Mercenary War - Book 2

Chapter 5

         Ishain and Trint sat at a table on high alert. Their eyes scanned the tavern carefully, taking in every detail of the room. There was a long counter with a female bartender. They found out from eavesdropping on multiple conversations on their way to a table that she was the tavern owner’s daughter and was very single. They watched as she continuously denied attempts at romance from the men at the bar and, though she was beautiful with dark brown, almost raven hair, her freckled face had a fierce defiance in it. They learned her name was Cattren and they had every intention of trying to get information from her at some point during the night. Her long hair was braided over one shoulder and her stunning green eyes looked as though they could pierce through steel. While friendly, those eyes had a cold edge to them that proved she could handle herself regardless of the situation.

         Trint licked his lips and looked back down at the table. Ishain glanced at him and laughed. “You find her pretty, do you not?”

         Clearing his throat, the other man chuckled, guzzling the rest of his ale he had brought from the bar. “What? No. Well, I do, but we have a job to do.”

         Ishain leaned back in his chair and smirked. He had never really spent time with Trint. The man never spoke and as far as he was concerned, he was more of a ghost than a man. The hunter was silent and obeyed orders well, making independent decisions when necessary, but preferring to follow rather than lead. Ishain, while similar in that he did not speak a lot, was comfortable in whatever role was vacant at any point. Right now, he figured he was the leader. “Trint, how were you recruited?” He felt he needed to distract his hunting brother before the man melted into the floor.

         Surprised by the question, Trint looked up quickly. “I was at the king’s hall, taking a request from my father to Fallon. My father preferred that I stop working as a farmer and become a guard. He knew I practiced swordsmanship when I was alone and was convinced that I should not remain on the farm.” He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly as a young woman came up to take their food order. The hunters put in their requests along with a second round of ale and then the man returned to his explanation. “I was not fond of leaving my family alone to work outside the walls, but I also was not one to argue either. When I entered the throne room and knelt before them, Fallon asked me to stand before I had introduced myself. When I told him why I had come, he asked me to prove my skill in a duel. I did not even answer, I just nodded and he had me follow him to the training grounds. After a sparring session, he requested I join his group of mercenary hunters. To say I was in shock would be a gross understatement. I told him yes and then decided I made a mistake as I went home. However, I could not back out as I was only the second man he chose. I would have felt terrible.”

         A laugh broke from Ishain’s throat and he coughed on his ale. “Wait. Trint. You are still here only because you felt bad for asking to be overlooked?”

         The other man felt his face heat up in embarrassment. “Well, wouldn't you feel like a coward and feel guilty if the king was proud to have you as his second choice prize fighter and then you came back and said you did not want it anymore?”

         Ishain tilted his head slightly and chuckled again. “No. The gravity of this decision was not lost on me. Especially because I was the first man chosen.”

         Trint glared at him sullenly. “Alright, Sir Chosen One. How did he find you?”

         The man seemed not as excited to talk now. He ran his fingers through his hair and took another gulp of ale before speaking. “I broke the law.”

         Trint stared in shock. “You what? You’re a criminal?”

         “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds worse,” Ishain balked.

         The quieter man shook his head. “No. No it doesn’t. It sounds just as bad as how you said it.”

         His friend waved his hand. “Okay, okay. Yes. I was a criminal. However, It was not so bad. I was drunk.” Immediately, Trint rolled his eyes. “I saw that. Just listen. I was eating and drinking at old man Teyven’s ale house. Good man. I had maybe two too many drinks. I do not usually drink that much. My parents died a few years back and my brother had just moved out of Kezna with his new wife. So I found myself alone and went to the bar to forget things for the night. A man told me I was in his seat. I guess he was a regular. I told him to back off and that I would be done soon. He did not like that answer and told me to move over right then. So I punched him square in the face. Long story short, I dropped him in one hit and he did not wake up for two days. Teyven thought I killed him and had some passing night watch come in and get me. I was already upset and knocked out one of them and got away from the second one. By the time I started running, I was sobering up.”

         The other mumbled. “I bet you were, idiot.”

         With an annoyed grunt, Ishain continued. “By that time, I had caused a scene and the night watch came after me all together. I managed to scale half of the grinding mill before they roped me and pulled me down. Next thing I know they dragged me, quite literally to the courtyard where Fallon was waiting, very awake and fully armed. I had never been scared of anyone in my life. But I can guarantee you I think I soiled my pants when I saw him waiting for me. I ended up fighting the guards and escaped again, only to find myself face to face with him. I knew I was going to be executed so like a man with my pride and dignity intact, I fell on my face and begged like a dog.”

