by Zaya Feli
IRON BREAKERS
THE FLOODGATES
BY
ZAYA FELI
Copyright 2017 by Zaya Feli
Published by Zaya Feli
Cover art and illustrations 2017 by Zaya Feli
Edited by Sarah Wright
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Acknowledgements
List of Characters
Connect with Zaya Feli
CHAPTER ONE
The sky grew dark, the sun sinking low on the horizon, making twenty-three hundred swords and chest plates glow a dull orange. When a scout called out the number from the western tower, Ren knew their fate was sealed. They were outnumbered more than two to one. The fort sprung alive with activity, soldiers rushing to arm themselves and Skarlan commanders shouting orders to foot soldiers and archers. Their own cavalry would be useless. The enemy was already too close to stop them in the fields. They'd have to do what they could to defend the fort.
Ren stared out over the sea of white and gold, led by lines of dark grey and silver. They were men he had known all his life, women he had greeted in hallways with nods and smiles, soldiers with whom he had exchanged salutes in the streets of tAleria during holidays.
Evalyne's sharp voice to Ren's left snapped him out of his trance and he turned his attention to her, to the way she directed her soldiers with squared shoulders and a tight jaw.
She turned to Ren, and her eyes were wide but determined. “Your men are going to need your orders,” she said.
Ren glanced out over the lines of approaching soldiers and knew they weren't who she meant. “What's happening?” he asked, aware of how frail his voice sounded.
“Come with me.” Evalyne led the way down the stone steps to the courtyard. With a leather band, she bound her hair up and away from her face. The action, absurdly, made Ren think of Anik. Anik, who wasn't anywhere nearby when Ren desperately needed him.
“Your people didn't betray you,” Evalyne said. “Commander!” She whistled a sharp tune and waved her hand at a dark-haired woman in a shining engraved breastplate.
The woman fell in line with Evalyne, matching her stride.
From across the courtyard, Jayce came towards them, followed by Thais and Ilias. Their eyes were searching and Jayce parted his lips to speak, but Ren stopped him with a gesture. Instead, they fell in behind Ren, following him into the keep.
“It's part of my father's plan,” Evalyne said, the heels of her boots echoing in the arched hallway. “He's holding the families of Fraynean soldiers captive in a place called the Sanctuary, the same way he controlled Aleria by keeping your brother hostage. With the lives of their families at risk, the Fraynean soldiers have to do what he says. He's using the bulk of his own soldiers to keep control of the city and to run Iskaal in his absence. He sends Frayneans out to fight instead.”
“Keeping his own men safe while thinning the ranks of his enemies,” Jayce said. His hand shook when he ran it through his hair, wavy dark locks falling back over his eyes.
Evalyne led them through the entry hall, not towards the higher levels but down the steps in direction of the armoury below the keep.
“What's the Sanctuary?” Ilias asked.
It was Thais who answered, half-running to keep up with the rest of them. He spoke between pants of breath. “It's a closed yard in the centre of Aleria. If the castle were to fall to the enemy, the royal family, the court, and a good portion of the city's citizens could hide inside and build a pyre to signal to the surrounding cities for help. The double walls are high, curve outwards, and are ten meters thick. Its gates can only be opened from the inside.”
“Your Highness.” A woman dressed in Skarlan silver and with a sword almost as long as her legs at her hip came forward. “Our soldiers are in position. One hundred archers on the ramparts. What of the Lowlanders and the Frayneans?”
“Good job,” Evalyne said without slowing. “Lord Ren is in charge of them. We'll strap in and meet you in the courtyard. Send a group to pack up what we have and ready the wagons.”
“Wait,” Ren began, swallowing. “I haven't led a battle before.”
“You don't need to lead the battle. Just instruct your men. As far as I've been told, you did a pretty good job in Stag's Run,” Evalyne said, leading the way into the main chamber where servants waited with weapons and armour.
Ren wanted to protest, to tell her that he hadn't been the one to lead the fight in Stag's Run. Anik had, and he wasn't here now. But there was no use arguing. If he couldn't direct a band of forty prisoners and rusty soldiers, he shouldn't be here at all.
“I know you don't want to fight your own men,” Evalyne said, raising her arms to let a pair of servants fasten a shining silvery breastplate at her sides. A snarling wolf was engraved on the chest. “Either way, we're painfully outnumbered. This is the plan.” Evalyne waved her commander closer. “We'll hold them off at the gates and try to organize a retreat. Hopefully, if we kill their commanders and a good portion of my father's men, there won't be enough Skarlans left to organize the rest of the Fraynean force. Then we can flee.”
“Flee where?” Ren asked. A servant handed him his sword. He was about to attach it when he realised Anik's sword already took up the place at his left hip. He asked for an additional strap, raising his arms to let servants dress him in pads and armour. Skarlan armour.
“West,” Evalyne said.
“Towards Skarlan? And what if they follow us?” Ren demanded to know. Accepting the strap, he fastened Hellic's sword to his belt.
“We'll think of something,” Evalyne said.
“There are tunnels leading from the keep and out into the village behind the fort. We could retreat that way,” the commander suggested.
