Ferran fumed but kept his mouth shut. Too many times in the past he’d gone against the desires of mages and every time had paid the price.
“Fine. The boy can come but I cannot promise his safety. If we are to reach Tentiv alive then we are going to need more than just two men able to fight and three children with no training.’ He held up a hand to quell, Alira and Luxon’s protests. ‘There is another in this city that I want with us...I just hope she’ll forgive me enough to listen to what I have to say.”
***
15.
It had been a good six years since Ferran had willingly chosen to walk the streets of the stone quarter. This part of the city was renowned for being the home of Caldaria’s less than respectable citizens. It was a well known fact that the guild of thieves known as the Fleetfoots had a presence in the warren of ram shackled stone houses.
The sound of a bar room brawl came from an alleyway to his left. He pulled his black hood tighter about his face and took a deep breath. He hated this part of the city. It was here that he had spent much of his misspent youth. He smiled at the memories of being a snot nosed cocky kid who wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. The smile abruptly faded as other, darker memories resurfaced.
He picked up the pace and made his way across the rickety wooden bridge that led across the pungent stream that ran through the quarter. Being just down from the alchemist district meant that the fast flowing water was often contaminated with all sorts of dangerous poisons and dangerous magical property’s. Many were the number of children that had played in the fetid waters only to fall ill, or worse die. The mages from the medica did their best to help, but resentment towards the spell casters who lived in their crystal towers was high.
It was ironic that even in the one city where the mages were allowed to practise their spells and magic’s they were disliked. Ferran shrugged his shoulders, Master Durak had been right; if the mages defied the old law then most of the common folk would turn on them out of fear and old resentments.
Even he, a Nightblade had to be careful outside Caldaria’s walls. In the small villages and towns in the countryside he was often met with distrust. Even when saving them from the beasts of the void they would be reluctant to offer him any thanks.
Unconsciously he walked. He knew the stone quarter like the back of his hand. It only took him a few minutes to find his destination. Nestled into a stone wall was a worn wooden door. Above it hung a wreathe adorned with mystical objects and runes. Etched into the stone on the right hand side was a sigil warding against evil.
He took a deep breath his stomach fluttering with nerves. Would she forgive him? Would she even hear what he had to say? Cautiously he approached the door and knocked on the wooden surface.
The door creaked open a notch to reveal a small lad. The boy was no older than eight his dirty face and long shaggy black hair gave him away to be one of the street urchins that lived in the quarter. The Fleetfoot thieves often used the many orphans and homeless children as lookouts or in some cases as distractions.
“Is she in?” Ferran asked.
The boys green eyes went wide.
“I don’t know who you’re talking bout mister,” the lad answered nervously. The boy was to about to slam the door shut but Ferran jammed it open with his foot and forced it open. The boy fell onto his backside and scrambled to his feet. Ferran moved quickly and grabbed the urchin by the arm. He spun the boy around and glared hard into his face.
“Is she in?” Ferran asked again. This time the boy nodded in the affirmative. Ferran released the lad and with his boot kicked him out into the street before shutting the door. He found himself inside a place that brought with it bad memories. A small candle was the only source of illumination in the living area, a broken chair stuffed with straw sat in one corner and a simple bookshelf lined the wall. To the side was a tiny kitchen area complete with several baskets full of dried fruit and bread. Directly in front of him was a narrow stone staircase which led up to the tiny homes two bedrooms.
Absent minded he ran a gloved finger over the back of the chair.
‘It was here that I did it,’ he thought as memories came flooding back. He was jolted back to reality by the feel of a sharp blade being pressed into the back of his neck.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” snarled a familiar female voice. Ferran raised his hands to show he was unarmed.
“I had hoped you would have forgiven me by now Sophia, I did what was necessary,” Ferran said sadly. Slowly he turned to see the woman who wielded the knife. She was stood on the stairs with a dagger aimed at his head.
He almost caught his breathe. She looked the same as she had done the last time he had seen her all those years ago. They had been lovers once but any look of kindness for him was absent from her eyes, instead all he saw was hate. Her long black hair was tied into a top knot and her large brown eyes were as fierce as he remembered. Sophia Cunning, the witch hunter who had won his heart was as beautiful as ever.
“Forgive you? You murdered my father you bastard and then left me at the roadside to hold him in my arms as he died. I should kill you!” Sophia yelled.
For a moment Ferran thought that she would follow through with her threat and plunge the blade deep into his heart. He held his hands up and walked forward so that the tip of the blade pressed into his chest, at this range his leather armour would do little to slow the weapon.
“Then do it if it will make you feel better. I did what was necessary; if you search your heart you will know it to be true,” he said.
For a heartbeat she hesitated then she lowered the blade. Some of the fire left her eyes to be replaced with sadness. He had wanted to see her so many times since that night but knew that it would only have brought them both pain.
‘Damn her father, damn the witch hunter general and his foul deeds, what is done is done, I did what I did to save the realm and to save her. One day she must realise that,’ Ferran thought angrily.
“What do you want from me Ferran?” Sophia said dully. She sheathed the dagger into her belt and sat heavily into the broken and worn chair.