          His friend’s mouth hung open as he gaped in disbelief. “You are insane.”

         “I agree. However, in the end, Fallon crouched down, lifted my head, and asked me what I had done. I told him as honestly as I could. He asked me what led up to the brawl and I told him the entire story I just told you. Instead of executing me, he had a guard hand me a sword and told me to fight him. By the end, he humiliated me, but he still pulled me up from the ground and asked me to be his first hunter.”

         “Wow. So of course you said yes,” Trint said, completely appalled by the man’s lack of integrity and honor.

         “Absolutely not. I asked him what would happen if I said no. He explained that his dungeon was nearly empty. So I agreed.” Ishain’s expression had been somewhat whimsical the entire story, but suddenly turned grave. “He saved my life, Trint. Had he not shown me mercy that night. I would be rotting in a dank cell and my life would have been ruined. He gave me my life back. He made me promise that if I make it back, I will find a good woman and settle down. I can never repay him for not allowing my one bad decision to destroy my future. I did, of course, have to pay for the man’s doctor and buy the entire bar two rounds of drinks and clean the interrogation cell. I was also banned from going back to that ale house.”

         “So, let me get this straight. You soiled yourself in front of Fallon?” Trint asked, his laughter barely contained. He leaned back from the table as the food was brought and left.

         Ishain threw up his hands in aggravation. “Is that all you got from my story?”

         Shrugging, the man shoved a piece of food in his mouth. “Basically. You were a coward who was not willing to take responsibility for your own actions and he gave you a way out. And you soiled your pants. That is what I got from your story.”

         Ishain dropped his head into his hand and glared at the table. “Just eat. I’m done talking to you.”

         For the first time since he had joined the group, Trint let out a loud laugh. “Of course, Sir Chosen One.”

         The meal finished with some good humored jokes back and forth and a solid friendship formed. Trint glanced back up at the counter and swallowed hard. Ishain rolled his eyes and patted him on the back. “Don’t tell me you have never romanced a woman.”

         “That would entirely depend on your interpretation of the word romance,” he said stiffly.

         Ishain snickered. “No wonder you did not want to leave your farm. Come with me, we need to see if she has seen any information about our quarry here.”

         With a sigh, Trint walked with him to the bar, appearing significantly more bold than he felt. Ishain leaned on the bar top and raised a hand, calling the woman over.

         She stopped in front of the men and cocked her head. “What can I get you?”
         Trint nodded to his companion and Ishain lifted his other hand with a coin bearing the royal crest of Kezna on it. His voice was low, loud enough for only the three of them. “Information. Discreetly. I know you do not appreciate men fawning over you, but I also know you hear many things. Men talk when they have a woman to impress.”
         She lifted one eyebrow and took hold of the coin hesitantly. “And what if I refuse?” she asked, handing it back.

         “I would rather you did not,” he replied coolly. “Let me be clear. We mean you no harm, but that cannot be said about those we seek to learn about.”

         She held a breath momentarily before nodding. “Tell me what you need, sir, and I will find out what I can."
         This time Trint spoke. “If you hear or learn of anything concerning Harta or mercenaries, let us know in detail what was said. I would hope you do not need an explanation.”

         It was known everywhere that the king of Kezna was a former mercenary. “Is he here?” she asked, her eyes darting around.”

         Cattren nodded and mumbled. “Just play along.” Trint agreed and was subsequently slapped across the face. “I said no!” the woman hollered. “You can order more drinks or you can leave.” She pointed to the door.

         Trint stood in a daze before his anger began to sizzle. Ishain caught on and put a hand on his friend’s chest to hold him steady. “I apologize, Miss. He meant no disrespect. Just another ale for the both of us.”

         She threw her braid behind her shoulder and lifted her chin. “That’s more like it, sir.” The last word was said sarcastically. She walked away, head held high.

         Trint stared at the other man in frustration. “Sorry, Trint. She needed to cover for the serious conversation and you were the one who agreed first. Just be patient. If there is anything to be found out, I am confident she’ll do it for us.”

         A man from the opposite end of the counter called out. “You need me to take care of those scoundrels, Cat?”

         She turned and refilled his ale. “No, Vorn, I think he got the message. What would you do anyway? You aren’t a mercenary now, are you?”

         The man laughed. “Not me.”

         A moment later, she saw him nod his head ever so slightly toward a table in the back corner. A lone figure sat at a table watching. She faked a dazzling, and dangerous smile. “Honey, you know better than to invite trouble here. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. But if you buy me a drink, I’ll let the matter slide.”

