Steel And Sorrow (Book 2)

by Joshua P. Simon

  He dismounted to better lead them and threw on his helm. Looking out from the mouth of the panther’s head, he yelled at them to advance.

  * * *

  Kaz crashed into the center formation with his reinforcements. Bronn’s troops had joined the battle recklessly, creating disorder that weakened Tomalt’s momentum. Kaz’s skirmishers quickly reinforced his heavy infantry and stabilized his lines.

  Kaz bullied his way to the front, and sheared the top quarter of a frightened soldier’s head with his sword. The man fell, eyes still wide in disbelief. The looks of horror continued as he hacked and battered the interchangeable soldiers that continued to fall before him. His armor seemed to hold the gaze of the first half dozen he killed. Shouts that the One Below himself had taken the battlefield started spreading among the enemy.

  The proclamation caused the enemy to find their courage and several rushed him at once. Their foolish prejudice only fueled the fire in his belly. Kaz went about killing like a woodsmen chopping down trees, moving unencumbered as Cisod said he would be able to.

  He lowered his shoulder, and barreled into a man with a raised shield. The impact threw the soldier backward into two others. All three fell in a heap of limbs. Kaz sidestepped a thrust from the next attacker. He punched the hilt into the man’s face. The edge of the crossguard bit into the man’s visor and Kaz tore away part of his opponent’s helm. Kaz punched again, jamming the pommel into the soldier’s eye. A chilling scream sounded as the man clawed at his face.

  Kaz ducked under another wild swing and sliced through his opponent’s mail. Entrails spilled from the soldier who dropped to his knees, looking down in horror.

  Soldiers came at Kaz one after the other. It seemed to him a line of men waiting death.

  Kaz lost himself in the killing as the enemy piled around his feet. He pushed the point of his sword through a gap in an opponent’s armor under the armpit. The man collapsed and Kaz yanked his sword free. He looked around for his next opponent and finally found none nearby. He realized then that he somehow had worked himself free of the organized lines and rather than retreating with the right wing as planned, he and his skirmishers had pushed deeper into Bronn’s forces.

  I couldn’t even follow my own orders.

  As the last of the fog dissipated, a thunderous scream ripped through the air. Crusher came into focus, standing alone as a pocket of the enemy survivors threw themselves at him. The Ghal’s warhammer sent one soldier ten feet into the air while the backswing flattened another. The giant raised the massive weapon overhead in triumph. He roared in defiance.

  He’ll be talking about this for days.

  A burst of fire outside of Kaz’s peripheral slammed into the Ghal.

  Crusher fell.

  Three mages, two black and one green, game into view, forming a half circle around the giant. Wisps of smoke rose from Crusher’s frame as the fire quickly burned itself out. Kaz would have thought him dead if not for the faint up and down movements of his friend’s chest.

  One of the black-robed mages spoke, but Kaz only saw the man’s lips move. The rage coursing through his limbs and pounding in his heart filled his head. He rushed the three mages, growling. The black-robed mage looked up and smiled. He raised his arm as a bright orange fire exited his hands toward Kaz.

  Kaz felt a familiar heat engulf him, reminiscent of the power that struck him at Cathyrium. He tensed his muscles, cursing himself for being so careless. But the fire faded.

  The armor worked.

  Kaz reached his attacker in several fast strides. The mage’s face paled. His sword nearly shorn the mage in half at the waist. Just like at Cathyrium, power exploded from the man. The burst threw Kaz backward, but the armor protected him again and he rose quickly to his feet. Kaz hurried back to the other two mages, dazed from the blast, and lopped off their heads in two rapid strikes.

  Horns sounded.

  Kaz scanned the field. The remnants of two armies fought their way through the bloody mess of a battleground. To his right, Bronn’s battered forces escaped south.

  Near what had once been the center’s lines, Tomalt’s army retreated east.

