A New Dawn

by J. J. Johnson

  She took a step closer, drawing Geralt’s vision to the wretched thing.

  “Lydia,” he warned but she waved him off. The creature shuddered and shriveled at discovery but sat paralyzed at her approach. Tears burst from Lydia’s eyes when realization dawned on her. This was no creature or beast. It was a young woman. Her bony frame shivered as Lydia knelt beside her.

  “You’re Princess Lydia,” croaked the woman.

  “I am. What has happened to you? Where are the others in the city?” She asked.

  The woman shuddered and turned away, closing her eyes. “You’ve come to rescue us? Yes, rescue. You can tell her. It’s safe,” the woman mumbled to herself.

  Lydia extended a hand to the woman but pulled it back as she began to shriek, “Gone! All gone! The men taken for labor, the woman slaves or worse… and the garden. The garden is a terrible place. Do not go to the garden.”

  “What’s in the garden?” asked Lydia.

  But the woman closed her eyes and groaned. All she repeated in a haunting tone was, “The garden, the garden.” She rocked back and forth in a state of terror.

  “Come, lass, we should go,” Geralt said, placing a hand on Lydia’s shoulder.

  Lydia bit her lip feeling the pangs of guilt at what had been done to her people.

  “I failed them Geralt,” she cried. “I left them to die and suffer under this monster.”

  “You cannot change the past, but we can stop him now!” he said pulling her up. His face softened into compassion as he looked her in the eyes.

  “You did not fail them, Lydia. There was nothing in your power that could have prevented this monster, Jorn. But now we have the chance to stop him forever.”

  She wiped away her tears and took in a breath. He gave her a faint smile. “You have grown to be more than I could have imagined.”

  “Come, Geralt, enough. You’re getting soft on me again,” she sniffed.

  They turned to leave. She couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the woman who sat rocking and muttering to herself.

  “I am so sorry,” she said softly. The woman could not hear her, but she knew what they must do. This was for more than just her own family. It was for all the lives Jorn had destroyed.

  As they approached the keep’s walls, she could see the last of Jorn’s forces melting away. The cracking of a battering ram thundered against wood and she could see the fortress would soon be theirs. Aiden waited near the gate, his foot impatiently bouncing off the cold stone. He turned to greet them with an eager smile as they approached.

  “We’ve done it. Valkara is ours! Their forces have turned to nothing. All that remains is to cut the head off the snake. Fitting we get to strip him off the throne in the throne room itself.”

  Another crack echoed out, and this time it was followed by the shattering of wood. Men rushed forward prying the doors off their hinges. Troops began to flood the fortress complex only stopping to allow the three of them through. As they entered, they were taken aback at the reaction of their soldiers. Some turned back and others bent retching.

  What is it?” barked Aiden to no reply.

  “The gardens…” muttered Lydia.

  “What do you?” but before he could finish she had already dashed ahead.

  As she broke past the wall of soldiers she met the abominable sight. Where there once was a beautiful garden with a marvelous fountain, now stood… she shook her head. For in its place altars of various stones and sizes had been erected. Strange symbols marred and deformed the scenery. But it was what lay on the alters that sent a shiver up her spine. Bodies, countless bodies, lay strewn and naked atop the vile stones. Their entrails hung loose from their sides and where they once had eyes now rested hollow sockets.

  Then she saw the rest. Thousands upon thousands of bones stacked beside the walls. The ground revealed by torch light was stained crimson from the countless dead. Men, women, even children had not been kept back from the horrendous ritual. Aiden came beside her, his mouth open at the scene.

  “What… what is this?” he said, barely able to release the words.

  “The sacrifice,” said Geralt as he came beside them.

  “The what?” Aiden asked.

  “This is what it means to serve the master known as Maluuk,” Geralt said, jaw clenched at the gruesome sight.

  “This is for the Felled Ones?” Aiden asked, astounded.

  Lydia turned to him, her cheeks flushed. “Do you see now why we had to stand against such a beast? Eloy died not a trivial death, but to stop this!” she said pointing a finger at the awful scene.

