Mercenary War - Book 2

Chapter 7

         Kole stalked through the swirling clouds in the marsh like a wraith. Revilers came close and he dispatched them instantly. His fury burned hot and fresh. He would find Hasin and make him suffer before killing him. An hour passed and then another as he moved slowly, purposely through the swamp. Marsh snakes and revilers fed on the bodies of the dead all around, but Hasin was not among them. He zig-zagged through the swamp on trails, checking over all of the bodies he found to see if Hasin was among them. Anger flared deep inside as the thought occurred to him that maybe Hasin had let his men come in without him. Was he so much of a coward that he would sacrifice his men so he could stay safe? He was no leader. He was no warrior. He was a selfish piece of filth that needed someone else to keep him in line. At some point, he came to the far edge of the Mordin Marshes and slowed even more, hiding himself from sight. There were ten men who had made camp. No elves were present, but his target was. Hasin sat with his face in sight, eating and drinking as if he had come out victorious. The sky was just beginning to lighten as he watched them, fury raging through his very being. It had taken the entire evening and night for him to check through the marshes safely and find his way here. Kole took his bow off his back and moved to the trees, no longer concealing himself. His heart pounded in his ears as he aimed. He released the first arrow. It flew straight and sure. It thudded into one man’s neck. He moved a ways further and released a second. It pierced a man through his eye and deep into his skull. A third was down with two arrows; one to his stomach and another to the chest. A fourth with an arrow to his chest and still a fifth with an arrow to his back. They all dropped, dead by the time they hit the ground. He was concealing himself again, moving closer. He had three left by the time he was close enough to draw his blade. By now the campsite was in a panic. They were untrained when it came to finding a hidden elf. It was simple for him to slip behind two of the men and cut them down.

         Only Hasin was left and he was looking frantically around. And then Kole materialized out of thin air, his face dark and grim. Hasin attacked and the bearded man blocked his sword. He was easy to overpower and the half-breed enjoyed doing so. He locked the mercenary’s sword against the dirt and landed a fist into his stomach. He felt a pop as Hasin was thrown through the air, hitting the dirt hard. He was sure he had burst an organ of some kind. A groan of torment was heard and the attacker continued on. He kicked the wounded man in the ribs, breaking at least two. “You really thought that Fallon would fall to a weak piece of human debris like you? You thought you would escape the consequences of your decisions by avoiding the marshes?” He stomped on the man’s shoulder, shattering it. A scream echoed in the night blood beginning to stream from his mouth and nose. “Is this fun for you? Because I can assure you, I am enjoying it immensely.” The mercenary cursed at him, spitting at him in abhorrence. Kole just smiled and laughed. The sound was one he had never even thought he could make, but it did not bother him. It iced the other man’s blood and turned his hatred into pure fear. It was a laugh of the likes he had rarely heard before. “Die.” With that last word on his lips, he crushed the man’s skull underfoot and decapitated him. Without hesitation, he searched his belongings and ate any food that was still available and already cooked. He took money and retrieved some arrows. He cleaned his sword, took his time polishing it, and then stood and headed back the way he had come.

          Evening was just setting in when Fallon and the others turned to see a shadow moving at the entrance to the marsh. They all stood still, weapons at the ready. