CHILD OF DESTINY (The Rising Saga Book 1)

by M. K. Adams

  Turiel loosed the longbow that he had slung over his shoulder for the crawl towards their enemy. Its weight felt unnatural in his hands, he’d always preferred a sword, but accuracy wasn’t an issue for this particular mission. They just had to make a nuisance of themselves. Turiel glanced at the men and women around him, six in total, and sent a silent prayer to whichever God might be listening that they all made it back to the tree line without being felled.

  Then he saw it, the first flamed arrow flying high into the sky and toward the enemy camp. Turiel threw a hand up in the air and he and his six knocked arrows of their own and in tandem released them towards the enemy.

  Kwah’s flaming arrow landed plum through the fabric of a tent, sending out a muffled scream as it hit the mark within. Turiel knew that the others wouldn’t be so lucky, but regardless he watched in pleasure as the rest of the arrows flew high into the sky and cascaded down onto the enemy camp.

  Shouts of alarm rang out from within the camp as bodies began to scramble out of the tents and into the open.

  “Move!” Turiel shouted after his group had loosed their second arrows into the night’s sky. They had opportunity for two more maximum, he knew, before the enemy would be organised enough to start their retaliation and a battle of archery against some of the finest archers in the land was not one he wished to be a part of for long.

  Relocating to a position closer to the tree line, Turiel knocked his third arrow and let it fly. This time, he had aimed directly for one of the patrolmen who had ran towards the camp’s edge to try and pinpoint the source of the attacks. Turiel’s arrow flew through the air and cut directly into the man’s armour. The impact wasn’t enough to kill, nor was the positioning as the arrow lodged itself into the man’s shoulder, but it was enough to have him down momentarily and that gave them enough time to fire off their fourth and final volley.

  The enemy camp, being attacked from two sides, lurched into a fully frenzy. Shifting shadows of soldiers reaching for their weapons behind the flaming torches signalled that it was time to flee. Turiel’s thoughts were confirmed when he spied the feint outlines of figures running towards the woods. Kwah, he thought to himself as he watched the figures dart through the field. It’s time to move.

  “Run! Now!” Turiel shouted as he and his six turned their backs from the enemy camp and made a straight line for the cover of the trees.

  A smart commander would react to such a hit and run attack by doubling the guard and doing all that he could to make sure that it didn’t happen again, Kwah had told them all. But the manner in which this assault from the king had been approached, the small number of men sent and the fact they felt confident enough to set up camp for the night outside the location they knew their enemy waited signalled overconfidence and inexperience. Kwah had been hoping that those traits would win out the day and that instead of doubling down at their camp, the king’s commander would instead give chase.

  The sound of whistling filled the air, and moments later the whistling was followed by an echo of thuds as one arrow after another penetrated the ground around them as they ran. A yell came from Turiel’s left, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched as a Hemeti was brought down, an arrow protruding through his chest.

  No time to stop, Turiel told himself as he urged his legs to run as fast as they could back to safety.

  Turiel didn’t dare turn back to see if Kwah’s theory had been correct about the enemy, but it didn’t take long for the answer to present itself. Turiel and his remaining five reached the tree line without further loss of life, and he finally risked a glance behind him. Sure enough, as Kwah had hoped, the enemy were forming up and making their way across the field that would lead them directly into the woods.

  “Goddess’ fortune,” Turiel whispered to himself as he beheld the enemy. Despite the early hour of the morning, their formation was tight, as though it was the middle of the day and they had been prepared for this fight all along.

  Damn it, Turiel thought. Hoping that their attack had done enough to rattle them regardless.

  “Turiel! Come!” Kwah shouted through the trees. The islander was stood about ten metres behind him. Turiel realised then that he was the only one left standing at the edge of the trees, staring out at the enemy as the rest of his troop had followed the plan and made their way back to a defensive line further in the woods.

  Avoiding areas that were marked with white X’s the pair made their way through the trees before finally arriving at the pre-planned defensive line. There they were, the rest of the camp, spread out in two defensive walls through the woods. This was where they were going to make their stand against the enemy. Shri’ook and Tublik stood waiting for them.

  “Did everything go according to plan?” Shri’ook asked.

  “Think we riled them up good,” Turiel replied, “but I lost Gindrak.”

  The Hemeti had been with The Spring for a long time. Turiel struggled with the loss, and just hoped that maybe he had somehow survived and that they could rescue him in the morning.

  “We mourn our dead tomorrow,” Shri’ook insisted. “Come, to our positions, and may the Goddess’ fortune bless you all.”

  Kwah and Turiel took their place at what they hoped would the centre of the fighting, directly in line from where the enemy would be heading. Whilst Shri’ook and Tublik each took a wing of the defensive lines.

  “See you on the other side my friend,” Kwah said as the two stared out from the wall of men and women stood alongside them at the approaching enemy who had just breached the tree line.

  “See you on the other side,” Turiel replied as the first of the King’s soldiers fell victim to one of the pitfalls. That was their signal.

