The Path of Ashes [Omnibus Edition]

by Parker, Brian

  “Did she say how many of them there were?” Garrett asked his longtime friend.

  “No. The girl said there was a ‘horde’ of them. She couldn’t give an actual number, so it’s best to prepare for the worst.”

  “You’re right. Did the squad that you sent find any of them or was it only bodies?”

  “They didn’t find any of the bastards that did this,” Nicholas sighed. “The girl’s story of butchery is accurate. They found mutilated bodies with crushed skulls and missing limbs—most likely eaten, as she said.”

  The king turned back to the map. “How far away is that hamlet?”

  “It’s about twelve miles from here,” Nicholas replied, placing a finger on the map. “If the Vultures wanted to come directly here, then they would have been here by now.”

  Garrett shook his head slightly and said, “I don’t know this current crop of degenerates, but I know my family’s dealings with them in the past. Whoever is leading them now is trying a different tactic than the frontal attack. He’s trying to get into our heads and make us do something stupid.”

  He slammed his hand down on the map. “That’s not going to happen, Captain. I want the Guard and two companies of militia to ride out and find these vermin. Find them and send them scurrying back to their holes. Then, I want to go to their lairs and annihilate them. They’ve been a thorn in the side of the Traxx family for too long. I want them eliminated so my grandchildren aren’t dealing with their sick and twisted sense of revenge.”

  Nicholas inclined his head slightly, “As you wish…my lord.”

  Garrett heard the hesitation in his friend’s voice. They’d remained close friends throughout his term as the king, never being formal with one another. Had that changed somehow?

  “Nicholas, thank you. I know it’s not an easy task that I’m giving you and I don’t mean to be harsh toward you.”

  “It’s okay. I know that you’re under a lot of stress. We’ll get rid of them like we’ve done with other raiders.” Nicholas appeared to want to say more, but stopped.

  “What is it, old friend?” Garrett asked.

  He frowned before replying. “What of Frederick? After me, he’s the best swordsman in the Guard.”

  “Ah…” the king trailed off. His daughter had put him in a tricky situation with the Guard. Frederick was sorely needed in the field, but he could also be of great benefit as the personal guard for Tanya and the twins. She was pregnant again and wouldn’t be able to defend them if the Vultures took advantage of the large number of militiamen who would be away from the city. It was a leadership dilemma; did he send Frederick where he knew that he’d be of use or keep him at home to guard his family?

  He let out his breath and seemed to deflate with the decision that he knew was the best for the city. “Take him with you. You need him and the combat experience will serve him well.”

  NINE

  A piece of debris hit him hard in the back of the head and he sank beneath the surface for a moment. He twisted as a large tree branch floated over him on its way down the river. Varan grasped at the limbs, trying to find a way to climb on top of it, but it slipped away from his grasp. He flapped his arms and kicked his legs like Freya had shown him. It was no use; he was sinking. He knew that he was going to die on the river.

  Two men loped alongside, keeping pace with him on the riverbank until one of them dove into the water. His head fell below the surface and the icy liquid filled his lungs. This is how a champion dies, he lamented as he sunk deeper into the murky water.

  He’d given up hope when a pair of hands clamped onto the back of his neck and pulled him to the surface. Harsh breathing filled his ears as the man who’d jumped into the river pulled him toward the northern side of the river. He vomited water and partially digested tomatoes, watching it flow downstream, as the current washed it away.

  Varan felt the muddy river bottom under his feet and scrabbled to get a foothold. “Stop,” his rescuer ordered in a strange accent. “Let me carry you to shore.”

  He wanted to resist, to gain his footing and lash out at the man who’d been part of the group that attacked Freya, but his body wouldn’t respond. The muscles in his arms seized first and then his legs as the combination of cold and the lack of oxygen sapped his strength. “Good,” the man stated and continued pulling him toward the riverbank.

  Dark, rough hands gripped his arms and pulled him from the water. They tried to have him stand, but he collapsed and began coughing uncontrollably as his body tried to expel the river water. What do these bastards want? I’ll never return to being a slave!

  He rolled to all fours, playing up the severity of his coughing. He planned to spring up and break whatever appeared before him. He could do it. He’d felt the urge to allow himself to go berserker before. Like the men of the church legends, he could release himself to the rage and take as many of them with him as he could before they killed him. He briefly wondered if his muscles would cooperate or if they’d betray him as they had when he tried to stand.

  Varan tensed, preparing to strike. “Varan!” Freya shouted.

  He looked up. She ran toward him, followed by the men he’d seen earlier. They wore dark green and brown clothing that allowed them to blend in to their surroundings. Something was wrong their faces…

  “Oh, Varan!” Freya said again as she slid past his rescuers and knocked him over. “I thought the river had taken you.”

  “No,” he groaned. “I’m still alive.” He hugged her close to him, both as a gesture of his affection and to soak in some of her warmth.

  “Stand behind me when I get up,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Varan, no—” she said.

  “Come, Mother. We need to go,” one of the men ordered. “There are too many normal men near the river.”