         Men cheered. And he accepted the praise of being the only one that night who successfully was able to buy the woman a drink. She turned around to get herself a glassand had to focus on keeping her breathing steady. Her blood ran cold and she fought to keep her hands from trembling. She downed a small glass of ale in one shot and brought two glasses to Ishain and Trint. She lowered her voice. “Here you are, sirs. I am sure you are being watched. In the corner is who you are looking for.”

         Trint glanced without moving his head. The corner table was already empty. His stomach dropped. “Cattren, as soon as you can, close the bar and leave. Take your family and leave the village. You do not need to be caught up in our war. Please.”

         Something flickered across her features. Her eyes filled with a deep appreciation and her gaze softened momentarily before turning hard again as she turned to continue her job. “Go. I don’t want to see you again,” she said, glancing back. Her expression told Trint that she wished the very opposite. But there was no use. They finished their ale, went to their room and packed their few belongings before saddling up.

         Ventris called over the counter. “Is anyone even here?” There was no response. Iskale stood silently by, leaning against the wall, watching the elf’s annoyance build. “Of course we chose the one village with no sense of hospitality. Iskale, we can sleep in the stables or something. I’m tired of standing here.” They turned to walk out and just as they opened the door, three people crashed through.

         They stumbled over each other and the guests at the inn, apologizing profusely. One of them ran behind the counter. “I am sorry. Can I get you a room?”

         Cautiously, Ventris looked the three over before answering slowly. “Yes.” He hesitated. “And is there a place we can eat?”

         The person was clearly ruffled and upset. “Uh… yes. Yes sir. There is a tavern two buildings down. You can eat there. I would recommend eating quickly and turning in. We have rumors of some trouble makers. We will be closing the inn early and you will not be able to get in after we close.”

         Iskale stepped forward. “What kind of trouble? Are you alright?”

         The young man shrugged. “Oh yes. Just a band of thugs from what I heard. It is not uncommon in our villages where we have no set military or watchers patrolling. Do not worry. Just hurry back please.”

         Slowly, the men nodded and paid for their room before heading over to the tavern. The room was noisy when they opened the doors. Men and women called out and drink glasses clinked as men enjoyed their ale and cheered over won bets while others glowered and complained over lost ones. They found a table in the back and Ventris called over a serving boy. “Two glasses of ale and whatever the best menu items are, please.” The boy nodded hurriedly and made his way back to the kitchen. Iskale had trouble relaxing and Ventris looked around warily. After a few minutes, their drinks came and the elf looked over at his companion. “Iskale, What made you decide to stay with Fallon and the rest of us? No one would have blamed you if you left before this point.”

         The soldier raised an eyebrow. “Why would I? I was a soldier. My entire job was to do what I am doing. I never changed my profession. I merely traded one title for another based on my skills.”

         His response was so matter of fact that Ventris almost sighed. “So how did you catch Fallon’s attention?”

         The soldier shrugged. “I simply excelled at my post. I was a tracker as well as a top warrior. I assume I was recommended to Fallon because of that and he must have agreed. I have been a soldier since I was fifteen. It has been nine years and I would never back down from a request from him. I served under Orin after being drafted. It was miserable. Food rations were scarce, they forced us to serve by holding our families safety and even their lives against us if we chose to desert. I only found out after Orin was dispatched that my family had died long before the steward did. I still remember the day Fallon rode onto the field. I had been nearly killed, but the forest angels took out my attacker after I lowered my sword on the wall. The man next to me was also with me in his loyalty, but he was cut down immediately. I had waited for an opportunity to escape from Orin my whole life and I was determined to survive to see the outcome of that battle. When it was over and things had begun to settle down, I returned to the hall and swore my fealty to him. I could never walk away when he gave me my life back.” He thanked the boy for their food and took a bite. “What about you?”

         Ventris looked at him another moment, taken aback by the depth of his original answer. The man he thought was shallow and merely a puppet of whoever was in power was the survivor of a tyrannical ruler who had most likely murdered his family or at the least been the cause of their deaths, and then was willing to kill him off when the pressure rose against him. Of course he would be loyal. Letting out a breath, he answered. “I was decently young. Kole and I lived together. We grew up as best friends. We both dreamed of being soldiers or guards or something important under Fallon. Our families lived near the border to the south and so were the least impacted by Orin’s reign. When we were old enough, we moved into the city to build up our fighting skills and request any available position. I do not know how Fallon knew about me, but I was summoned to the hall one afternoon and given the invitation. I had never been more excited. I mistakenly let Kole know about the group of hunters and Fallon called him when I suggested he be considered. Initially he was rejected. But eventually we both were kept together. I assume my role was almost guaranteed because I am an elf, but that is merely speculation. I have never cared enough to ask.”

