Iron Breakers: The Floodgates (Iron Breakers Book 3)

by Zaya Feli

  A moving sea of grey and silver surrounded Ren. This was nothing like Stag's Run, where half of the soldiers' priorities had been to protect him. These weren't his men and he wasn't their priority. If he wanted to avoid getting trampled, he'd have to learn to move out of the way.

  Motion in the corner of his eye made him duck, a sword slamming against the wall behind him instead of carving through his neck. Ren raised his shield, no idea where the next strike would come from. He felt the impact of the strike on the shield's surface, rattling his arm. Letting himself drop down flat, he kicked his opponent's legs. Ren didn't hear the man’s shout, but he saw him fall sideways off the stairs and hit the ground below in an unnatural position.

  Ren looked over his shoulder. More enemy soldiers, most of them Fraynean, rushed up the stairs leading to the ramparts on the other side of the courtyard. If Ren got stuck up there, with enemies on either side, he'd be as good as dead.

  Spotting a clear path below, Ren leapt back down the stairs. The wooden pillars that held the awning had collapsed, likely fallen victim to the massive man's weapon. Ren couldn't see him now. Swords clashed next to Ren's head, making him wince and stagger to the side, ears ringing. Anik's advice echoed in his mind. Don't take on more than you can handle. He had to get away from the mass of fighting soldiers.

  Ren swung his sword and the men in front of him leapt backwards. Ren slipped past before they could think to strike back.

  The man in front of Ren wore a breastplate with the Fraynean stag's head on the chest. Instinctively, Ren let down his guard, realising his mistake too late. The impact of the soldier's shield against his chest was enough to send him onto his back on the ground. Ren raised his shield just in time; the edge of the soldier's sword ground across its surface. Heart in his throat, Ren adjusted his grip on his sword, preparing for another attack and his chance to strike. It didn't come. Peering over the edge of his shield, Ren stared into a pair of shocked brown eyes. He thought he recognized the soldier as one of the young men of the Alerian royal guard, appointed last year. The man breathed heavily, indecision and fear shining in his eyes as he lowered his sword.

  “Go. Get out of here,” Ren barked, voice hoarse as he pushed himself to his feet. The man stepped backwards and turned.

  Ren retreated too, away from the fight and towards the keep. Pulling himself up onto a fence, he looked out over the mass of fighting soldiers. It was difficult to tell how many enemy Skarlans were left when Evalyne's men wore the same colours. White and gold poured through the gates like a river. Ren narrowed his eyes, searching for familiar faces. The soldiers from Stag's Run were lost in the crowd.

  To the east, one small group of soldiers held off Skarlans like an impenetrable wall. Ren's eyes widened. They hardly wore any armour. One man was bare-chested, a dark and detailed tattoo winding its way up his left arm and over his shoulder. Not soldiers. The Lowlanders had decided to stay.

  Flame-bright hair in a sea of grey and white caught Ren's attention. Evalyne was in the midst of the crowd, hundreds of men on either side of her. They should have swallowed her up, but they didn't. There was space around her, as if she and the man she fought physically repelled the soldiers. Then Ren realised why. Evalyne's opponent was Nathair, the opulence of his brilliant armour hard to miss. Their strikes were hard and fast. Even from this distance, Ren could see the force with which Nathair rained strikes down on Evalyne. Ren had no idea if he had orders to kill her or if he was simply enjoying making her exert herself, but it was clear that Evalyne was not holding back. Nathair's hair was wild and sticking to his brow. Evalyne drove him back. A desperate hope flared inside Ren. He had injured Nathair during their escape from the prison. Nathair had a glaring weakness and Ren could tell Evalyne was doing everything she could to take advantage.

  A hand gripped Ren's ankle and tugged, nearly making him slip off his spot on the fence. Ren twisted around and dropped his shield, hand wrapping around the fence pole to stop his fall as he raised his sword with the other. Then he froze. Berin's golden chest plate with the engraved antlers was unmistakable. He was covered in blood.

  “Raise your sword,” Berin growled.

