Kaiden counted the number of people who followed Thrift at just under fifty. Together with the ten people who had volunteered to follow him to Sumil, they had enough to get the priory back onto its feet. The question now was whether Thrift would agree to his plan of restoring the order.
The thief was happily chewing on a piece of Venison and stamping his foot along with the music being played by a man with a violin. The tune was a popular one often played by the bards that travelled the kingdom’s roads. Several of the thieves were out of their chairs and dancing along to the tune; even old Grig had joined in, his skinny legs moving with the speed of a much younger man. Kaiden took a gulp from his tankard of ale and leant in close to Thrift.
“You’ve not asked me why we’re here,” he said over the noise.
Thrift glanced at him irritably and sighed. “I know why you’re here. You’re here to reclaim this place and reform the Knights of Niveren. A noble goal, but tell me – why should I give up this place? I and mine are safe here, out of the reach of the king’s thugs. Did you know that the little twerp ordered the arrest of every Fleetfoot in the realm because one thief managed to nick something from the Hall of Treasures? I was kept in a dark, dank cell for days and tortured; you’d have thought what we did at Eclin would count for something. It was only thanks to our mutual friend that I was released.”
Kaiden nodded. Luxon had convinced the king to free Thrift. “What if I could find some way of compensating you?” he said.
Thrift shook his head and banged his hand on the table. “No. We’re safe here.”
“Perhaps for now, but for how much longer?” Kaiden said switching tactics to appeal to the thief’s sense of self-preservation. “Accadus killed every man, woman and child when he conquered Balnor. That city is only a few hundred miles from here, and there is only one legion garrisoned between here and there if that. The word is that Ricard has taken every available fighting man west to face Danon. He has made a gamble that he can win there and still be able to crush Accadus. We were at the Watchers,” he said, looking at Alira and the others that had come with him. “It will take more than the Legion to defeat Danon. Ricard will lose, and when that happens who is there to protect the people from Accadus?”
The whole kingdom east of the capital was virtually defenceless. Ricard had gambled, and he would lose – Kaiden knew it in his heart. Only Luxon and magic could best Danon and the dark forces arrayed against the realm.
Thrift looked at him; his eyes were damp with tears. “You don’t have to tell me what that bastard did at Balnor. He slaughtered every Fleetfoot he could find. I lost many friends. What we have here is all that remains of us.”
“Then help me, Thrift,” Kaiden pressed. “Soon the snows will fall, and Accadus will have to slow his advance. The winter will give us some time to prepare and rebuild the order. If we do not do this then come the spring, there might not be anyone to oppose him.”
Thrift stared at the dancing folks a torn expression on his face. “I promised my people safety … but you’re right. The bastard will come here soon enough. If we are to help you, it must be down to them to decide.”
He faced Kaiden. “We will vote on it.”
Kaiden nodded and finished off his ale. It was the best outcome he could have hoped for.
8.
Luxon blinked as the bright light of the portal faded from his vision. As his eyes adjusted, he gasped. The landscape he now found himself in was one of sheer devastation. All around him were the broken bodies of countless warriors. Discarded weapons littered the crater-strewn ground, and torn banners flapped in the breeze. The air stank of smoke and blood. He turned around and staggered backwards. A high tower made of solid gold was before him, at its base was an army of black armoured figures. A huge battering ram was being pushed into place at the base of the tower; the sound of its wheels rolling over the cracked and broken earth could be heard above the roars of the army.
“Where am I?”
The devastated landscape was strangely familiar to him. He had the sensation that he been there before. It wasn’t until he turned his head that he realised where he was. The tower was atop a high peak that stood above a ruined city further down the slope.
“This is Sunguard!” he cried.
A deafening boom made him look upwards. In the sky, a brightly lit object was falling fast. More sonic booms sounded, and the clouds lit up as it passed through them. To an observer, the object looked like a shooting star.
The object was heading towards the tower, and judging by the angle of its descent it would land close by. Shouts came from the ruined city, and Luxon looked away from the sky. The mysterious black-clad army spotted the object, too, and was watching its fall. Another thunderclap sounded as it whizzed past the tower, striking the ground with such force that it sent a powerful shockwave out in all directions. Luxon was knocked off his feet by the impact and sent sprawling to the ground. The tower shook violently, and the army was sent scurrying for cover as the ruined city crumbled on top of them. Cries carried on the wind as debris fell like rain to crush hundreds of the black-clad figures.
After the quakes had ceased, a battle cry roared from the tower. Luxon got back onto his feet just in time to see a host of warriors clad in golden armour burst out of the tower and begin to fight their way through the horde that had besieged it.
A man wearing a golden helmet that covered his face save for his eyes led the charge down the mountainside, his people behind him. The golden warriors fought with a savage ferocity, determined to drive back their enemies. Dozens were slain on both sides. Despite the violence raging him about him, Luxon’s gaze settled onto a wide crater that had been created by the falling object. Within it glowed an oval object. Ignoring the fighting he slowly walked towards it. As he got closer, he could see a smouldering, yet quickly cooling, stone. A large crack in its surface suggested that something lay within.