         Iskale thought for a moment while he chewed. Then he took a drink of ale and cleared his throat. “I heard Yuce was brought on from the military because he was a lead strategist. One of the best, I was told. And you have seen him fight. He was incredibly skilled.”

         The elf grunted in agreement. “What about Dane?”

         The soldier stopped eating and thought for a moment. “I think his father was a royal guard and he worked as a swordsmith under his brother’s guidance. I was friends with him only because I worked with his father and we were the same age. I would pick up weapons from him every week and we would talk a small bit. I never got to know him really well. I was surprised when I found out he had been requested to join. I guess working with swords that much would be too mundane if you never learned how to wield one.”

         Ventris nodded thoughtfully and continued eating. “We should hurry.”They ate the rest of their meal in near silence before leaving and heading back to the inn. But before they had even returned, a bright orange light lit up the edge of town and the sound of screaming reached their ears.

         Their eyes met and instantly, they broke into a run. As if they had held an entire silent conversation, they both jumped into action. Ventris ran to retrieve the horses from the stable while Iskale threw open the door to the inn and yelled for them to run. They had been found. It was time to go. They would head to the next town over and meet up with Fallon there. Ventris handed off Iskale’s horse to him as they both returned to the street. In great haste, they mounted and took off, their steeds’ hooves thundering amid the sounds of despair and agony all around them. They past the last building when a group of mercenaries came in from out of the darkness. It was as if they materialized out of the night itself. Before they had time to react, Iskale’s mount was shot out from under him. He was launched forward, hitting the ground and rolling to his feet in a moment. Ventris turned his horse around and rode past his companion, lifting him into the saddle urging his horse on faster. The enemy caught up fast. The two men fought on horseback before Ventris’ horse was also killed. The two men crashed into the dirt. Their groans and grunts barely audible as they rolled back up to a stand back to back. To say they were outnumbered would have been unfair. It was clear this would be a losing battle, but they were determined to take down as many of the enemy as possible until some sort of back up arrived. Narrowing his eyes, Iskale swung his blade around in a practiced circle before rushing forward, while Ventris vanished from sight.

         Fallon walked through the dirt paths of the village. It took him almost no time at all to reach the western boundary of the settlement. He stared off into the night, a cool breeze blowing over the skin on his face and hands. His hair blew across his eyes and he shook his head to clear his line of sight. Stars blinked an infinite distance above him in the blueish black expanse and the sounds of night were like a quiet symphony. He could hear an owl nearby and the faint sound of wolves in the distance. Crickets kept time with one another and fireflies darted here and there around him while bats flew through the air further off, making black streaks across the nearly full moon. Something bothered him this night. It was not the fight between his men, though that was extremely annoying. There was something else entirely. Maybe it was what he said to Kole. Had he really become that much like Hannon that he would force submission? The regret and dread he felt when the words were said had only grown. But no. While that plagued him immensely, this feeling of unease was different. It was as if something was being whispered into his very soul that he could not figure out. It was as if the warning was some other language or even no language at all, like a feeling that he could not put into words. It made him extremely uneasy and on edge. The sooner this entire ordeal was over, the better for everyone.

         It was then that he saw a light in the distance. It was gone an instant later, but he knew his eyes were not mistaken. He placed a hand on the handle of his blade and stood as still as stone. He saw it again, metal reflecting the light of the moon. Then he saw the rider. His eyes narrowed to focus. The rider was panicked, absolutely terror stricken. He was a messenger, more than likely an emergency rider. Fallon’s stomach plummeted and he knew without a doubt that the mercenaries had come for them. This village had not been attacked, but wherever this rider had come from probably had been. The few locations with cluster villages had riders who were designated to alert the nearby settlements to any emergencies that might endanger all of them. It was an unspoken accord between those who lived in close proximity regardless of whether they held any other contact with one another. The former mercenary ran and met the rider as he entered the village and thundered to the center of town, yelling his warning. It was indeed a mercenary attack. Within moments, Kole and Raffine broke through the door, quite literally, and sprinted toward Fallon. They had disobeyed, but what could he do? He knew them well enough to know that they would never simply abandon him if he did not return. When they heard the rider, they probably knew he would be nearby. He met them and turned them back to retrieve their mounts. The villagers were in a frenzy, everything was chaos, men ran door to door to evacuate families and elderly. The three mercenary hunters swung into their saddles and thundered out of the panic in the direction the horseman had come. The men rode low over their steeds necks, pushing the beast to their limit, two hours would be too long to reach the next boundary before the destruction was complete.

