Without another word, her mother took a running start at the platform. Before Paige could shout after her, Elenass leapt into the night sky with a single bound from her long, strong legs and landed evenly on the opposite platform. She approached the soldiers from behind, drawing out her silver hairpin, which let her platinum-blond locks fall around her pointed ears like a waterfall. She said something Paige could not hear, and then to her astonishment, the hairpin spit hot, blue sparks from its end like slag spraying from a blacksmith’s hammer. The pin elongated and twisted like soft dough from Dirgah’s bakery, eventually sparking into a long, curved sword with an elegant silver handle. Elenass advanced on the men who had been giving chase to several young women and raised her sword high.

  “You! Raven-heads!”

  The soldiers whirled about and saw the elf striding towards them defiantly. This gave the terrified women time to get to the next bridge and make a hasty escape. The chieftain’s wife leveled the tip of her blade at each of the four soldiers individually.

  “Give chase to something that might bite back for a change.”

  The four men approached cautiously, their heavy boots clomping onto the wooden platform. Two soldiers held drawn swords, while another held a spear, all dripping crimson with the blood of innocent friends. The fourth, wearing a large feather in t
he center of his turban, stepped forward to take charge with a large mace in his right hand.

  “Look at her ears, boys!” he snapped. “That’s the one your prince wants. Take her!”

  They all raised their shields and began to advance on Elenass.

  “Best of luck,” Paige’s mother spat, holding her sword ready.

  Paige felt panic grip her. She knew Mother had intended for her to obey and go right back to the house. But seeing her alone, outnumbered, and standing between the soldiers and the stream of people fleeing to the bridge, Paige couldn’t leave her.

  She frantically looked for another bridge to that same platform, but all the bridges were the same, packed with villagers stampeding to their dwellings and to emergency ladders to the forest floor. It was too far for her to jump. She looked about her for a rope or a vine, anything she could use to swing over. Her eyes locked onto a hanging lantern dangling on a rope strung up between the two decks. It wasn’t much, but it was her only option.

  “Out of the way!” she shouted, pressing through the throngs of people flooding the platform. “Move!”

  She looked over worriedly to see her mother engaging all four men at once. Paige had never seen her mother harm so much as a fly, and now she fought like an acrobat in a carnival. Her sword made a whistling sound as she swung it left and right, parrying one blow while sidestepping another and ducking a third attack. Never had her mother expressed a hint of martial inclination; for all the secrets she couldn’t keep, this one was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying.

  Paige shoved and pushed her way across the deck to the hanging lantern and stopped. Nothing but sky and the ground below stood between her and her mother, nearly twenty paces ahead. Paige took a deep breath and backed up four paces, waiting for a break in the frantic crowd. She lunged at the rail at a run, heart pumping. Without so much as a blink to the ground below, she vaulted her way onto the rail and jumped.

  As she jumped, a panicked villager tripped behind Paige. Paige lost her balance as she hurled herself at the lantern.

  Her heart lurched as she twisted in the air, wildly groping at the suspended lantern. She felt her fingertips brush the rough wooden base. Paige snapped her hand shut like a vise, her knuckles cracking as the whole weight of her body dropped down towards the forest floor and snapped the lantern’s rope taunt. She cried out, latching onto the lantern with all her might as it swung slowly back and forth with her momentum.

  “Alwasu?” she heard her mother scream, and Paige saw her falter upon locking fearful eyes with her daughter for a brief second. One of the soldiers took the momentary distraction and swung his sword quickly and efficiently, catching the elf under the rib cage. Elenass cried out as blood began staining her beautiful dress, her slender fingers pressing her side in agony.

  “Mother!” Paige screamed. Elenass gripped her sword and quickly got her balance back, managing to catch the swordsman on the neck with the tip of her blade. The man dropped to his knees, clutching the wound.

  She stepped on her attacker’s spear and drove the iron head to the wooden deck. When he stumbled past her, she dispatched him with a quick slash to the abdomen, catching him between his steel breastplate and thick leather belt. He went down like a sack of stones, but the mace-wielding officer and the second swordsman quickly took his place.

  Paige kicked with all her might and began rocking the lantern back and forth, inching her way towards the other platform with each swing. She flexed her abs and kicked her legs as high as she could, preparing to let go on the final swing.