“I need your help. Grandmaster Thanos has tasked me and a small group to seek out the Diasect, to find out why they have not intervened in the war and to find answers about this..” he paused pulling the N’gist amulet from his tunic pocket. He immediately sensed its power trying to feed off of his own.
Sophia’s eyes went wide. She leapt out of the chair knocking over some books from the shelf. She staggered backward to lean heavily against the wall.
“Where did you get that? It’s impossible! Get it out of here!” she yelled. Fear was evident in her face.
Ferran quickly wrapped the amulet back into the enchanted piece of cloth in which he used to transport it and tucked it back into his tunic pocket. The cloth had masked the amulets power preventing it from feeding on the magic users around it.
“The Baron of Retbit used a number of these to infiltrate the city during his raid. We intend to find out who provided him with them and what the Diasect knows about them. Please Sophia you know about the N’gist cult better than anyone” Ferran begged.
He had known it was a long shot just to ask her. Showing her the amulet was bound to get her interested. She and the order of witch hunters had spent decades rooting out those who followed the dark ways and nothing was darker than the N’gist. Sophia glared at him a mixture of emotions flooding through her. Finally her expression firmed.
“What do you have in mind?” she sighed.
***
16.
Luxon had triple checked his pack and had spent the previous days practising constantly with Master Ri’ges. Kaiden had also taught him the basics of swordplay something that he seriously doubted he’d ever get good at. Yepert too had been put through his paces by the old mage. Each of them had been taught most of the spells of the lower ring in a crash course of lessons that had pushed them both to their limits both mentally and physically. Alira too
had joined them for one of the days. Her power was strong as was evident when she set the training rooms curtains ablaze instead of the candle at which she had been aiming for.
Ferran meanwhile had been busy gathering supplies and horses for the journey. With the gold Delfins given to him by Thanos he had acquired two destrier horses for himself and the witch hunter Sophia. Kaiden would ride his own horse Herald. For the two mages and Alira he had bought three shire ponies. The sturdy animals came from the Caldarian countryside and were used to rough ground after living and working in the regions rocky foothills.
The group met at the city’s main gate at dawn. The horses were already loaded with supplies of food and weapons. To Luxon’s surprise Sophia’s horse was covered in a sturdy harness which was filled with items.
“We witch hunters always go anywhere well prepared,” she said with a wink. She wore a purple cloak over a suit of tight fitting black leather armour. The material pronounced every curve of her supple body, for a teenage boy like Luxon it was a pleasant sight. Slung across her back was a longbow and on her hip a quiver of deadly looking barbed arrows.
Yepert was already mounted on his pony. They all wore cloaks but the mages wore no weapons save for small daggers which Thanos had given to them the previous night. The younger boy smiled with excitement.
“I can’t wait to get going Lux, this is so exciting!” Yepert giggled. Luxon couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s enthusiasm. It was something that he did not share. The sense of dread had only grown stronger.
Alira wore a blue cloak over her travel tunic and trousers. On her feet she wore leather boots that rose high on her long slender legs. Her blond hair was tied up in a top knot; she flashed him a nervous smile before climbing into the saddle.
The Knight Kaiden also wore a cloak over his mantle and chainmail armour. At his hip and in it’s sheathe was his trusty long sword. He was whispering soothing words into Herald’s ears which pricked higher at his master’s words.
“Luxon!” came a shout. He turned to see Hannah running up the wide avenue. She skirted her way past a group of traders ducking under a rug which two men were hauling across the street. She stopped in front of Luxon.
“I didn’t want you to go without us saying goodbye” she said breathlessly. She gave him a big hug. He savoured the smell of her perfumed hair and squeezed her back tightly in response. He didn’t want to leave her. Now that he was leaving he realised just how much he didn’t want to leave her behind.
“You come back safe,” she whispered into his ear. He stepped back keeping her at arm’s length and smiled.
“I promise you. It would take the ending of the world to stop me coming back here...and to you,” he added nervously. He could feel himself turning red. ‘I have all this power and yet I get shy around girls’, he chided himself.
She returned his smile and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll hold you to that.’ She glanced at a nearby clock tower. “I have to go or else I’ll be late for my shift at the medica. I’ll miss you, write me if you can!” she said breaking free from the embrace and running off down the street towards the quartz quarter and the medica.
Luxon watched her go, his chest feeling heavy as she went. Yepert clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“You’ll see her again Lux, I promise. We have a Knight of Niveren, a witch hunter, a Nightblade and two of the best mages in Caldaria, what could go wrong?” The chubby boy said reassuringly.
Ferran hauled himself into his saddle. “Mount up. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
He waved to one of the gate guards who pulled the heavy lever that opened the city gates. With a loud sound of grinding metal the heavy doors swung open to reveal the wider world beyond. The sun was high and bright in the sky and the sound of song birds filled the air.
“Least it doesn’t look like rain...” Luxon muttered as he mounted his pony and spurred it into a trot. The small band was finally on their way, the long Kings road and its perils awaiting them.
***
17.