War horns sounded snapping him out of his daze. To his right advanced the golden army, while to his left and marching up the hill from the ruined city was the black-clad army. As they crested the hill, both sides broke into a charge. War cries filled the air, and war horns blared. Luxon looked around desperately for a place to hide. His eyes settled upon a group of dead bodies. A banner lay at an angle that would conceal him. He sprinted over to the bodies and dived into cover. His hiding spot gave him a good view of the crater and of the battle that would soon be raging about him.
Both sides were running towards the crater; both reached it at the same time. Warriors from both armies leapt in to engage their enemies. Soon the deafening sound of battle once more reverberated from the mountain. To Luxon’s surprise, magic was unleashed by both sides, killing scores of combatants.
“For the Light!” roared the golden army.
The man with the golden helm blasted two dark warriors apart with his magic, ducked the sword of another and countered with his blade. His weapon cut a snarling malformed man in two with ease. Now that they were so close, Luxon got a better look of the combatants. Those in the golden armour were physically perfect. The men were strong and dark-skinned, while the women were stunningly beautiful and fierce. In contrast, the dark-armoured warriors were comprised of hideous deformed men and women, more animals than human.
More and more of the dark forces were piling into the fray. Soon those of the light would be overwhelmed.
The helmed man hurried over to the stone, raised his sword high and smashed it downwards with all of his might. His sword shattered into pieces as it struck, but it had done its job. A crack spread out from the impact site, and a sound like that of an eggshell breaking came from it. The crack ran up the side until with a shudder, the stone shattered into millions of tiny shards. The man gasped, and the battle stopped as both sides stared in wonder at what was concealed within.
“It can’t be …” Luxon gasped.
Embedded in the earth was a sword. Its blade shone with a light that made the followers of darkness retreat i
n fear. The hilt was golden, but engraved upon its surface was a face – the face of the God of Balance.
Everyone flinched and cowered as a voice boomed over the battlefield.
“Behold Asphodel, the sword of light and balance, Hope Eternal. Niveren, my champion, claim thy weapon!”
“Niveren?” Luxon muttered in stunned awe.
He now knew where he was, or more accurately, when. The portal had taken him to the climax of the First War. The war that had been the first between the followers of the light and the followers of darkness. In a way, it was a war that had never ended, for it was the conflict that he and his friends were embroiled in.
Niveren stepped forward and pulled the sword from the earth. Power surged through every fibre of his being. He felt peace, the likes of which he had never felt before. It was a feeling so pure that tears fell from his eyes. The majesty of creation itself was within the blade. It was a weapon forged for one thing: to prevent evil’s corruption.
The rumbling voice faded, leaving both sides staring at the other as though a spell had been cast upon them.
A mocking laughter broke the silence. Standing on the other side of the crater was the unmistakable figure of Danon. Unlike before, Danon now had the appearance of which Luxon was most accustomed: his skin was deathly pale, his eyes were dark and black veins covered his skin.
“You think a sword will save you?” Danon said mockingly. “Come then, let us see this gift from our Father.”
Danon nodded to one of his minions, who leapt down into the crater. As it landed, it drew a wicked-looking obsidian blade. The abomination leapt at Niveren. With Asphodel in his hand, Niveren sidestepped easily, and the minion staggered as it missed. With a quick rotation of his wrists, he flicked the blade downwards, catching the servant of Danon on his shoulder. The golden blade pierced flesh.
To Luxon’s surprise, light coursed through the abomination’s body until it was consumed. It let out a pitiful cry before exploding; magical energy was sent flying outward in all directions.
Silence descended over the crater once more as everyone watched in stunned silence.
A cold wind began to blow up the mountainside, growing in intensity until it turned into a raging tempest. The combatants had to shield their faces from the maelstrom of debris that the wind kicked into the air. Stronger and stronger the winds became, until the warriors on both sides were forced to flee the mountainside or risk being hurled from its slopes. Luxon pulled a dagger from the belt of one of the corpses he was hiding next to. He plunged the metal into the ground and held on tightly to prevent himself from being blown off the mountain.
A black cloud swirled up the mountain to wrap around Danon like a cloak. The Darkness seeped into his veins, empowering him.
“She has shown me what the world will be like under my rule!” he roared over the howling winds. “The peoples of the world will be on their knees, worshipping my dark majesty!”
He loosened his shoulders before leaping down into the crater. His black armour crackled with power. He landed in a crouch and slowly rose to his full height. Stood opposite was Niveren, his new sword held in a two-handed grip.
“Brother, please. Don’t make me destroy you,” Niveren pleaded. The pain was evident in his voice. Danon laughed. Even now; in the end, his brother showed his virtue.
“You can try … brother,” Danon spat, his tone full of venom.
Jealousy and rage filled his soul. He remembered all the wrongs that he had suffered as their father favoured the pious fool before him. Memories of his wife, Cliria, giving birth to their first child. When she had fallen pregnant, he had worshipped Esperin and even thanked his father for the blessing. The night she had given birth, however, had been a nightmare. Her screams had shaken the heavens, and once the baby had been born it had driven them both mad. Instead of a child, they had created a monster – a thing so vile and loathsome that Danon had snatched it from Cliria’s arms. He had been about to dash the creature’s head against the rocks when Esperin had come to him. It was in that darkest moment that he had succumbed to madness and truly embraced the darkness. He struggled to remember the man he had been.