         A faint glow had begun lighting the horizon and they realized it was fire. They would be too late to even lend assistance to their own men. This was a mistake, Fallon thought. We never should have separated like this. Soon people came riding and running, screaming and sobbing, blood covering some of their faces and clothing. It was obvious from a mere glance that the blood was not theirs. They wore the blood of those they had loved or tried to protect. The men could only assume that in their determination to find the king’s men, the mercenaries had compromised on a partial annihilation of the people in these parts.

         “Sir!” Kole’s voice was loud next to the former mercenary as they rode. Fallon scanned the horizon, squinting to not miss anything. Despite also being a half-breed, he knew his eyes were not nearly as good as his companion’s. Then he saw it. A battle had ensued. It had ended and there would be an execution. As they neared, they saw bodies strewn. About ten mercenaries lay dead. The fight had taken up a lot of ground, but had ended headed back towards the village. He saw Ventris and Iskale, a man Fallon only really knew by his loyalty and lack of words. He was a good man, loyal almost to a fault. He never spoke unless spoken to, content to follow orders and do whatever he could in service to his king. He had been highly praised by Raffine. They were both military men and Raffine had seen him in action in the army before Fallon had taken the throne. Though they were two of the youngest soldiers at the time, they had held their own and were highly intelligent and extremely reliable. Though the king had spoken to Iskale maybe a dozen times since they met, he took a liking to him immediately. Now he stood, stone faced and immovable to the end, surrounded by his enemy. There were still five men surrounding the two swordsmen. Ventris had his double blades drawn and Iskale had his large, curved scimitar. It was a unique weapon that very few men were known to carry, but he had explained it had been passed down by his family and he would use nothing else. Something was wrong with this situation. Fallon and Kole noticed it almost simultaneously. Two of the remaining five mercenaries were elves. Kole cursed beside him as they reigned in their horses. He spoke to Fallon, never taking his eyes off of the scene. “They are offering the lives of the villagers, just as you had anticipated.”

         Fallon’s throat went dry and something like a boulder settled in his chest. He knew as if by instinct that Iskale could not bring himself to risk innocent people in order to save himself. Ventris might take a calculated risk, but never Iskale. He was moral through and through. It was one thing that caused him to be held in such high esteem in both the military and in Fallon’s guard. He was laser focused on what he was meant to do. And to him, saving as many people as possible was their goal. Fallon dismounted and motioned for his two companions to do the same. Raffine barely breathed beside them, but you could see the sweat nearly pouring down his face. It was obvious that he knew exactly what was about to happen to Iskale and Ventris and that there was little to nothing they could do to stop it.

         Silently, the men crept through the long grass toward the trees that would allow them a close enough hiding place where they could take their adversary by surprise. If there were not multiple elves present, they may have used much less caution in all the commotion. A split second later, and things had escalated. Ventris had attacked the men. He killed one and then the other, leaving only the elves and their commander. He had become invisible and was impossible to track in the unsteady and dull firelight in the distance. However, the presence of the elven mercenaries cut his victory short of success. One of them had taken hold of Iskale as he agreed to give his own life for that of some villagers who were bound a short distance from them. Ventris hesitated a moment too long and was struck in the head and thrown nearly five yards away to the edge of the trees, blood seeping from a wound on his head and multiple on his chest. Fallon could hear the sound of Kole grinding his teeth beside him and steadied him with a hand on his arm. He silently shook his head, seeing the crazed impulse Kole had to rush forward and confront the ones who may have killed his best friend. They continued their slow progression. When they reached the trees, they saw one of the elves check Ventris and nod. It took everything the half-breed had to stay with his lord and not seek immediate revenge. He cloaked himself from sight and moved further ahead cautiously to check his friend himself, unable to believe him dead. He was, in fact, correct. His breathing was shallow, and he had little time left, but he was still alive. Breathing an inaudible sigh of relief, he backed into the woods again. He reappeared next to Fallon and looked at him, curious about what their plan was.

         Quickly, Fallon told them to stay where they were and he would go out. Only if he was killed were they to make any move. Kole was his secret weapon and the only one other than he or Ventris who could make this vendetta succeed. Silently, Fallon made his way out of the trees, hovered low in the grass, waiting for an opportunity. There was the leader of the group, the elf holding Iskale and… His blood ran cold. The other elf was nowhere in sight.

