And made the approach of twenty Mercs into the light of their fire that much more difficult to hear.
Chapter 27: The King’s Swords
"Well, if it isn't the trio that escaped Breyland and gave General Vyncent such a hard time outside of Loran," sneered the man who was obviously in charge of the operation. He was not someone Ealrin had seen before.
He held next to him a giant sword whose handle extended to almost as tall as he was. His hair was braided into a single braid that came across his left shoulder. The suit of armor he wore was dotted with small plates of metal that would allow him to move around easily but also deflect blows that were not straight and precise. The smile on his face said that he knew a secret that no one else did, and loving the fact that he hid it from those present.
His guard of men, the other nineteen or so that now surrounded the group, was armed with swords, spears, axes and other hand weapons. Ealrin was grateful that none carried bows, however the feeling was short lived, as he knew they were outnumbered six to one and that was taking Blume into account. He had only seen her heal wounds, not use her ability as a Speaker to fight. He hoped she had something up her sleeve; otherwise this would be a short battle.
Both he and Holve were separated from their weapons. Ealrin's was still in its sheath that was resting beside the saddle of the horse. A convenient spot for some time that wasn't this very moment. Holve's spear was sitting next to Blume, who was seated opposite him on the other side of the fire.
They were totally unprepared for this and it was not going to be easy to come out alive.
Holve, as usual, broke the silence that hung in the air after the man's remark.
"Well, I must congratulate you. It's been a long time since someone has been able to sneak up on me without my noticing. Well done."
After saying this he rose to his feet and stretched, as if the whole affair were quite casual, and twenty men didn't stand poised to strike at him if he made a wrong move. He turned so that he could see the one who had spoken clearly. Meanwhile, Ealrin was trying to judge the distance between himself and his sword, and if he could grab it and be back by Blume's side in time to aid her in any way.
"My master would like to congratulate you for dispatching some of his best scouts. He admires skill when he sees it and would like to recognize you for it," said the man who Ealrin assumed must be a general or other leader in the Merc army.
"Those were some of your best?" Holve asked in mock surprise. "I must say you really need a larger pool to search from if that's all you can come up with. Though with your 'masters' views, I'm not surprised you have such a small range to choose from."
"He offers to you a way to repay him for the loss of his men," the man continued, ignoring Holve's comment for the time being. "Join him and all will be forgiven."
"I think it's safe to assume you know my answer is no, correct?" replied Holve. Was Ealrin imagining this or was he taking a different stance than Ealrin was used to seeing? At the moment he couldn't tell because, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Blume move her hand slowly to the necklace around her neck and begin to mutter a string of words he couldn't understand under her breath.
"If you choose not to come willingly, I have orders to bring you back alive by whatever means necessary so that he might tempt you into his service personally."
The men surrounding their campfire moved in to tighten up their circle. Most hoisted their arms carrying their weapons into a ready to strike position. Ealrin had all but decided that he was going to do his best to run for his sword while dragging Blume with him to protect her, when he heard the rustle of the tree above him. And was that Blume whispering to his left as well? Several of the men who surrounded them looked up to see what was causing the disturbance. That was when the very limbs of the tree came crashing down on them, as if they were arms that belonged to a very large giant or troll.
It was all Ealrin needed, he jumped to his feet and grabbed Blume by the scruff of her neck. She gasped quickly as she was pulled from her spot and was now being dragged to the place where Ealrin's sword rested. A Merc jumped out from behind the horse at them and at the same time, two arrows caught him in the chest.
Ealrin didn't take the time to see where the arrows came from or to find out if they were intended for him or the raider. He simply grabbed his sword from its sheath and turned to see that less than six of the original twenty still stood. Some had fallen due to the smashing they had received from the tree and the others were dead from arrows protruding from them in various angles.
There was someone fighting for them from the outside, which he was sure of. But what was causing the tree to come to life and aid them as well? Ealrin looked at Blume, whom he had drug with him to the tree and saw a look of exhaustion in her face. He knew now that the tree had acted based on Blume's wishes and that now she was losing her energy from speaking so mighty an act to occur. She would be defenseless in moments.
Ealrin took up a guarded pose, with his horse and the tree it was tied to behind him. He stood over Blume, who sat at his feet. He would not move from this spot. He would guard Blume with his life.
Holve had acted just as quickly as Ealrin. As the arrows began to fly he dove for his spear and recovered by rolling in the grass towards a man with a spear of his own. The two exchanged only a few blows before Holve gained the upper hand and turned his attention to a foe that was still living.
The general had watched all this happen with snarling contempt. Ealrin knew that he would not be as easily defeated as his guards were. He took up his giant sword and began his slow and purposeful walk towards Ealrin. The look of loathing in his eyes was evident. Ealrin could tell that he was looking into the eyes of a man who did not like to lose.
Around them men and women were coming into the light of the fire. These were not the raiders who had originally encircled them, but instead these newcomers wore uniform colors and imagery on their clothes. Ealrin hoped he would live long enough to thank them for their rescue and to see what image they wore on their maroon colored garb. Currently, he readied himself to defend Blume from the death gaze of the man who was but a few steps away from him.