“You are a good man, Danon,” Niveren beseeched. “Turn away from the darkness. Come back to the light, and help me keep the balance. I will forgive you for what you’ve done; I know that you have been manipulated. Esperin has tricked you just as she had tricked our father. Don’t you remember, all of those years ago? You questioned the gods; you hated that we were their playthings. Open your eyes; you are being used!”
For a heartbeat, Danon appeared to show doubt.
Then he shook his head, clearing the doubts he felt. The Darkness covered him until all he could think about was cutting down the shining figure in front of him. With a roar, he charged at his brother.
Niveren cried out, desperately trying to beg his brother to stop. As Danon ran towards him, the realisation dawned upon him that any hope of saving his kin was lost. The look of hatred in Danon’s eyes made him want to weep. He had loved the man charging at him, but now he knew that there would be no other option. Whoever was left standing would decide the fate of all. He glanced over his shoulder. Standing on the rim of the crater was his people. His wife, Esma, nodded to him and held her sword high in encouragement.
With a roar, Danon was on him. He swung his sword savagely, but Niveren stepped back to allow the tip of the blade to miss him by a mere hairsbreadth. Danon swung again, this time in a two-handed thrust. Niveren batted the blow aside with Asphodel, sending his brother staggering. The sword moved through the air with blistering speed, allowing Niveren to rain down blows. Danon parried every attack before disengaging and leaping away in a somersault. Niveren ran forward, following his foe’s arc through the air, and once again attacked as soon as he landed. The two men parried, thrust and fought with savage aggression and unmatched skill. They crashed together in a mass of armour and sweating flesh. They were so close that they could smell each other’s breaths. The duel was now a pushing match, a match that Danon was winning. Using all of his rage, he forced Niveren down onto one knee. A manic smile was on the dark-haired brother’s face. Niveren tensed his legs and kicked off from the earth, forcing Danon backwards. As he did so, Danon spun so that he whipped in behind. Niveren cried out as Danon’s sword punched into his back. The blade’s tip pierced through his armour, biting into the flesh beneath. Niveren dived forward into a roll to prevent Danon from pushing the star-forged blade in deeper.
“First blood to me, brother!” Danon cackled. He spun his sword and settled into a fighting stance.
Niveren could feel warm sticky blood oozing from the wound in his back. Pain lanced through his body with every breath. He closed his eyes and used his magic to seal the wound, then he too settled into a fighting stance.
As if given some unspoken signal, the two combatants darted forward, their weapons held before them. The sound of clashing metal echoed across the mountainside. Both swords whirled in a blindingly fast dance of death, as each of them tried to find a weakness in the other’s defences.
Luxon watched the two men battle it out, but as he did so the world about him began to flicker. The scene before him appeared as though it was speeding up, the duelling figures of Niveren and Danon blurring. Time was being altered as though someone or something wanted to skip a scene in a play. Luxon sat back on his heels and counted the times the sun dipped and rose on the horizon. Just as in the legends and tales he counted it rise and fall ten times.
For ten days and ten nights the battle raged.
On the tenth, time slowed once again until the scene was back to normal speed. The combatants crashed together, but this time, Niveren blasted his brother with magical lightning. The impact sent Danon hurling backwards to crash into the slope of the crater. The wind was knocked from his lungs, but still he staggered back onto his feet. His eyes widened.
Niveren held Asphodel before him and pointed its tip at Danon. Light enveloped Niveren until it
covered his entire body. The sacred sword shone so brightly that it hurt Danon’s eyes. With a roar, a bolt of light lanced forth from the weapon striking him full force in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.
Niveren stood over his brother. Piercing blue eyes shone out from the visor of his helmet. Behind him, his followers cheered. Danon’s meanwhile fled back down the mountainside.
“It is over, brother. You have lost. The balance is restored.”
Danon winced as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. His face was pale, and tears fell from his eyes.
“The sword showed me all that I have done. Have I truly fallen so far?” he said softly. Shame in his tone.
Niveren crouched next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I cannot bear this shame. Already I can feel the darkness stirring within me. Kill me, brother. Esperin took the light from me and made me her slave.” He lifted his arm and pointed at Asphodel. “That sword gave a small piece of it back to me, but her power is so great.”
Niveren stood, his arms trembling. His brother was a broken man. He could not do it. He could not bring himself to kill him.
“Do it, Niveren. Show me that you are just as dark as he,” whispered a female voice.
Niveren spun around. A shadow in the shape of a woman stood in the crater, Niveren felt fear as he realised that it was Esperin.
“I will not.”
Esperin smiled. “You and your descendants will regret that decision. Either you kill him now and serve my will, or you spare Danon, and he will arise anew. He will not stop until the world worships the Darkness. He is mine and always will be.”
Quest for the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga Book 3) Page 6