Eclin Mountains
Woven ran as fast as he could through the deep snow of the mountain pass. His boots slipped and in places he sank knee deep, but still he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t. Behind him came the snarls of werewolves, the moans of thousands of un-dead echoing down the valley and the ominous thunderous noise of thousands of armoured boots.
He had barely escaped Fuio, now several months later after that disaster he once again found himself fleeing the horrors that relentlessly advanced through the mountains. Numerous times the forces of Eclin had tried to halt the hoards advance and each time it had proven to be an unmitigated disaster. The rangers numbers had been decimated at the last battle, for three weeks the fort at Dendros had held, the thick walls and heavy defences had slowed the monsters for a time but once again magic had been their undoing.
“How much further?” gasped the young ranger at his side. The man was no older than twenty summers old his brown eyes were wide in fear.
“A few more miles,” Woven replied. Both men were close to exhaustion but they couldn’t risk halting, to make matters worse the sun was setting in the West. Soon the temperature would plummet. It may have been summer but in the high mountains of Eclin it was always cold.
The two rangers were heading towards the city of Eclin, the last barrier to the plains that led into the heart of Delfinnia itself.
“We’re all doomed aren’t we...”the lad said despairingly. Woven stayed silent; instead he grabbed the man’s shoulder and pushed him on to go faster. The wolves were drawing closer. He understood the man’s fear. After the barricades had broken at Fuio, the baron had turned tail and fled south towards his capital. Only the Knights of Niveren had prevented a total slaughter.
On their white stallions they had charged the enemy lines again and again, buying valuable time for the rangers and Eclin soldiers to flee. It had been they who had led the defence of the mountain passes; it was they that had bought the kingdom some time.
“I can’t go on sir” the ranger cried as he collapsed into the snow. His breathing was ragged and he was shivering violently. Woven knelt down and hauled the man up wrapping an arm about his shoulders.
“Leave me” the man protested. ‘I’ll slow you down and we will both die”
“Shut up Briden. I’ve lost too many brother rangers to this war already, I’m not losing another,” Woven growled. Briden was right though, they both would die unless they found somewhere to hide and rest. He looked around. The white snow-capped mountains went on for miles in either direction. A small forest was at the base of the mountain they found themselves on. He shut his eyes trying to remember the layout of the land.
“The sigil caves...” he muttered as he remembered something. He glanced to the west. A ridge dipped downwards into a narrow valley, at the end of which was a network of caves. He had never considered entering them in the past.
“No..those caves are cursed...” Briden stammered.
“It’s either we take our chances with an old wives tale or we get torn apart by werewolves. I for one would rather face the caves!” Woven snarled. He took a firmer grip on the ranger and made his way towards the valley.
As they reached a bluff he lowered Briden to the ground and shoved, the ranger slid down the icy slope with a startled cry. Woven followed suit. Snow and ice was kicked upwards as he went. To someone watching from the opposite side of the valley the two rangers appeared to be two boulders falling down the mountainside. Finally he skidded to halt next to the other ranger.
In the distance he could make out the three steeples known as the three kings. Standing tall and proud atop the peaks were statues of three of Delfinnia’s greatest Kings. Woven paused for a moment in thought. The three statues were used as landmarks by the rangers. From the peaks the city of Eclin was ten miles to the south. The villages of Rintir and Unos lay three miles to the north.
He swore under his breath.
They
couldn’t head north, that way led the enemy, and the city was much too far to reach before nightfall. Once again he hauled Briden up from the snow and carried him. Carefully he made his way down the slippery mountainside until finally they reached the head of the narrow valley that led to the caves. The sun was beginning to set and the cold was creeping in. The sounds of the enemy grew louder. Woven picked up the pace. His stamina was waning as the rangers weight sapped at his strength.
“Over there,” Briden pointed to a dark hollow in the valley wall. The dark grey stones and rocks weren’t covered in as much snow as those found higher in the mountains. Woven staggered towards the caves mouth, collapsing in relief as they got inside.
*
Woven sat with his back against the caves wall. The warmth from the fire he had made restoring some vitality into his tired limbs. Upon entering the cave the rangers had headed as deep inside as they dared.
Briden had collapsed into a deep sleep as his exhaustion overwhelmed him. Woven however couldn’t rest. He camouflaged the caves entrance with stones and branches from a nearby dead tree. He took some sticks, and used them to start the fire.
The fire cast shadows on the caves wall and the flickering flames illuminated dozens of the mysterious sigils that gave the cave its name. He reached into his cloak and pulled out some of the bread from the knapsack on his belt. The dry coarse food tasted foul as always, but he savoured it nonetheless. Briden was snoring loudly, his rangers cloak wrapped tightly around himself to ward off the cold. Outside, the temperature was plummeting.
Woven paused his eating.
A feint greenish light was flickering deeper in the cave. Slowly he stood and drew his sword. Trepidation filled him. Had the enemy found them? Carefully he crept towards the light until he reached the caves rocky wall, the light was coming through a crack. He felt the wall for some sign of weakness. He knocked the wall with the hilt of his sword, leaping back as a hollow tone echoed around the cave. Briden shifted in his sleep with a snort.
Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga) Page 11