  Aiden gulped as he surveyed the horror. “Let’s… let’s just go deal with Jorn.”

  He moved forward in silence toward the keep. His gaze was careful to avoid the wretchedness that surrounded them. Geralt turned to face her. “Be careful, Lydia. Jorn will not go down without a fight. Something tells me he has more in store for us than we know.”

  This was a warning she took to heart. Slowly the full measure of their forces trickled into the royal complex. Each new man who entered was taken aback by what they saw. With caution they moved forward covering every inch until they reached the throne room doors. They found no resistance as they covered the courtyard, only the haunting view of the grizzly sacrifices.

  Aiden, with sword in hand, pushed open the throne room door. It was dark inside with only the light of the moon shining through vaulted windows illuminated the oak interior. The space had been laid bare. All but the carved pillars and elevated throne remained. Atop it sat a man dressed in midnight armor, a blood red moon painted across his chest. His chainmail wrapped where his right arm used to be. Across his lap lay the ancient Dawn Blade of Valkara known as Dawnbreaker. It glowed a sickly green and black smoke swished around its edges.

  “Children of Doran, you have finally returned home,” Jorn said smiling. His silver eyes lit by moonlight made her shudder. It brought her back to that horrid night. The night Nara had been slain, the night this monster had done his best to slay her too.

  “Silence, Jorn. Your voice has been heard enough in these lands! Come give me your neck, so I can end this,” shouted Aiden.

  “Ever confident you are, boy. I suppose you believe you have won a battle, and that makes you think you could be king?”

  “I will cut you down where you sit!” Aiden cried.

  Lydia placed a hand on her brother. “Silence, Aiden, he has hidden treachery for those who act brashly.”

  “Astute, little Valkaran. If only I had slain you that night instead of your feeble sister.”

  She let the rage wash over her so that it might not fog her mind. For she would need all her wits to defeat this foe. Jorn raised the Dawn Blade in his hand.

  “I don’t think you will find me as easily slain as you would like, even maimed as I am. Thanks to you,” Jorn said pointing the tip of the blade toward Geralt who stood leering at him.

  His eyes settled back onto Lydia and her brother. “I suppose you think you’ve won. Seeing as my army is destroyed and only I remain. But it isn’t the enemy you know that you should fear.”

  Jorn rose to his feet, and as he did silver eyes filled the dark void behind him. Suddenly on their flanks even more silver orbs appeared. All of them carried a seething hatred beneath.

  “What is this?” Aiden asked taking a step back.

  Casually Jorn descended the steps of the throne until he was only a few feet away. “It is the enemy you don’t know. Or rather, you don’t know, Aiden. Some of you are acquainted,” he said sneering.

  “How is this possible? Eloy…” stuttered Lydia before Jorn interrupted.

  “Your High King failed! Maluuk and his army have returned with vengeance on their mind. Thanks to our little foreign friends. I heard they did a number on your lover.”

  “Enough!” shouted Aiden as he rushed forward with a wild swing of his axe.

  Jorn lifted the corrupted Dawn Blade with ea
se, breaking the axe in two. Aiden did not relent. He ducked out of the way of Jorn’s counter sending several furious blows with a hidden dagger. Jorn weaved his way free of the assault and with a flick of his wrist sent the small blade across the floor.

  “Attack them!” ordered Jorn. Out of the shadows the host of deformed beasts burst. The men accompanying them rushed to meet their foes, but Lydia knew they stood no chance. Even as the men unsheathed their second swords known as Light Bringers, it would not be enough. Behind the throne a dark mist suddenly permeated the walls. From it more and more of the creatures poured out.

  Many of them she recognized. The deformed shapes of a wolf-like beast. Spidery creatures that moved with deadly speed. Long clawed monstrosities in the form of men but skin pulled tight with faces like skulls. Even the wide mouthed creatures with razor sharp teeth had returned. It was a nightmare relived, only those she needed by her side the most were gone.