"Surrender the girl to me and I'll let you live," he said as he held his sword's handle with both hands. Ealrin was mystified as to how he could lift the massive blade. Why would he want Blume? Had he seen her speaking to the elements earlier and knew that was how his men were crushed by the limbs of the tree?
"You'll claim her only after my life has spilled from me," Ealrin said with much more confidence than he felt. And yet, as when he had first run to Blume's aid in Weyfield, he knew that he must defend her. That in some way, her life was tied to his. He would not allow her to be taken or killed before he no longer had breath in him to defend her with.
"Fool," was his only response as he lifted his blade and lunged forward to attack.
The brute force of his weapon striking Ealrin's knocked him back against the trunk of the tree. This man was monstrously strong. Ealrin made several attempts to swing his blade at him. All were deflected as easily as one swats at a fly. Ealrin was outclassed and overpowered. Yet he would not give up.
The general made another forceful swing of his blade at Ealrin and again, it knocked him back towards his horse. This was not the way to win this battle. He dove quickly to the man's feet and made to kick his legs out from underneath him, yet as he was in the air, the handle of the general's blade knocked him to the ground. Ealrin felt the wind go out of him. He saw the mighty blade rise into the air. He would be dead after the first swing of it.
Then two men came from Ealrin's right and threw themselves into his foe. With his preoccupation with Ealrin, the man was caught off guard and knocked backwards by the force of the two. They quickly regained their footing and raised their swords in preparation to strike.
Outraged that he had been denied his kill, the general let out a fierce howl of rage, and then began chanting in the same language that Blume had when she h
ad healed her wounds by the river. Yet this sounded darker. More like the rumbling of thunder before a storm. And then both his eyes and his blade began to shine with a deep purple light, faintly at first, and then darker. The light rose from its source as if it were smoke from a fire and dissipated into the night sky.
Ealrin had managed to find his breath and his footing and returned to stand over Blume. She was barely holding up her head and breathing heavily, as if she had run a great distance and just now stopped to rest. Sweat poured from her forehead and Ealrin could tell in her eyes that only sheer determination kept her from slipping into the same sleep that had overtaken her before. She knew as Ealrin did that this was no time to lose the sense of your surroundings. He stood by her as he watched the general lunge at the two men, both of whom were wearing the same maroon color as the others. They met his attack with full force. And yet every time they struck at him, he was there to block them. He moved with a speed that Ealrin had never encountered before and could only barely watch without becoming dizzy. Every time the glowing blade struck at one of the others wielded by his two defenders it sparked as if had just been removed from a forger's fire.
And then one man yelled in pain. The general had a satisfied look on his face as his blade split the air across the chest of one of the men and sent him flying backwards. Enraged, the other made good at a chance to strike at his enemy, but a second swing of his sword nearly caught him across the chest as well. And it would have ended him had Holve not shoved him out of harm’s way and struck with his own spear. The general let out a cry of pain as the spear pierced his abdomen. Then his blade came crashing down at Holve, who had not yet recovered from the momentum of his attack. In one swift motion, the blade fell and a great purple flame engulfed the man.
He was gone.
And Holve lay on the ground, writhing in pain and clutching his stomach. The purple blade had indeed found its mark.
Holve was going to die.
***
Ealrin was at Holve's side, inspecting the wound. It wasn't bleeding as a normal sword wound would. Instead, it was pulsing with a sickly purple hue. His skin around the cut was turning a crude red and purple mixture. It began seeping into the rest of his body like a poison.
When their leader had departed, the two Merc raiders left threw down their arms and fled. They had been pursued by a handful of the uniformed soldiers, but the rest remained. Two were at the side of the man who had already died from his own run in with the sword of the general. One of them was the man Holve had pushed aside. He was sobbing into the chest that no longer moved up and down with the rhythmic signs of life.
Blume had just now crawled over to Holve and sat next to Ealrin. He could tell she was exhausted from her earlier magic. Still, she grabbed her jewel in one hand and placed another over the wound in Holve's belly. Again she spoke in words that Ealrin could neither comprehend nor repeat if he tried.
Sweat poured down her brow in earnest as she spoke. Her hand began to shake violently, as a low green light began to shine through the hand clasped over her necklace. Unlike when she had healed herself, no light came from Holve's injuries. Just the spreading of the purple and red poison from his wound. He still writhed in pain on the ground.
"The wound won't... won't let me speak to it," Blume gasped. "It's fighting me." She leaned to one side and Ealrin had to catch her before she fell over completely.
"I... I don't know if I... if I can help him," she breathed. She was panting hard from exhaustion. “I can try to isolate the damage...” her voice trailed off. She was running out of energy and was fighting to stay sitting up.
Tears began to form in Ealrin's eyes. Was he to lose another friend to senseless violence?
"It's okay Blume," he choked. "You tried."
It was all he could manage to say. Blume's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she gave in to her desperate need for rest.
Two men came close to them and bent down next to Holve. One with shaggy brown hair spoke to Ealrin.