“Jayce,” Ren said, taking a pair of bracers from one of the servants flitting around them. “Tell our men to position themselves with whichever group of Skarlans they feel can use their skills.”
Jayce nodded. “And the Lowlanders?”
Ren hesitated. If they belonged to anyone at all, the Lowlanders were Anik's. He wasn't sure why they had decided to stay. Maybe they relished the chance to cut down the soldiers Halvard sent to kill them, no matter what colour uniform they wore. “Tell them they can stay and fight or leave if they want to. No matter what I say, I doubt they'll listen to me.”
A young soldier burst through the door to their left, nearly slipping on the worn rug by the door before coming to a stop. “Your Highness. The approaching force sends no messenger. They're engaging without slowing.”
“Understoo
d, soldier. Return to your post,” Evalyne told him. To Ren, she said, “I'll do whatever I can to make this easy on your people, but I can't tell my soldiers not to defend themselves.”
Ren nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He knew the realities they faced. It seemed as if every time he felt as far backed into a corner as he could get, something managed to press him further into it. “Of course. I understand.”
“What about me?” Thais asked, stopping Ren with a hand on his wrist. “I want to fight, too.”
“Absolutely not.” Ren turned so he could grab Thais by the shoulders. “Go with Ilias to the inner chambers. Stay-”
“I'm the crown prince!” Thais said, voice breaking with agitation as he squared his jaw. “I should be out there.”
“What you need to do is stay alive,” Ren said firmly. He wouldn’t budge on this. Not with Thais. “You're the most important piece on the board,” he continued. “You have barely any combat training and there's more than two of them for every one of us. Go with Ilias and stay with the soldiers watching the fort residents. When you hear the call to retreat, follow them to the tunnels.” He took the shield that was handed to him – not Skarlan – but a Fraynean shield from Fort Llyne's own weapons depot.
“But-”
“Now, Thais!” Ren hissed, aware of how much he sounded like Callun when Ren had last spoken to him. Now he knew what it felt like to want to protect someone against their will. He couldn't care about the heated glare Thais sent him.
“Come on,” Ilias said softly, taking Thais' hand.
“Ren.” Evalyne's voice was tense.
Ren turned, following her into the courtyard.
Evalyne's soldiers were an impressive display of force. Over half her army was lined up in the courtyard, soldiers positioned like little pieces on a skip-rock playing board, evenly spaced and with their hands on their weapons. The rest manned the ramparts and the towers, archers kneeling behind the battlements with their bows at the ready. Ren spotted Frayneans here and there, scattered throughout the ranks, but they were few and far between. This was a Skarlan army, and Ren was on their side, defending Llyne against a largely Fraynean force. Who would have ever thought the world could twist to such a degree?
Sticking his hand into his pocket, he felt the cool metal of his mother's key and stroked a finger along the length of it like a lucky charm.
The fort was silent, and Evalyne's voice carried easily when she spoke. “This battle might seem already lost, but remember this. You're up against men who are forced to fight, who would rather be anywhere but here if it wasn't for the man they hate forcing their hands. We have their princes, and the soldiers do not wish to harm them. What matters now is to strike down Skarlan greys and organize an efficient retreat. Spare Frayneans when you can. Protect yourselves. When the horns sound, we pull back through the keep tunnels.”
“Two hundred yards,” a scout called from one of the two main towers.
“Ready archers,” Evalyne shouted, and strode forward, drawing her swords.
Ren stayed where he was, at the entrance to the keep, and felt the ground rumble like an earthquake from over two thousand pairs of feet marching towards their gates. He drew Hellic's sword and adjusted his grip on the shield. Maybe his death wouldn't matter. Maybe sickness would kill him only weeks from now, but he'd be damned if he allowed himself to go down without a fight. There was no way he could simply roll over. Hellic would be disappointed. Anik would hate him for it. Maybe Anik already hated him, but that didn’t matter. Anik's standard was the one to reach. Anik was a force of nature, a storm contained in human flesh, and still, he had let Ren kiss him, let him past every wall of carefully crafted self-protection. No, Anik would return. Ren knew it.
Bowstrings snapped. Ren couldn't hear what happened at the front, but moments later, a cloud of arrows arched over the fort walls and struck down in the courtyard. Shields went up, a few too slowly, but not many. Ren raised his own, but the arrows didn't fly far enough to reach the stairs of the keep.
Jayce came towards him from the shade of the stone building, dressed not in armour but in protective leather, a long dagger in his belt. “My Lord, is Berin with them?” he asked, and for a moment, Ren was taken aback by the title. In Fort Endurance, they had dropped the use of titles and Ren had declined picking them back up. But he knew why Jayce used it now. He was a prince, after all, surrounding by an army on a battlefield. Nothing less would be accepted.
“He's there,” Ren said, half a beat before the archers on the ramparts loosed their return fire, directed by their commander.
“Fuck,” Jayce said under his breath, just loud enough for Ren to hear.