  Kaz’s forces hadn’t been able to completely encircle Tomalt, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

  He grabbed the first half dozen men he found and sent orders to Jeldor and Grayer not to pursue the enemy. He didn’t want his forces divided.

  Looking over the field of death once again, he also knew that his army had not made it out unscathed. Before he pushed on with the campaign he wanted a better assessment of his losses.

  He shouted at several of his skirmishers within earshot. “Bring a wagon up and tell the first mage you find to come with you.”

  “But sir, we’ll never get a wagon through all this,” the soldier said, waving a hand.

  Kaz stormed toward the soldier. “You find a way to do as I say or so help me your corpse will join the others.”

  The man paled. “Y-yes, sir. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  The men ran off. Kaz walked over and took a knee before his friend. He laid a hand on the blackened armor of the Ghal.

  “Don’t die on me,” he whispered.

  * * *

  Krytien allowed himself to relax when he received word that Kaz wanted no one to pursue Tomalt and that the army should hold its position. Like the other soldiers dragging themselves along, his body ached down to his toenails. He couldn’t imagine pushing on in his current state.

  I weakened myself too much on that blasted armor yesterday. He blew out a deep breath. Well, Kaz is alive at least.

  He had reached the left wing just in time to solidify their defenses. Upon arrival, he had been surprised by Janik’s efforts in maintaining a steady assault against the enemy. The young mage had worn an intense glare that made sense to Krytien later as he learned of Yorn’s death. Krytien tried to comfort the young mage, but Janik said he wanted to be alone.

  Krytien didn’t press. He understood.

  * * *

  Janik covered Yorn’s head. They had been friends since Amcaro selected them to study on Estul Island as boys.

  It was supposed to be fun and games.

  He turned his gaze away from his friend’s lifeless form and took in the destruction around him as survivors dragged the dead to burning pyres.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  Yanasi had angered him at the time for pulling him away from Yorn. But in the battle’s aftermath, he realized how right she had been. He had managed to pull himself together long enough to help the army’s lines hold firm until Krytien and several other mages came to their aid.

  He shook his head when he thought about how quickly Krytien had taken over the situation. He’s more powerful than I realized.

  “One Above, Nora was right! Yorn is dead.”

  Janik turned to Lufflin as the mage approached. He wore a look of dread that turned into anger as he spoke. “We’ve got to get out of here, Janik. Forget those stupid books. Forget this war and forget this country. Now is the perfect time for you, me, and Nora to sneak off. They won’t realize we’ve gone until it’s too late.”

  “No,” said Janik.

  “What do you mean, no? We can go to Thurum or even Mytarcis and have some fun there. Their mages aren’t as well trained as we are. We can probably be rich in just a few years.”

  “No. You go if you want those things. I won’t ever again see this as fun. Not after today.”

  “Listen to yourself. You’re letting Krytien and all the others change you.”

  “Yes. And for the better. Yorn died. I can’t just walk away while others share his fate. I’m staying.”

  “This isn’t our fight,” said Lufflin in a pleading tone.

  Janik shook his head. “You’re wrong. This is the sort of thing Amcaro had hoped to avoid, yet trained us for all along.” Janik met his friend’s eyes and for the briefest of moments saw what appeared to be sorrow. But it disappeared and disappointment took its p
lace.

  “You’re an idiot,” said Lufflin. “And before it’s done, I’ll show you how wrong you are.”

  Janik watched Lufflin storm off.

  I can’t believe I ever looked up to you. His eyes drifted down to Yorn’s body. We all did.

  The tears came again as he grabbed the robes of his friend at the shoulders. With a grunt he lifted his torso and walked backward, dragging his best friend toward the blazing fires.

  * * *

  Krytien breathed heavily as he made it atop the first rise. He spotted Drake and said a quick prayer of thanks if only because he didn’t have to climb any higher. Like everyone else, he needed a hot meal and a good night’s rest. But also like everyone else, there would be none of that immediately with so much still to do in the battle’s aftermath. Kaz had given Krytien permission to check in on the Hell Patrol members before receiving his next set of orders.

  Hopefully, I won’t be out scouting with Rygar again.

  Drake and Senald were wrapping up a conversation. From what Krytien overheard, Drake impressed him. The boy spoke like a veteran, issuing orders after dishing out praise for a job well done.

  Drake dismissed Senald and faced Krytien. The mage saw his fatigue went beyond physical. It was stress. Krytien hated to see Drake starting to lose that youthful exuberance others found so infectious.

  War will make you grow up faster than you should.

  “How are things?” asked Krytien, trying not to let his thoughts show.

  “Good. As you probably overheard, Senald did great and the new trebuchets worked. Everyone banded together after an initial misstep, and when the fighting reached us, we kept our heads, made use of the high ground, and defended our position.”

  Krytien cleared his throat. “About that misstep. Raker?”

  Without any further prodding, Drake spilled everything to Krytien. He finished with a heavy sigh. “I just don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

  “Where is he? I was hoping to talk to him.”

  “He ran off. One Above knows where. He even left his mace behind,” said Drake.

  His mace? That’s bad. “Nothing personal, but I don’t think anything you say or do is going to get through to him. Someone from the old crew needs to set him straight. I’ll try to talk to him first.” He paused. “Who knows, maybe today was the kick he needed to get his mind right.”

  Drake shook his head. “I hope so.”

  * * *

  The brief moment of security Yanasi and Rygar shared after finding each other at the battle’s conclusion ended with the howls of a woman wailing. Other than herself and a few mages, few women populated the army and the cries didn’t sound as hard as a soldier’s might, but instead seemed frantic with despair.

  They followed the sounds and found a pregnant woman on the ground holding the hand of a dead officer in Tomalt’s army. Yanasi learned that the man had been her husband.

  How did she even find him among all this carnage?

  The emotional shock of losing her husband sent the woman into labor. Yanasi sent Rygar off for help, telling him to grab Wiqua if possible. She knew the old man would be busy with their injured and probably exhausted, but if anyone could help, he would be the best choice.

  Yanasi knelt at the woman’s side while they waited for Rygar to return. The sobs of the woman’s physical and emotional suffering brought back Yanasi’s own painful memories. She recalled the closeness she once shared with her own mother in Thurum before she died in the plague. Memories of her father’s abandonment followed and then finally, the night Jonrell saved her life and brought her into the Hell Patrol.

  Rygar galloped up with Wiqua behind him in the saddle. The old man dismounted and hurried over despite his obvious fatigue.

  “Rygar told me what happened,” said Wiqua as he took a knee beside them.

  Sweat beaded on the woman’s pale skin and she arched her back with the next scream.

  “Please,” Yanasi begged after thinking about her mother. “You have to help her.”

  Wiqua tried to smile. “I will do all that I can. Give me a moment.”

  Wiqua moved his hands over the woman, pausing at her belly before then lifting the woman’s dress. After finishing his examination, he covered the woman’s legs and reached out to squeeze her hand. His mouth silently moved and his eyes tightened. The woman’s breathing calmed and her pain seemed to subside. Wiqua opened his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” asked the woman.

  Wiqua spoke in a soft tone. “Your body isn’t handling this well and your child’s heartbeat is faint from the stress on your body. I’ve done my best to ease your pain.”

  The woman began to cry. “Can you help us?”

  “Yes. But,” he paused, “since you’re pregnant and both of you are in poor condition, the situation is complicated. If I attempt to heal you and the baby, it’s possible that you may both live, but it’s also possible that neither of you will.” Yanasi heard the sorrow in Wiqua’s voice.

  “And what if you heal only one of us?” the woman croaked.

  “Then I’m certain that the one I focus on will live.”

  Without pausing, the woman answered back. “Save my baby.”

  Wiqua nodded and Yanasi saw a tear run down his cheek. “Of course. A mother will always choose her child. As it should be,” he whispered.