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jorn moving toward her. Aiden now lay on the floor gripping his leg from a blow she had not seen. The sneering monster raised his sword to strike her down. With agile speed she dodged the incoming blow and sent her boot crashing into his knee. With a howl of pain Jorn dropped to the ground, the grip on his sword loosening. She took the chance to reach for the weapon but found he had recovered too quickly.

  Jorn sent the blade upward with a backhanded swing. She could feel the cold bite of steel across her chest and glide past her cheek. All was a blur as she was tossed onto her back. She heard a voice cry out her name over the clamor of battle. Time slowed and her vision grew fuzzy.

  Had this been how Titus felt in the end? Cold? Alone?

  She no longer fought her fate. Rest, she could finally rest. But the finishing blow didn’t come. With all her remaining strength she rose, leaning on her elbow. With a speed she had never seen in a swordsman, Geralt had jumped between her and Jorn. With deadly precision, he sent Jorn retreating even as he swung the Dawn Blade. With intense focus Geralt skirted each blow until he had driven Jorn back to the stairs of the throne.

  She could see the panic in Jorn’s eyes. This was the vaunted warrior that tales spoke of. She had never seen anyone move with such controlled strength. In his retreat, Jorn stumbled on the steps he had neglected to see. It sent him floundering onto his back. The Dawn Blade betrayed his grip, landing a few feet away. He raised a pitiful hand to Geralt.

  “Mercy… mercy, you must…”

  Without word the sword in Geralt’s hand slide between steel plating, penetrating the chainmail beneath until it reached the heart. With a cry of gurgled pain Jorn spoke his last. Geralt, in silence stepped away from the corpse and picked up the Dawn Blade nearby. At the touch of his hand the mist dissipated and the green glow vanished. The black blade slowly morphed into the cool dark steel of its true form. A subtle light of pure golden hues began to radiate at the edges. He quickly moved to her side.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She sat up examining the gash in the leather armor. Only a small cut grazed her skin. Reaching a hand to her face she felt the mark on her cheek.

  “I’m fine, just a scratch.”

  Geralt offered her the hilt of the Dawn Blade.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” he said.

  “Geralt you saved us… I.”

  He couldn’t help but fight back the tears in his eyes. “I was given a task, lass. By a man I respected long ago. To keep his children safe. I failed at that task until this day.”

  She choked back the lump in her throat as the reality around them settled in. “Geralt, I cannot thank you enough, but you should keep that blade until we can escape.”

  His eyes focused again in a way that shocked her. How easily he could switch to a warrior at a moments call. He nodded and gripped the sword. Aiden hobbled to his feet drawing both their attention.

  “Aiden!” Lydia cried.

  “Save it, sister. We’ve got to go.”

  Geralt rolled his eyes. “Help him. I’ll hold these beasts off. We need to make it to the escape tunnel.”

  Lydia chuckled silently to herself. More than once that tunnel had come in handy. She ran to Aiden’s side, taking his arm around her shoulders.

  “Come on, don’t be dead weight,” she chided as they scrambled forward. Any of the Felled Ones that neared them Geralt cut down with ease. Dawnbreaker sang in its restored form. As they retreated from the palace, their forces followed like a tide receding from the shore. A growing number of them fell as the dark army gave chase.

  Through the streets they fled. Lydia glanced at the now empty alleyway where the strange woman once sat. The place was vacant, leaving her to wonder about the woman’s fate. She shook her head. What would any of their fates be by the end of this. The monstrosities rained down curses on the retreating army. Their malicious intent filling them with unparalleled speed.

  As she looked over her shoulder, she wondered if they would have any army by the end of this. Following Geralt they rounded a corner where a small exit lay tucked into the frame of the city wall. While the remainder of their forces retreated to the main gate and the ramparts, they slipped away down the quiet side street. With a kick Geralt sent the door flying off its hinges. With a waving hand he ushered them in. Bursting through the exit they stumbled onto the snow covered clearing.