         He sensed it a moment too late. He pulled out his blade and spun, clashing blades with the second elf who had sneaked, invisibly, behind him. His mistake cost him too much. He was off balance and sidestepped in an attempt to regain it. But this elf was much, much stronger than him. Four inches taller and twice his weight in hard muscle, Fallon knew he was severely outmatched. The elf forced him to his knees, his blade bearing down on the king’s own. The elf disarmed him and grabbed him by the throat, throwing him into the dirt a yard away. When Fallon coughed and made an effort to rise, he was kicked in the gut. He heard Iskale’s strained voice. “Fallon! No!”

         Kole began to pull out his blade, but Raffine pulled him back. “He told us to stay. Even if he is our king, we obey him and do not get involved. We are vital to the success of his venture. Do not destroy the only chance we may have by getting yourself knocked out like Ventris did, or worse.” Kole hated to agree, but he nodded grudgingly and crouched further down.

         The leader of the group spoke now. “Fallon, Fallon, Fallon.” His tone reminded the former mercenary of Hannon and he fought to get free. The elf holding Iskale impaled his captive and moved to help hold the king in place, landing a fist in his face to help control him. Iskale fell to his knees, clutching his mid-section and gasping. The man in charge walked over to the villagers tied and gagged a ways away and struck flint to light their ropes ablaze. The people shrieked and Iskale let out a desperate scream of his own.

         He gritted his teeth against his pain and glared up at the mercenary above him. “You said… you would… let them go if I… gave… myself over.” He gasped out the words, blood beginning to gather at the corners of his mouth and dribble down.

         A laugh sounded, so cold and emotionless that it made the soldier sick. “It’s really a shame that you believed me. I feel you would have been a good challenge for me had you actually tried to continue fighting your way out. I may have killed you quickly. But you were so innocent. So naive. And this is the price.”

         The smell of burning flesh and the blood chilling cries from the victims on fire made bile rise in Iskale’s throat. He began to rise, lifting his sword once more. But he was too weak and it showed. The mercenary knocked his sword out of his hand and the guard fell to his knees once more. Fallon fought against his captors in vain, trying to make it to his man. He watched helplessly as his prey bound Iskale’s hands and feet before taking out a short blade. Acting in icy, soulless evil, the mercenary proceeded to strip the skin off of the man as he remained alive, fileting him as one would a fish.

         The king screamed in utter despair and rage, pulling until he escaped the men holding him. Yet before he could take a second step, he was hit between the shoulder blades and dropped to the ground, a gasp of pain escaping his lips. Roughly, he was hauled back to his feet, his hair pulled back in the hand of one of the elves, keeping his face pointing at the horrific scene before him. Pain was pulsing through his back and shoulders in exploding waves.

         In the cover of the trees Kole and Raffine crouched in complete horror as they also watched. If they tried to intervene, Fallon would be killed in an instant. They could not risk a confrontation. The nightmare inducing wails and screeches that filled the air left the men in a waking coma of helpless rage.

         When it was finished, Fallon faced the mercenary. His focus was no longer on escaping the elves who held him, but on the man who had butchered and fileted his soldier right in front of him. The mercenaries held his arms behind his back, his hair still tangled in the fist of the larger elf. They had taken no chances. One misstep had placed the older man in their grasp. Kole slowly stood, like a shadow, calculating the risk of an attack. His lord glanced at him, his eyes filled with a white hot fury. By some unrecognizable instinct, Kole backed away, pulling Raffine with him. What came next would be forever seared in their memories and nightmares even beyond what they had already witnessed.

         Fallon watched as Kole and Raffine retreated and then closed his eyes. The leader walked toward him casually, unafraid. When the king opened his eyes again, blood red orbs looked back at his enemy. This time not only his irises were red. The whites of his eyes were horrifying as they seemed to swirl with the color of death. Only his pupils remained unchanged. He locked eyes with his adversary, and for a moment the man looked as if he may have made a grave mistake. Seconds later, he knew definitively that he had.

         The sound of snapping filled the air, followed by shrieks of agony. Blood began pouring from open wounds where the white of broken bones protruded from all three men’s bodies. Ribs cracked, legs and arms snapped, and finally, when despair and pain were more than the men could bear, their spines curved slowly. One disc at a time, came apart until all three fell dead in their own blood on the ground. It was over in mere seconds.

         Fallon dropped to his knees, his eyes returning to their former color. Then, he fell on his side, moaning and crying out in extreme pain. The toll taken on him for using his blessing to end the life of others was debilitating. His sight was blurred and everything in him burned. Fallon screamed in agony as if his own body was coming apart. He writhed in indescribable anguish until his vision went black and his body limp.