  Suddenly finding her voice during the exchange, Yanasi blurted out. “Wait. There has to be another way. I’ve seen you do such amazing things.”

  Wiqua bowed his head. “It’s hard to explain, but the healing process is much more complicated when two are essentially sharing the same body.”

  Yanasi thought about all the death around her and the anguish the poor woman had already gone through. “It’s not fair.” She felt Rygar wrap his arms around her.

  The pregnant woman smiled at Yanasi. “It’s for the best.” She reached her hand out and grabbed Yanasi’s. “Please, do something for me.”

  “Alright,” said Yanasi in a hoarse whisper.

  “I was told by a seer that my baby’s a girl. I don’t have any other family. Please see that she finds a good home.”

  “I will.”

  The woman’s body suddenly arched back in pain.

  “I have to start now before it’s too late,” said Wiqua in an urgent tone.

  The woman nodded weakly and Wiqua coached her on what to do as Yanasi and Rygar helped where they could. A short while later a baby’s cry greeted them.

  Wiqua held the baby to the woman. “She’ll be just fine.”

  The woman smiled and whispered, “Thank you,” as the light faded from her eyes.

  All three figures sat with their heads down, huddled and sobbing, as the baby’s cry echoed ominously over the battleground.

  * * *

  Kaz stared over the flowing river, his back to the field. He had seen enough of it. He had met with his captains, issued orders for the short term, looked over the prisoners, and visited his army’s wounded. He thought of those suffering in the infirmary, and those that died.

  There will only be more fighting to come. I’m glad Elyse isn’t here to see this.

  The memories of his past often focused on the heart racing thrill of battle, never on the depressing aftermath. He wondered if those things ever bothered him then.

  Fighting with only himself to worry about was one thing, but now that he commanded so many others, he found the feeling of excitement had diminished. Perhaps Crusher’s injuries had put him in a foul mood. Kaz had stayed with him until his condition stabilized, only then moving on to his other duties.

  Is that how Jonrell felt when I was injured at Cathyrium?

  He sighed. The longer I’m in command, the more I understand him.

  Kaz looked to the sky.

  Chapter 19

  Nareash never imagined that the sight of Juanoq would lift his mood so thoroughly. Since coming to Hesh, all he thought about was returning home to Cadonia. Yet, the distant outline of Juanoq
’s high walls brought a genuine smile to his face.

  He couldn’t wait to check on the progress of his projects and eat a well-cooked meal. Most of all, he looked forward to catching up with Tobin. The High Mage had grown up with few friends and most of those he considered mere acquaintances. But over time, he and Tobin had developed a connection.

  Nareash squinted as the ship cut through the low waves. With a better view of Juanoq’s harbor, he gripped the railing tight. His smile vanished.

  “Master, is everything alright?”

  “What is wrong with the harbor, Colan?” he asked in a strained voice.

  “Wrong? Nothing seems wrong . . . except that it’s empty. What does that mean?”

  “It means that Tobin grew impatient and has started his campaign early.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”

  Because he doesn’t need me? Or perhaps doesn’t want me?

  Nareash shook his head and relaxed his grip.

  “His reasons are his own,” said Nareash.

  “The ships!” said Guwan from behind. The heavy boots of the Kifzo clodded up beside Colan. He gestured toward the approaching harbor. “They’ve left without us!”

  “Yes,” said Nareash. “They have.”

  “We need to leave right away to join them.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “We will leave only after I see to other matters first. Three to four days should be enough time. Remember what I said about opportunity.”

  Guwan took a deep breath. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

  Nareash reached into his robes and withdrew a ruby. It was one of many jewels they had harvested in sacks from Quarnoq before leaving the ancient city. He handed it to Guwan. “Get lost in a whorehouse and enjoy yourself. I imagine you could buy a place yourself with that. I’ll send someone for you when you’re needed.”