Ren nodded. Berin had a wife and a daughter. He remembered Berin’s wedding, five years ago, surrounded by the orange tree blossoms in the king's gardens. His daughter, Valerie, had just begun learning how to ride a pony earlier this summer.
“Do you think they're all right?” Jayce asked, as if reading Ren's mind.
“Of course they're all right,” Ren said with surety. “Their well being is your brother's bond. He wouldn't be here otherwise.”
“Yeah,” Jayce said. He turned his gaze warily on the main gates. “You're right.”
“Go,” Ren said. “You shouldn't be out here.”
“I need something to do. I can't just sit in the keep and wait,” Jayce insisted.
“Fine. Stay with me until the gate breaks, then go,” Ren said. “We'll need your expertise more than ever when we make our retreat.”
Shouts. Bangs. The enemy was trying to break the front gates. The soldiers on the inside crowded closer together, creating a living wall with swords extended like the back of a hedgehog towards the splintering wooden gates.
“Berin will be fine. He's the best warrior I know,” Ren said, swallowing hard. The rumble of the ram sent trembles through the ground all the way up to the keep stairs. Ren wished Jayce would say something to distract him, to take his mind off his racing heart and the knowledge that in a few moments, anticipation would turn into carnage. Jayce didn't say anything. More than anything, Ren wished Anik was here. A familiar burn rose in his throat and he fought back the need to cough. He knew what it meant, but he couldn't care about it now. Sickness wouldn't get a chance to take his life if he died today.
Another rumble.
Wood splintered, and this time, the hinges gave out and the broken gates crashed open. The archers above sent arrow after arrow into the mass of soldiers flooding through the gates, but it was nowhere near enough. Bodies and shields slammed together with a dull sound that made Ren's stomach clench.
“Go now,” Ren shouted.
“Is Anik really gone?” Jayce asked. His voice trembled, emphasised by how loudly he had to speak to be heard over the sounds of the fight.
Ren tore his eyes from the gates and looked at Jayce. “Who told you?” His tongue was dry in his mouth.
“You two are always together. No one has seen him since the horns sounded,” Jayce replied. His eyes were wide. “What happened?”
An arrow bounced off the cobblestones and Ren flinched, jerking his shield up. “Get inside. Make sure Thais stays with the guards,” he shouted.
This time, Jayce didn't argue.
Ren was alone. He felt too vulnerable on the stairs of the keep, too exposed, despite the men standing at the ready only a few feet from him, ready to engage the approaching enemy. The space inside the courtyard grew tighter and tighter as more soldiers forced their way in through the gates. Some of their own men found higher ground on the stairs and ramparts, firing arrows into the crowd below, but their shots were hesitant, the crowd too dense, the risk of friendly fire high.
“Hold the lines. Don't let them in,” Evalyne's voice rang out over the din and her men reacted to it, drawing on their reserves to slam their shields and bodies against the approaching enemy, pushing them back towards the gates. It was a losing battle. Ren could see from his vantage point how enemy soldiers fell back, rep
laced by a seemingly endless supply of fresh men behind them. Inside the fort, their own men tried to do the same, only their numbers were much more limited.
A realisation washed over Ren at the sight of the growing chaos. The army wasn’t just here for Evalyne. They were here for him, Halvard's son, the king's biggest threat. Even if they had no idea who he was, they'd have orders to prioritize his death. He was too exposed on the stairs.
Ren turned, grabbing the nearest waiting soldier by the arm. The man spun around and when he saw who it was, gave Ren a standard Skarlan salute.
“Gather ten men and head into the keep. Execute the princess' plan to gather the residents and prepare them for retreat. Make sure our path through the tunnels is clear.”
For a moment, Ren wondered if the soldier would ignore his command, but then he nodded, his “Yes, my lord,” nearly drowned out by the sounds of the fight.
As the group of soldiers moved past him, Ren left the stairs. He moved through the crowd of soldiers, slipping underneath an awning and around a wooden pillar to the base of the stairs at the west end of the fort. The fight moved further and further into the courtyard, Evalyne's soldiers failing at holding the line despite the princess and her commanders shouting orders and encouragements. A good portion of the soldiers fighting were grey against grey. Not nearly enough enemy Skarlans had fallen. Without warning, the men in front of Ren staggered backwards, Ren nearly losing his balance on the bottom steps of the stairs as a massive man swinging a heavy mace barrelled through the crowd of soldiers. The men around him crumbled, the rest pulling back up the stairs and taking Ren with them. Ren scrambled to avoid the men in front of him, the heel of his boot catching on a step and his back hitting the edges of the steps. Before he could react, a boot was planted on top of his shoulder, making his bones grind against the stone. He cried out, raising his shield just in time to avoid the trampling feet of men fleeing up the stairs. Twisting around, Ren pushed himself up with all his strength, pushing bodies aside, gasping as he pressed himself flat against the wall. The man with the mace had turned away, but he had carved a path through their ranks for the enemy to follow. A Skarlan soldier below where Ren stood was too slow to react. His skull split open on the edge of an enemy's sword. Ren averted his eyes and rolled his shoulder. The motion stung, but the racing of his heart dulled the pain.