         Dane spoke to a palace guard, concern etched on his face, brows furrowed. After a whispered conversation, he nodded and turned to Gammir and the queen. “Your majesty, there have been reports of a suspicious person outside the walls.”

         She raised an eyebrow. “Suspicious how, Dane?”

         He stepped closer, dropping his voice slightly. “Those on the walls think he is a mercenary. He has been wandering around the walls for a few days. He has not tried to enter, but has been skirting the city each day and night. They think he may be scouting for others.” He looked around quickly before continuing. “We have to assume that someone may have breached the city and will be coming for you. I wish we could be confident that he has not figured out how to enter, but I am not. I would rather assume that he is a decoy, a distraction to keep us focused outside the walls while someone else or many others make their way to you.”

         Gammir considered the guard’s words for a moment silently. “It may be unwise to take the queen to the hidden chamber. Not that it would not protect her, but taking her outside the palace wall, even for a moment, may put her in harm’s way.”

         Calya nodded, looking down at the cooing child in her arms. “I agree.”

         Dane stood, his expression one of intense focus. He had to decide the safest place to keep the queen and her child. Ever since the attack on the city, Calya had begun sparring with Dane, refreshing her swordsmanship skills and hand to hand combat skills. Raimor had sent one of his best watchers to come oversee Calya’s archery skills. They returned saying that she needed no guidance and seemed to have learned from one of them. Raimor knew exactly who she had learned from. Her bow and quiver told him everything. His daughter had trained the queen and given her equipment.

         A plan was forming in the queen's mind as she stood with her son and her two guards. “Gammir, I need you to choose one maid to stay with you and Trayzer at all times. She is to feed him and clothe him and do everything. I leave the prince in your very capable hands.” She turned to Fallon’s guard. “Dane, come with me to the armory. I need my weapons. I will not stand idly by like a helpless victim when I can defend myself. I was also trained by Fallon, and I will fight like him as well.”

         Gammir nodded, took the child, and went to choose a maid. The girl’s name was Arenn. She was fourteen years old and had come to the great hall after her family lost their farms in the attack. Her brother had been killed and both of her parents had been crippled. Calya had hired her to help her support her family. She was a sweet girl and, though she kept her distance, she loved the little prince. She looked younger than she was, and her more full figure made her seem more of a child than her age. She was caring and kind and would be the perfect nanny for the baby until this entire situation was resolved.

         He found Arenn helping another maid fold laundry. It was not her normal task, but it was common to find her helping other maids if she had finished her assignments for the day. Gammir beckoned her over. With a smile, she hastened to him, cooing at the baby before looking into the older man’s eyes. Her smile faded when she saw his expression and she looked around hesitantly. She was not one to be pessimistic and she was not insecure about whether she did her job well. Because of this she assumed something had happened elsewhere.

         “What is wrong, Pa?”

         Pa. It was an enduring term he had been given by her. He was a second father to her and she adored him. She would never call him father, but Pa was acceptable in order to keep her father above everyone else. “My dear, Arenn, I need you to stay with me and keep absolutely silent about what I tell you next.” The girl nodded and followed him to a more private area. “We are convinced there has been at least one mercenary that has managed to breach the city defenses and will come for her highness. I have been instructed to take you with me at all times and give you full responsibility to care for the prince while the queen works with Dane to resolve the situation. This is not an option. And I apologize for you having no choice in the matter. I trust you with the boy more than anyone else I know here.”

         Her features hardened ever so slightly, her eyes determined. “Of course. I will do whatever is needed of me. I will watch over the prince with my life should it be necessary.” Her red curls spilled over her shoulders as she took the little boy and cradled him, looking down at his smiling face. He loved her possibly as much as she loved him. She tickled him and giggled along as his squeals echoed.

         Calya made the decision to dispose of the mercenary at the walls. After careful consideration, she had one of the archers on the walls kill him. It would be a signal that she was not afraid and that she was ready to face the undeniable consequences of her confrontation. If her husband was suffering to end these monsters, unafraid of the resulting consequence for himself, then she would stand against them as well. He was afraid for her, yes, but she was not afraid for herself. She had a child and unlike her mother, was not the docile, innocent, timid queen that she had been. She would fight for her throne, her son, and her husband, wherever he may be, regardless of the outcome. Fallon may think he was not what Kezna needed as a king, but what he failed to realize is that he created a guard, an atmosphere, and a queen that would not fall so easily and that could not be overtaken with an act of betrayal within the ranks. Calya had no fear of executing someone, nor did she assume that she could trust any more than a handful of people. She would not make the mistake her parents did and she would not give in to despair, whether her husband returned to her or not.