  Ren slipped off the fence and did as he was told. A memory flashed through his mind: himself and Berin, training together on the fighting grounds behind the castle years ago. Reality was grim in comparison.

  Berin's sword struck his own. Ren knew Berin was only using half his strength, but it still made Ren grit his teeth.

  “They're watching,” Berin shouted over the noise of the crowd. “Keep fighting. Move backwards.”

  Ren bent down and snatched his shield. Berin aimed his strike right for it as Ren looked over his shoulder and backed up, towards the arched walkway that ran around the side of the courtyard.

  “Nathair is leading you?” Ren asked, tensing the muscles in his arm as the guards of their swords locked together and he let Berin drive him farther back.

  “They have my family, Ren,” Berin said, his voice pained. He feigned a too-high swipe of his sword, letting Ren duck under it easily.

  “I know.” Ren raised his shield again, looking over his shoulder as he followed the curve of the wall. He backed towards a shaded corner between a tower and the wall, hidden from view from the courtyard. “Evalyne told me everything.”

  “Is Jayce with you? They told us Stag's Run had fallen.” Berin sounded breathless.

  “He's with me. He's in the keep. He's all right,” Ren said. He stepped into the shade and lowered his hand. In the same moment, Berin drove Ren's back up against the wall, sword at his throat.

  “He's my family, too,” Berin said, voice quieter now that they were out of the crowd. He hung his head.

  “I know,” Ren said again, because he didn't know what else to say. He couldn't control the lump that formed in his throat. Berin had always been a pillar of strength, a mountain, loyal and unmoving and one of his best friends. Ren wanted him to stay, to gather their men and lead their retreat, offer Ren a brilliant plan and solve all of their problems. But Berin couldn't do any of those things. Not anymore. “I don't know what to do,” he whispered.

  Berin hushed him, stealing a glance over his shoulder. “Listen. Do you have a plan?”

  Ren's shoulder ached, the stone wall cold against his back. He nodded. “We have Thais. Princess Evalyne's helping us. We're going to try and get Thais back on the throne. We'll find a way to free the hostages,” he said, wondering as he said it if he was promising more than he should. If they couldn't even hold a fort, how were they supposed to do all of those things? “What about Niklas? Have you seen him?”

  Berin frowned and shook his head. “I don't know anything.”

  “Don't trust anything he says,” Ren said, clenching his jaw.

  Berin's eyes narrowed, but he didn't ask, simply nodded in compliance. “What of the Lowlander?”

  For a moment, the noises coming from the courtyard seemed to grow louder and Ren held his breath. Then he forced himself to go on. “Anik left. I don't know where he is.”

  “We have orders to kill you both.”

  Ren nodded. The truth was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell Berin about Halvard, what he’d done to Ren’s mother and the real reason Halvard was trying so hard to kill him. But he couldn't. The last thing he wanted was to see shock and disgust in Berin's eyes. He couldn't bear it.

  “Do you have a way out of here?” Berin asked.

  Ren nodded again. The steel of Berin's blade was warming to the temperature of his throat. “Through the keep tunnels.”

  “All right, kid. I'll make your escape a little easier. Give me your sword. I'll find a dead soldier and give him your weapon, display his body on the ramparts. That'll pause the attack for a moment, until Nathair comes to check the body. The distraction should be enough for you to gather your men and get out of here with fewer losses.”

  Ren shifted his grip on the hilt of his sword, Hellic's sword, the tip of it grazing the ground where he held it li
mply at his hip. The thought of giving it up sent a wave of resistance through him, but Berin was right. Hellic's sword with the impressive antler crossguard was unmistakable. The sight of it would give Nathair's men pause.

  “Wait for the sound of the horns,” Ren said, holding up his sword for Berin to take.

  “You can do this, Ren. I believe in you. Don't get yourself killed, you hear?” Berin's hand was warm against the back of Ren's neck. He dropped his sword and dared to draw Ren close for a moment. Ren's shield between them dug into Ren's ribs, but he was still thankful for it. Then he passed the shield to Berin.