"If we hurry, we may be able to get him to the healers in Thoran. They may be able to save him. They've seen demon wounds like this before and have treated them with some success."
Ealrin looked the man in the eye. He had no idea who he was, nor why he and his fellow comrades came to their aid. Yet he felt as if he could trust them to care for Holve.
"Do what you can," Ealrin said through his strained voice. He didn't wish to betray his tears as weakness. Holve was the only friend he knew in the world. He didn't want to lose him.
"We will," the man replied, putting a hand on Ealrin's shoulder. "We have to. He's our general."
And with that, the two lifted Holve's body up to a rider on a horse. It wasn't the cries of pain that made the blood run cold in Ealrin. It was how limp his friend looked atop the horse. This was the same man who so skillfully fought with any who had opposed him. Now he was slipping away by the moment. They finally settled him in front of the rider.
"Make haste, Turnin. Tell the king what has happened," said the other man who had bent beside the shaggy brown haired man.
The man named Turnin gave a curt nod and then slapped the sides of his horse with his boots. Ealrin watched them ride into the night.
So, he was now in the presence of the army of Thoran.
***
The group began to journey north, following behind Holve and Turnin. Ealrin hoisted Blume onto his horse and held the reigns as they walked ahead. There were eight of them in all headed to Thoran's capital, nine if you counted the man whose body they had placed on a horse to carry him back to Thoran to be buried properly, not thrown on the fire and burned like they had the Merc raiders. Including the four who chased after the two runners there were thirteen in all.
It didn't take Ealrin long to see that this was a mixed group, much like those who were aboard the White Wind. Elves, dwarves, and men alike wore the maroon colors of Thoran. Among them were two women. Their mood was somber at best. They had hoped to be able to come to their commander's rescue and it had not gone according to their plan.
The brown haired man came up to Ealrin and walked beside him for a while before he spoke.
"Holve was to bring a host with him. We were meant to meet him at River Head a week ago. When word came of the goblin raiding, we feared the worst and traveled south to see if he had come by a different route. We saw your fire as well as the Mercs attack. We... We had hoped to route them all and be reunited with Holve as well as the others he was to bring. How long have you traveled with him? What happened to the warriors he was going to bring? And where's Roland?"
A great sadness overcame Ealrin. This was a tale he was not wishing to tell without Holve standing by him. And yet it was all he could give these warriors at the moment.
Tale by tale he related being found by Holve at Good Harbor, encountering Roland, sailing on the White Wind, being attacked by goblins, shipwrecked, the destruction of Weyfield, finding and saving Blume, the encounter at Breyland, the subsequent escape that led to the discovering of Blume's ability, and the last few days of camping en route to Thoran's capital.
More than just the man he was walking with was listening. Some conversation had continued when Ealrin first began to retell his story, but by the tale's ending, everyone in the party was listening to him speak.
"And then you came," he concluded. "At every step, one of us should have perished. Yet the fates seem to have a different plan. At least, I hope that fate will continue for Holve. I hope he will live. Holve's been the reason I've gotten this far."
Ealrin fell silent after that, and the rest of the group didn't press him for more information at the moment.
Good, he thought.
He was drained from reliving everything and was glad for the moment's silence to think.
Wherever Ealrin went, destruction followed. What could he have done to prevent this? Was there anything he may have been able to do to save his friend? Though the scene played over and over again in his head, somet
imes without his permission, he couldn't think of anything.
Holve's life rested solely in the hands of those healers in Thoran and fate.
"You had said something about a demon wound?" Ealrin said out loud after a long time of hearing nothing but the sound of hooves and boots on the road. "What is a demon wound?"
"General Rayg is no mere man," replied a dwarf carrying a large mace over his shoulder. His red beard was braided elaborately and hung down almost to his knees. "He's a speaker of great skill, but also a charmer of demons and others from the nether."
The brown haired man spat.
"Ruyn will be a better land once it’s rid of his filth," he said with a tone of hatred and disgust.
"Aye," replied the dwarf. "But you'll soon learn that he can't be bested by any mere man. Most speakers you encounter get incredibly weak after they work their magic, as that little girl did," he said as he pointed a short finger towards Blume, who still lay peacefully asleep on the horse as they walked.
"Not Rayg. He's speaking the language of demons and shades. He channels their power somehow into his. He's evil in the flesh, he is," said the dwarf. Then he made a huffing sound and added, "Which ought to tell you how good Holve is for wounding him."
Several murmurs of assent went up from those who were traveling with them. Apparently these warriors held Holve in the highest regard.
Just like Ealrin.
***
The group alternated resting on the horses and walking so that they could reach the capital quickly. There was enough adrenaline rushing through them to make it through two days of constant walking, as long as they could rest on horseback.
Blume was the only one of them who was constantly riding. She was so drained from her two feats of speaking that she could hardly hold herself up on the horse, let alone walk. Ealrin was her constant companion. The rest of the company took it upon themselves to be their guards. There were always two bows with arrows drawn on them at all times as they continued their journey to Thoran, the capital city.
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