         Dane watched as the queen checked her old throwing knives and sharpened those that required the attention. She sheathed her sword, and tightened her chainmail covered gauntlets on her hands and forearms. The woman no longer wore her royal gown, but a tunic and breeches with knee high leather boots with steel on the soles and toes. He marveled at how prepared she was and how much like the enemy she was beginning to appear. Calya looked like an assassin instead of royalty. She had taken aspects of Fallon’s wardrobe and had them made after the attack on the city. The woman was more than determined to stand her ground. If her husband was not there to save her, she would save herself. “Milady, are you ready to find a mercenary?”

         The dazzling smile that met him caught him off guard. “Why would we go find him when I can easily bring him to us?” Pulling a dark cloak close around herself to hide her features, she told him her full plan.

         Fallon’s body felt light, but broken. He did not dream, but instead, he felt an overwhelming sense of despair and desperation. Time was irrelevant as he floated in the darkness of his subconscious. He had felt as if he was waking many times since he lost consciousness, his will never quite enough to force himself from his dark slumber.

         A voice sounded in his head, distant and muffled. He kept hearing his name being spoken. Slowly, begrudgingly, he came back to reality. He had given up on waking up, almost content to simply let go and fade out of existence. Kole sat over him in the cover of the trees while Raffine kept watch. They had disposed of the bodies after their king had lost consciousness. Fallon’s eyes fluttered open to see his closest companion looking down at him. Excitement mixed with concern overtook the half-breed’s rugged features as he called out, “Raffine! He’s awake!”

         The other guard ran over, dropping to his knees next to his lord. “We thought we’d have to finish this without you, sir.”

         Fallon started to push himself into a sitting position as he responded. “Nonsense, my friend.” Grimacing, he dropped back down, gritting his teeth and groaning as searing pain wracked his entire body. “It is still night. Do not be dramatic.”

         Kole swallowed and took a deep breath. “My lord, you have been unconscious for three whole days. We were just discussing bringing you back to Tant before continuing on our own.”

         Raffine put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened, Fallon?”

         “I nearly killed myself is what happened.” He winced as Kole assisted him getting to a sitting position. “I’m sure you have noticed the royal family does not bring people back from the dead.”

         The men shook their heads. “I’ve never really thought about it,” answered Kole. “What are you talking about?”

         “The royal family does not bring back the dead because the amount of energy and life one pours into another being or takes from them is taken from the healer as well. The healer would trade their life for the life of the person they would revive. To summarize, I felt every bone I broke in those men. I assume my elven heritage, and the level of pure adrenaline is what kept me from dying.” Kole looked at him pensive and anxious. There was something else bothering him as well. “Tell me what you are thinking, Kole.”

         “Ventris is alive, but hardly. I do not think he will survive till morning. How he lived this long is anyone’s guess. We did what we could, but I…” His voice faltered and broke. “Would it be possible for you at all to save him?” He sounded pained by his own request and angry at himself for even daring to ask it. “I know it is not right to ask, but there is nothing else I can do.”

         Fallon nodded and gestured for him to bring them nearer to each other. “I cannot guarantee the effect on myself, but I can save his life.” He looked over the wounds caked with dried blood as Ventris was dragged closer to him. His wounds were not large. They were, however, very well placed to inflict maximum lethal damage. Taking a deep breath, Fallon closed his eyes, placing his hand on Ventris’ chest. It seemed like an eternity that the three men sat there, barely daring to breathe. And then Ventris gasped, gulping in air like he was drinking water. Kole let out a yelp of joy and embraced his friend as he suddenly sat up.

         Raffine broke the merriment a moment later. “Kole, he’s unconscious again. We will have to get him help as soon as we can. We are done here. We need to leave now.” Then he turned to the elf. “If you can ride, we need to go as fast as possible to Tant. Their healer is the only one who can help us. He told us to go there if anything happened, so we must head there now.”

         Without any sign of agreement, they all seemed to move as one, lifting their king and bringing him back to the horses. He was tied down while Kole mounted up behind him. The other two men mounted the other steeds as well and headed toward Tant. They angled toward the furthest village nearby to hopefully find any other soldiers who had survived the attack.

         They were relieved when Ishain and Trint came riding to meet them through the rubble of the burned settlement. They had only come this far because they had been held up protecting the other people from the other villages. When they saw Iskale missing, they lowered their heads, all of them saddened by what had happened. The plan and destination was discussed and the newly arrived companions briefed on what had obviously happened, and then the group took off southeast, toward Kikarii’s domain.