  Berin pulled away, hefted Ren's shield and sword and disappeared back into the crowd. Ren stayed where he was. For one long second, his feet seemed nailed to the ground, his mind not strong enough to convince his body to throw itself back into the fray. Then a soldier staggered around the corner and Ren pushed off the wall, evading the man's attack and stepping back out into the courtyard. He had no idea how their plan was progressing, but they couldn't afford to linger much longer. Evalyne would call for retreat any moment.

  His bag was in the guest room. All he had on him was Anik's sword and his mother's key. There was nothing in the bag he couldn't replace.

  The sound of whinnying horses made Ren whip his head around. Evalyne's soldiers were pulling horses from the stables. They wouldn't be fast enough to take all their mounts with them, but judging by the shouts coming from inside the barn, a few men and women were valiantly trying. Ren steered towards the sound, stubbornly ignoring the way his boot slid in sticky wetness as he stepped over a body on the ground. The last time Ren had seen Evalyne, she had been fighting Nathair. What would happen if she had lost? No, Ren couldn't allow himself to consider that now.

  Inside the barn, the horses were calm but alert, used to the sounds and chaos of battle. All except for one. Anik's dark stallion spun in its stall and kicked the door, letting out high-pitch noises of anxiety.

  Ren approached it, holding his hand up to the bars. “Whoa,” he whispered, jerking backwards when the stallion kicked the door so hard it rattled against his body.

  Attempting to take the horse with him in the middle of battle would be madness, but he couldn't leave him here. When Anik returned, he'd want the horse back.

  “Help me with this animal,” Ren called over his shoulder.

  A man and a woman came to his aid, opening the stall door and attempting to fasten a lead to the stallion's halter. Ren winced in sympathy, silently begging the horse to quiet down. If it couldn't be calmed enough to be lead out of here, he'd have to leave it behind.

  Ren opened the next stall, leading out his own horse, the white gelding he had stolen from Lord Elgrin's stables. He silently thanked his past self for always insisting on tacking up his own horses. It came in handy now, when speed was of the essence. Ren pulled the girth tight as a deep and mournful horn blared across the fort. This was it.

  “Hurry! Forget the saddle,” Ren shouted over his shoulder at the men and women struggling to contain the stallion in the barn corridor. He wheeled his horse. “Toss me a lead.”

  The soldiers rushed to comply, clearly as eager to leave as Ren was. To Ren's relief, the dark stallion seemed more willing to follow another horse instead of a person, and it trotted alongside Ren's gelding without a fuss.

  Ducking his head under a beam, Ren looked left and right to orientate himself. He thought he heard Berin's booming voice somewhere behind him, but he couldn't linger to find out. There were far more soldiers in white and gold flocking the courtyard and ramparts now.

  “This way!” A woman in bloodstained armour waved at him. When Ren got close, he recognized the howling wolf on her chest. Evalyne's commander. “The tunnel gates are open,” she shouted.

  Ren lead the way and the soldiers around him followed in his wake through the crowd around the fort, enemy soldiers jumping left and right to evade the flailing legs of his horses. The sound of their hooves echoed in the tunnel, amplified when dozens of horses fell in behind them. Ren looked over his shoulder for pursuers, but no one came. The courtyard fell silent. If Berin had proclaimed his death and displayed the body on the ramparts, no Frayneans found it reason to cheer. That was some consolation.

  The tunnels opened up into a sunlit pasture by the village. Ren stopped his horse and looked around, searching for bright, flaming hair. Almost a minute passed, soldiers pouring out through the open tunnel gates and onto the grass behind the fort with no signs of Evalyne among them.

  Finally, her voice echoed through the tunnels. “Don't let anyone fall behind and don't stop!” She burst from the tunnel and rode up alongside Ren. She looked exhausted, her face streaked with sweat and blood, but to Ren's surprise, she flashed him a smile. “Nathair was on the ground when I left him. He won't be too keen on setting after us any time soon.”

  “My brother?” Ren asked.

  “He's with Rafya,” she said and pointed to where the non-combatants were helping the fort residents ready themselves.

  Before them, the town of Llyne mirrored the chaos of its fort. Alarmed by the battle, families fled their homes, released their livestock, and placed crying and screaming children onto the backs of wagons. Ren realised he had no idea how Nathair's army would treat these people. Surely he wouldn't make Fraynean soldiers cut down innocents. Then, with a bitter taste in his mouth, Ren reminded himself who Halvard was. Murderer. Tormentor.

  His father.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The subtle breeze carried a beckoning scent of home, of old oak trees and cattle and freshly tilled soil. It felt so close, but in reality, it was miles to the south-west, beyond the visible horizon. Anik took a deep breath. It called him. Pulled on his heart painfully. It was the closest he had been to home since it had all burned. The next tug of wind in his hair and clothes made him shiver, but not from cold.

  Anik looked over his shoulder to where the boat lay anchored at the river bend. He'd have to hurry. The sun would set in just short of four hours, and he couldn't blame the old sailor for not wanting to stay here like a stranded turtle in the darkness. Not with everything happening so close to the Skarlan border.

  Ahead of him, the rolling hills were bare, turning yellow with the season. The terrain sloped subtly downwards and then flattened. He'd have to cross the hills if he was to have any hope of finding who he sought.

  Anik glanced at the sun again, almost afraid it would race across the sky without his consent. Four hours was not a lot of time to find a group of fifty people in the wilderness. By the time he had gotten word from Valkon, the news was already days old, an overheard conversation between a prison guard and a soldier riding patrols by the south Fraynean border. They could be miles away. But they wouldn't be, he reminded himself. It hadn't rained in a while and all the smaller streams and lakes in the area would be running dry. They'd have to stick to the river.

  Anik groaned as he scaled the steep incline, grabbing the base of a small, dry bush to pull himself to the top of the hill. The skin of his back was tight across his shoulders, bringing with it a sting like muscles stretched too far. Maybe that feeling would never really leave him. So long as he could still swing a sword.

  Holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he gazed out over the expanse. The terrain was flat, but broken up by a narrow copse of trees in the distance, carved through by the river that emerged on the other side.

  Raising his hand to his mouth, he whistled, a drawn-out sound that dropped at the end like the screech of a lowland hawk. A few alarmed pigeons took off from the copse below, but other than the beats of their wings, the expanse remained quiet.

  With a steadying breath, he made his way down. His left boot skidded on a few rocks hidden by the tall grass and he braced himself against the slope with an elbow. It would have been easier to make this journey on horseback, but he wouldn't have been able to fetch his horse from the stables in Llyne without someone noticing. It was pure luck that the boat and its captain had been accessibl
e at all.

  A sound made him freeze.

  Anik raised his head, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the treeline. A bird? Or something else? It had been so faint and fleeting, stolen by the wind.

  Digging his heels into the hillside, he raised his hand again and whistled, breath drawn deep. The sound cut into his own ears.

  He waited. Silence.

  Just as he was about to continue the trek down, the screech of a bird sliced through the air. No, not a bird.

  Anik's smiled and raised his hand to shield his eyes. He whistled again, half-sliding down the slope of the hill until he reached the bottom.

  From between the trees, figures appeared. At first, Anik could only see horses, but as they grew closer, he spotted the people on their backs. People he recognized.

  Before he knew it, he was surrounded by half a dozen horses, the thunder of their hooves making the ground beneath his feet tremble.

  “What in all the lands?” a middle-aged man said, pushing his horse out of the crowd and towards Anik. He pointed a short sword at him. “We've found ourselves one heck of a tall deer.” He grinned from ear to ear, a grin Anik knew well.

  “It's good to see you, Cainon,” Anik said.

  One young man skipped the pretence entirely and leapt off his horse, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around Anik so fiercely that Anik was forced to take a step back. The young man's fingers dug into his back, but Anik couldn't find it in himself to ask him to let go. Instead, he held him against his chest in return.

  “Fuck. We thought you were dead. Everyone's been saying you were dead.” The young man's voice was muffled against the side of Anik's neck.