  Varan paused. Normal men? He pulled away from Freya to get a good look at the men surrounding them. Their faces and hands were completely covered in thick, brown scales. They didn’t look human at all; they looked more like an upright lizard with a short snout.

  “What… What are you?” he stammered.

  The speaker looked at him; its glittering yellow reptile irises shocking him further into silence. “We are the People, from the Dominion. Come, we can explain on the way.”

  The cold had seeped into his flesh, chilling him more than when it had been on the surface. “We’re not going anywhere with you,” he replied.

  “Varan, don’t,” Freya warned.

  “We don’t know who these things are,” he countered. “I’m not about to become sidetracked from our mission.”

  “Your mission is over, Primus,” the reptilian man stated, startling him. “You have brought the Mother to us. You are free to go where you want, but she is coming to the Dominion.”

  “How do you…” he trailed off. Freya had called him by his given name, not the term “Primus.” How did these things know who he was?

  “We have known of Gaia’s coming for three decades. Our priests foretold her birth and we had a celebration when we learned that the physical embodiment of the Mother was born as a human child.”

  “Wait, what?” Freya asked. “I want to know what the hell is going on before we do anything.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he replied bowing his head. He flicked his wrist at several of the others and they disappeared into the tree line. “Guards. We must keep watch against the normal men this far from the Dominion.”

  He made a noise, which sounded like a sigh to Varan, before continuing. “My name is Thistle. I am the Watcher of the Coven. We tried to reach Gaia when she was a child—”

  “My name isn’t Gaia, it’s Freya.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he agreed without truly acknowledging her statement “The distance was too far to travel to reach you; the great sand was too much for us and we had to turn back. We learned of the Mother’s capture and bided our time until the moment was right. Before the last winter, our priests tried to communicate with you, Primus, but they c
ouldn’t reach you. Grobahn, our high priest, sent your brother a dream, which brought you and the Mother to us.”

  Varan harrumphed and wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to control the shaking that was beginning to take over. “Maybe that’s why they couldn’t talk to me then. Caleb was much more spiritual than I.”

  Freya held up her hands. “Wait, so Caleb’s vision, the one that brought us north to find a forest, it was your people that sent it?”

  “Yes, Mother. The place where you were held was still too far away for us to reach, so we sent the message to the other normal man so he could bring you to us. We were unaware that he was to die, but he passed the message and it turned out alright now that you are safe.”

  Varan’s world seemed to drop out from under him. The idea that he was heading north to fulfill some great destiny faded away. He’d been used. He was simply a messenger delivering Freya to these creatures. What if I hadn’t decided to take her with me?

  He focused on what the creature was saying. He’d missed part of it trying to come to grips with the idea that he wasn’t the reason for the quest.

  “So, you see, Mother… You are the spirit of the earth, reborn in human form. You will help us to make the land whole again.”

  “S…s…so how is s…sh…she s…supposed t…to…” The shaking had now passed into his throat, making it impossible for him to get his question out.

  Thistle tilted his head curiously. It was an animal-like gesture, which was much more unnerving to see than the human traits he’d previously shown. “What is wrong with him?”

  “He’s cold,” Freya replied, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing vigorously. “He fell into the water and he can’t warm up. We need a fire.”

  “No!” the creature hissed. “The normal men will find us for sure if we light a fire. We must leave this place. We have a camp where we waited for you. It’s not far; much safer there.”

  “Okay. Take us there. Can you walk?”

  Of course I can walk. I am the greatest warrior in all the land. Varan tried to speak, but no words could escape his lips. He felt pressure around his waist and the world spun as he was hoisted onto someone’s shoulders before passing out.

  *****

  Frederick held the reins loosely in one hand as his horse, Ash, followed behind Nicholas at the head of the column of militiamen. Skirmishers beat their way through the brush alongside, trying to flush out any of the bastards that may be lurking about in the early morning fog.

  The Guard and two companies of Homelake militia had been out searching for the Vultures for twelve days without an encounter. They’d found evidence of where they’d been, campsites and more burnt homesteads, but they didn’t seem to be gaining any ground on their quarry. The force they tracked was much larger than their own, estimates went as high as a thousand men, but they were confident that the militia would be able to handle themselves against any untrained enemy in the phalanx formation.

  Complacency and boredom were the real problems facing the Traxx Guard leadership. It was planting season and the men were already beginning to grumble that they’d been away from their crops and families too long. There was a narrow window of time between the last killing frost and the beginning of the rains to plant the fields. Otherwise, they’d miss out on all of that water and the crops wouldn’t grow to maturity before the winter set in once more.

  To be honest, Frederick was beginning to feel the pull toward Homelake himself. He missed Tanya and the children and had been shocked when Nicholas told him to kit up for the field. He didn’t argue with his captain, but he thought that he’d be the most useful guarding The Keep against any of the Vultures who were so bold as to infiltrate the city.

  “What are you brooding about?” Nicholas asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, just thinking about where these vermin could be hiding,” Frederick replied. He’d heard the king use the term “vermin” before and liked the way it sounded. He thought it made him sound more mature.