  The once white sheet was now a crimson stained horror. Mud and the remains of battle churned into a sludge of destitution. Trampling through it they reached the adjacent tree line. Just behind them the first stragglers of the army came bursting out from the city. Some braved jumping the dangerous heights off the wall, while others could be heard screaming from within the city. All fled before the coming terror.

  Searching they found a nearby stable boy clutching a pair of horses.

  “Where are the others?” Geralt asked.

  The stable boy gulped. “They fled when they heard the army retreating, me and a few others are all that remain.”

  “Cowards,” hissed Aiden.

  “Geralt where are we going?” she asked.

  “Khala?”

  “We can’t make it that far. Not with the pace we will need.”

  “That’s not where we should go,” interrupted the stable boy said.

  All three turned to the bold young man. He blushed at their stares but continued, “I mean, word was just received but an hour ago. The Khalans along with the rest of the army march to Sahra. They sent word of a foul army joining with the outsiders. In the message they said we should meet them there to make our stand.”

  “Sahra it is then,” Geralt said. “Mount up, you two. We have a long way to go.”

  Aiden raised a hand to halt them. “I need to say this before we go.”

  “Quick about it,” Geralt said.

  Aiden nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to Kingshelm’s aid. I… I didn’t realize what the threat truly was.” His eyes turned to Geralt. “Thank you, Geralt, for serving our family all these years.”

  He gave him a nod of thanks as he pulled himself up onto his horse. Lydia turned to her brother and gave him a tired smile.

  “We can’t change the past, Aiden. What’s done is done, but we can still do something about the future. Maybe in Sahra we can bring this all to an end.”

  He grunted as he mounted. “You still believe in the New Dawn, sister? After all that has happened?”

  She mulled over his words, knowing the road she had traveled. “I have no choice but to believe. It’s the only hope we have.”

  With that she spurred her horse on into the night knowing they had a long road ahead.

  14

  Imari

  A rare gray sky hung over the desert as they approached Khala. Something unnatural and foreboding was felt in its presence. Before Khala, the forces of Kingshelm and Leviatanas gathered. Dust rose from the host of men who eager for answers. As they passed by the camp Imari could sense something had changed
in the mood of the men from when he had last seen them. That’s when the flying of royal banners caught his attention. A small company bearing the colors of Khala came streaming toward them.

  “Something has happened,” said Khaleena.

  “Mhmmm,” grunted Lombaku in agreement.

  The small band reached them on the outskirts of the city. Impatu, Imamu, Henry, Amira, and, to his surprise, Lancelin were there.

  “Prince of Leviatanas, where have you come from?” Imari asked.

  “Khosi, it is always an honor. Forgive me for the lack of courtesy, but I bring urgent news,” Lancelin said. The other’s faces with him told a grim tale.

  “What could it be now?”

  Henry’s eyes darted to Lancelin. Fear flooded them that he could not keep hidden.

  Lancelin cleared his throat before speaking, “I was taken captive by the outsiders. They forced me to lead them to the cave you, Henry, and I all dared to tread not long ago,” he paused, trembling at his next words.

  “By some dark ritual they have brought Maluuk back, along with his army. It will not be long before they arrive. Izel, who has accompanied me, can attest to this news.”

  Imari sat frozen. Eloy had warned him of dark news, but this? How could they stand against this? His mind returned to the serenity of the High King’s face. Somehow Eloy knew this would happen, yet he did not fear what would become of them?

  Imari shifted his gaze to each of them. “This is dire news indeed, but I know what we must do.”

  Henry blinked in astonishment. “You do?”

  “We will head west to Sahra. We can make our stand there.”

  Imari noticed Amira’s eyes briefly flicker to Khaleena.

  “My brother is right. We have spoken to Eloy and…”

  “You have what?” Lancelin said, interrupting.

  “He came to us in the desert. I don’t know how to explain it, only that he changed me. There had been things… terrible things done to me and somehow he knew. Yet…” Khaleena said.