  Her mother fought frantically for her life now, both men engaging her with ferocity. She began to stumble with each step backwards. Paige knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She took a deep breath, swung forward, and let go, flailing her arms to grasp at the platform railing. Barely grasping the rail, she pulled with all her might, heaving her small frame up and holding herself there with her crossed arms. Trying to catch a foothold, she looked up in horror, locking eyes with an officer noticing her where she hung helpless.

  He disengaged from Elenass, striding towards Paige with heavy steps, spurs rattling against the planks of the platform. She tried pulling herself up, but she kept slipping on the smooth boards. The man raised his mace, quickening his step. Paige clambered and heaved with all her might, managing to push herself up on her forearms and then hitching her leg over the railing. The man began to run, shouting as he pulled the mace back for a strike.

  His expression suddenly changed from fierce rage to blank shock as he fell face first onto the deck, Elenass’s silver sword sticking out of his back through his mail. Paige looked past him at her mother, whose arm was still outstretched from the throw. For a brief moment she held Paige’s gaze, her bright blue eyes welling up with tears as she clutched her bleeding side. Then the swordsman behind her brought the point of his curved scimitar down into the elf’s back, and Paige screamed. Her mother slumped over onto the deck.

  Anguish surged through her body with renewed strength. Paige clawed her way up and over the railing, hitting the deck and immediately lunging at the soldier, pulling her mother’s sword from the dead officer as she did so. The thunder clap above was no match for the storm broiling inside her. Paige charged the soldier head-on, sword at the ready just as her father had trained her all those times as a child.

  The soldier stepped up, a grimace across his scarred, bearded face. His eyes flashed in the lighting as the first few drops of rain began to cascade through the leaves of the canopy overhead. He held his sword ready, standing his ground and letting the princess come to him.

  Paige let out a battle cry as she engaged the soldier, hacking and slashing at him with everything she had. He deflected the fierce blows with practiced ease. It became clear to Paige that even in her rage, she was not going to defeat him by technique alone. She would have to outsmart him. She began to slow, taking the defensive more and more.

  Seeing her back off, the attacker became more fierce and confident. She began giving ground, backing up towards the railing. The closer she got, the more furious the man’s attacks became. Paige waited till the last moment possible, inching her way towards the wooden barrier.

  The swordsman pulled back for a powerful thrust, and Paige knew this to be her only chance. She slid her feet apart just like Papa had taught her and made her practice a hundred times over. As the man’s arm descended, she crouched and caught his glove in her hands and deflected the man’s momentum, causing him to lose his balance. Paige swept her foot under his leg. With the drizzle now pouring from above, the wood was slippery enough that the soldier’s legs slid out from underneath him, and he landed heavily on his back with a thud. Paige brought her hands together and jumped, throwing her full body weight into the man’s steel breastplate.

  He gasped and coughed as the wind was sucked out of him. She rolled off of him, grabbed the extra length of fabric in her sleeve, and wrapped it around the man’s neck, pulling as hard as she could. He kicked and thrashed, trying to grasp his sword again, but the princess put her foot against his shoulder and pulled as hard as she could. He kicked for a few more moments, then slowly became limp as he passed into unconsciousness, his body slumping to the platform.

  Paige felt the tears slide down her face as she shoved the man to the side, crawling over to where her mother lay motionless looking up at the sky. She gasped with barely-constrained sobs at the sight of her mother, who lay still in a pool of her own blood mixed with the rainwater falling from the sky like tears of the Creator. Mother barely sputtered, unable to take full breaths. Paige pulled her up to a sitting position in her lap, the princess wiping the blood and wet, mangled hair from her mother’s face.

  “Mother? Mother, please!”

  Elenass looked up at her daughter, trying to reach up and stroke Paige’s face.

  “Alwasu?”

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “You have to go,” she sputtered. “You must… get the scroll… father’s desk…”

 
“No, Mother, please, don’t go!”

  “Time is… almost gone. Alwasu. You must… go… Take… take Klaíomh. She… she will protect you.” Mother was reaching for her discarded sword, and Paige grabbed it, handing it to her mother. The elf smiled feebly, clutching the beautiful saber.

  “Soighren,” she whispered, the elvish word for “return” lilting off her lips like a cool brook over smooth river pebbles. Blue sparks danced around the blade, as the sword morphed back into a hairpin that Paige’s mother pushed into her daughter's shaking hands.

  “Call her name… she will protect you,” she coughed, heaving for her final breaths. Paige felt hot tears pouring down her face, contrasting with the rain drenching her now.

  “Alwasu. Promise me… promise me you will run.”

  Paige gulped. “I will.”