  “Yeah, we’re so close. I can feel it,” Nicholas stated. “The coals from that last home were still warm.”

  The burnt homestead they’d come across that morning was still smoldering and the embers were barely darkened. At most, the fire had died three or four hours before they got there, but they had no way of knowing when the fire was set or how long before it burned out and the Vultures had left.

  “Maybe we’re catching up to them,” the younger officer agreed.

  “I think we’ll catch up to them tomorrow night at the latest. They don’t even know that they’re being followed, so they’re taking their time, killing at will.” Nicholas paused and made a show of hammering his gloved fist into his open hand. “We will crush them; they won’t know what hit them.”

  “Ah, sir. Is it wise for us to have left Homelake with so much of our force? What if the Vultures take the opportunity to attack while half of the militia is gone?”

  Nicholas waved his hand dismissively. “They aren’t that smart. You can see that we’re chasing after a ragged bunch of savages.”

  They rode in silence for a while and Frederick considered his commander’s words. Were they just a bunch of crazies living out in the woods or was that a ruse, meant to trick them into letting their guard down?

  Somewhere, deep in the woods surrounding the road, something large fell. Frederick tried to make sense of the noise that he’d heard. Was it a tree falling in the forest, or a boulder dislodged from the mountain slopes? It sounded natural, not something that should concern him, but for some reason it did.

  He glanced left and then right, ensuring that the skirmishers were still there. Dismounted men, carrying the militia spears and short swords stretched off into the distance. They were spaced ten or fifteen feet apart and had a second line of men offset behind them to ensure the first group didn’t miss anything. The older, more experienced woodsmen seemed fine and not concerned with the noise, so he did his best to dismiss the sounds as well.

  “I’m going to ride back in the column and check the troops,” Frederick announced.

  “Good idea,” Nicholas answered. “We need to keep the militia tight. Their minds will begin to wander the longer we stay afield.”

  My mind is starting to wander, he thought sarcastically. “Okay, sir. I’ll be back.” He pulled gently on the reins to turn Ash toward the rear of their formation.

  Frederick rode his dark grey horse slowly down the line of militiamen. They walked three abreast, shields strapped to their backs and spears resting on their shoulders. As they passed him by, several of the men and women called out to him and he waved back. They’d been training together during the city’s mandatory drills for years and he liked to think that the troops respected, even liked him as a leader.

  He’d passed the first company when a gruff voice called from up ahead, “Aye, Sergeant.”

  Frederick searched the group he was near until he recognized the squat figure of an older fisherman whom he’d become friends with over the years. “How are you, Rolf?”

  He eased Ash back around in the direction that the column traveled and waited for his friend’s row to catch up to him before flicking the reins softly. The horse began walking alongside the column, matching their pace down the overgrown road.

  “I’m doing good, Sergeant. How’s the princess?”

  Rolf’s question elicited several snickers from those in earshot, including someone who yelled out, “Must be givin’ it to her right if she’s keepin’ ya ‘round!”

  Frederick let the statement slide. “Princess Tanya is doing well, thank you for asking. The children are growing and getting into more trouble every day.”

  The fisherman nodded his head and leaned over conspiratorially as they walked. “The lads was sayin’ that yer daughter—Emerald, isn’t it?”

  “Jade.”

  “Ah, that’s right, Jade. Anyways, the boys was sayin’ that she’s got a touch of the Gift. Is that true?”

  He frowned. It was true; his
daughter’s visions had intensified recently. Some of The Keep’s staff were terrified of the little girl and word had gotten out into the community it appeared. The only one who seemed comfortable at all times around her was their nursemaid, Clarissa. Before the Vultures appeared, the king had offered to take Jade to the Seers to see if they could ease the burden of her visions, but Tanya refused. She believed that if Jade went to the Seers, they would make her one of them, freaks and outcasts of society.

  Frederick didn’t think that the women at the Valley Lodge would try to steal the child. That seemed a little far-fetched. They were pariahs to most of the population, but that didn’t mean that they were going to kidnap a child—regardless of Jade’s frequent dreams of abduction. He’d sided with the king and argued that the Seers may be able to help their daughter, not hurt her.

  Frederic forced himself to laugh. “Jade doesn’t have the Gift, Rolf. She certainly has an overactive imagination, maybe that’s what the city folk are all worked up about. You know how it is when you tell someone something. By the time the message has been passed four or five times, it’s entirely different.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Sergeant,” the fisherman answered unconvincingly. “But hey! I hear the princess is with child again. Is ‘at true?”

  “It is. The twins are excited and won’t stop talking about the new baby.”

  “They’s what? Four.”

  Frederick thought for a moment. Time had a way of slipping by without notice. “They turned five a couple months ago.”

  “Damn!” Rolf barked. “I remember when they was born. Don’t seem that long ago.”

  “Believe me, I’m feeling those years,” Frederick said. “You should have seen the mess they made in the—”

  One of the skirmishers off to the right screamed, catching the words in his throat. He turned to see what it was and then the ringing of steel against steel echoed across the woods. They’d flushed someone out of hiding.