  “Charge!” Kwah shouted as man and woman alike along the first line of the defensive wall rushed toward the enemy. At the same time, the second wall pulled up long bows that had been nestled at their feet and in unison sent a volley into the sky and then a second. Each landing mere moments before Turiel and the first line reached the enemy.

  Not many of the arrows hit their mark, but that was to be expected among the grouping of trees and the limited light that poured into the woods from thin veins of moonlight that broke through the leafy canopy above. It did enough to disrupt the movement of the enemy, and the first line of the defensive wall was nearly upon them.

  The plan is working, Turiel thought as he charged toward the enemy and saw two more groups of men fall victims to hidden traps in the ground.

  If they could keep them penned in to these first few tens of yards worth of woodland, where pitfalls had been constructed in earnest, then they might have enough of advantage to hold out for a victory.

  At last Turiel was upon the enemy. They were fully armed and staring him down, bracing for the impact he and the rest would make when they hit their lines. Turiel took in a deep breath, and threw himself into the fight. His sword arm swung freely as he fought not to push deeper into the enemy ranks, but to hold them where they stood. If all went to plan then they would be able to hold them long enough for the second line of Spring soldiers to be able to make their way around to the sides and catch the enemy in a pincer.

  Turiel faced down the mystery opponents. Two armed soldiers were stood in his way, and his blood began furiously beating through his body.

  Fight, he told himself and he did.

  No longer could he see the battle raging on around him, instead the only people left in the world were himself and these two men who wanted so badly to kill him. Odds he fancied. The first lunged for him, sword in hand but unsteady on the sodden woodland floor. His blow was easy to dodge, and using the weight of the man’s armour Turiel let him fall forward before sticking a leg out and tripping the man.

  The second wasn’t so clumsy and his strike was measured. Turiel met each attack with a parry, but seeing the man he had tripped attempting to regain his footing he knew he was running out of time. Another strike, another parry, each easier than the last, the man’s cumb
ersome armour was tiring him quickly. The next attack came slower than the others and Turiel decided to put him on the back foot.

  He pressed the attacker. After parrying a shot across his shoulder he feigned right with a strike of his own, only at the last second to pull out of the attack and thrust the hilt of his sword up into the cheek of his opponent. Discombobulating him and leaving his chest vulnerable as he staggered backwards. Turiel took advantage and plunged the tip of his sword through the weak part of the man’s armour beneath the shoulder, ripping his arm completely from his body. The man was finished.

  Turiel turned back to the first, his sword covered with the red blood of his victim. The adrenaline surged through his veins like he’d never felt before. The other attacker didn’t last long either. Turiel danced around the slower man, using the weight of his armour and the muddy ground to his advantage, before finding an opening round the man’s back and stabbing his sword deep into the steel plating. The man gurgled as blood came pouring from his mouth. A sight that Turiel believed would have made him throw up in any other situation, but there was no time for that right now.

  Turiel looked for his next opponent. The battlefield was chaotic once he opened his gaze up long enough to take it all in. All throughout the wood there were soldiers fighting. The defensive lines had broken down and he wasn’t sure if there was any semblance of order left. Then it dawned on him what that meant. He looked across to where Shri’ook’s wing of fighters had been; it had completely collapsed. The enemy had broken through and were rounding on the rest of their men, cutting off any chance of a pincer against that side. He spotted Kwah a few metres away, his gambeson was covered in blood and there was a visible tear through the sleeve on his right arm. But it was the look on Kwah’s face that worried him the most.

  They were losing the battle.

  Chapter 33

  “Fall back!” Kwah commanded as he swung his sword at an oncoming attacker. The tactic had failed, and if they stayed where they were then they weren’t going to see the light of another day.

  The ground around them was littered with bodies from both sides of the fighting, and the trees had been stained red with blood. This is madness, Turiel thought as he swung his blade in defence of an overhead shot from an onrushing soldier whose eyes had turned red with frenzy.

  Turiel was on the backfoot. He couldn’t turn and flee or his attacker would strike a killer blow, but he couldn’t stick around for too long or he’d be left alone whilst everyone else made for the palisades and barricades. The attacker pressed and Turiel’s feet began to give way beneath him as he back peddled as fast as they would allow, swinging his sword wildly from left to right as he tried to hold off the attacks.

  I can’t do this, Turiel panicked.

  The enraged attacker swung up high, ready to bring his sword down in a killing blow, but the attack never came. A sword drove into the man’s side, piercing his rib cage and sending him careening into the floor, lifeless.

  “Come Turiel, we must go,” Kwah said, wiping his blade against his gambeson.

  Turiel wanted to say thank you for saving his life, but there was no time. Instead, the pair turned and ran as fast as their boots would carry them. Turiel couldn’t make out how many men had fallen, but he didn’t think the odds had become any better for them. Fortunately, however, seeing the left wing collapse so quickly the second defensive wall had stayed their hand. Rather than rushing into battle for the sake of it, they had held their ground and formed up around the defensive structures, calling for the remaining two sections of soldiers to fall back onto their position.

  The defensive wall held its ground as Turiel and the others fell back into safety, before reforming and aiding their friends at the barricades. Turiel looked around him; he tried counting as quickly as he could but the chaos made it impossible to tell how many remained of the first line of people who had charged the enemy ranks. Tublik was fighting on the right, Kwah had taken the centre again, but there was no sign of Shri’ook anywhere. Turiel pushed it to the back of his mind, but feared that the old islander had fallen with his wing.

  The enemy pushed on their position, but they too had taken significant losses. The traps had done their job, and the barricades could hold for a short while longer, but regardless it looked like their numbers would be too much as they swarmed like locusts over the wooden structures.

  I have to do something about this, he thought as he watched the king’s soldiers push against the fortifications and his friends fall.

  “Kwah!” Turiel called out.

  “What?” Came the reply as Kwah tried to divert his attention from the front line of the defence long enough to converse.

  “I need you to buy me time. I’m going to try and even things up.”

  Kwah didn’t need telling twice. Despite having no idea what the plan was, Kwah fought harder than he had done at any point in the night so far, and his efforts encouraged those around him to do the same.

  Turiel himself wasn’t entirely sure what he was planning to do either. There were only a handful of spells among Rachel Goldheart’s notes which could deal significant damage, and even fewer which could do so on a scale large enough that it could be useful now. But there was one he knew of, she had simply called it “Ruin.”

  Turiel took a step back from the fighting. The Spring were doing a good job of holding the enemy at bay now that they had the defensive barricades helping, but he knew that wouldn’t last long. The king’s soldiers were too well disciplined, too skilled with their blades. So, he reached out his palms and let the magical energy drift through his body.

  He closed his eyes and let the energy worm its way through his arms and down towards his fingertips. With his eyes closed, he could feel the energy of every living being in the battle, he could see as they danced around one another in a game of life and death. He drew on the energy around him and focused his mind on the ones whom opposed him.

  He tried to reach out to as many of the enemy as he could, drawing out from his location and spreading into their ranks… and then he was stopped. Not by a lack of power or concentration, but by…someone. He opened his eyes and surveyed the battlefield until he found them. Stood to his left and at the back of the enemy force, a man dressed in a hooded black cloak and with his arms outstretched similarly to himself. Another warlock. Turiel didn’t have time to react; his grasp over the energy was slipping away with every second. So he ignited the spell.

  • • •

  They had never intended to leave their friends behind. Jocelyn had never intended to leave Turiel behind. She couldn’t abandon her role of protecting Lyvanne either, but she had been sure that the young girl would not complain once she explained her real plan. Now, the two sat on the outskirts of the woods to the south waiting for a sign that they might be needed.

  “Are they going to be alright?” Lyvanne had asked when the sound of fighting from within the woods woke them up.

  Jocelyn had told her that they would be, but she knew that the answer was far from simple. The clatter of steel on steel and the cries of anguish filled the night, creating a horrible clamour that rose through the cool air.

  Then it came. A bang that ripped through the night sky and a flash of light that momentarily illuminated the woods in their entirety. Heat radiated from within the woods and a shockwave blew Jocelyn’s hair from off her shoulders.

  “What was that?!” Lyvanne shouted, before immediately holding her hands up to her mouth. Jocelyn had warned her that if they were going to stay here they had to stay quiet. If they were found, they would have thrown everything away.

  Jocelyn knew immediately what it was, but she’d never felt it on this scale before.

  “Turiel needs me,” she said, grabbing her swords from the small fabric floor that they had laid out under the shelter of a wayward oak tree beyond the edge of the woods. “Lyvanne, I need you to stay here. If I don’t come back by sunrise then you have to leave, okay?”

  “You can’t leave me,
” she argued, “You said we’d help them together.”

  “You can help them by keeping yourself safe. This is all to protect you.”

  Jocelyn didn’t wait to hear a reply; instead, she grabbed her stuff and darted into the woods, leaving Lyvanne behind. She felt guilty, she knew that she was being irresponsible, but Turiel needed her and right now nothing else mattered.

  The clatter of fighting had died down briefly following the explosion of light and sound, but it didn’t take long before it filled the air again. Only this time it was more sporadic, less clumped in one direction. Jocelyn soon saw why. Her first sign of conflict was the small fires that had caught ablaze throughout their old camp. There were trees and huts alike caught by the red flowers, with the smoke rising through the canopy and up into the sky. Horses whinnied and scattered into the woods. Soldiers had broken off from any kind of formation and the few who were left found themselves fighting singular battles in every direction she could see.

  Where is he? Jocelyn asked as she bounded through the burning camp and out of the other side where the fighting continued.

  Seeing a Hemeti caused a number of the king’s remaining soldiers to lunge at her as she passed, but she didn’t have time to stop and fight back. She had to leave that to the others. Her entire focus was now aimed towards finding Turiel.

  • • •

  Turiel lay on the ground, embers falling around his face and onto the woodland floor. His ears rang and a constant pain buzzed through his head.

  He looked around. The spell had worked, but the impact had been more devastating than he thought it would be. An explosion of magical energy had cascaded from his fingers, aimed firstly at the people whom he had targeted, but the king’s warlock had intercepted and before too many of the enemy had fallen his blast had been redirected back into their camp.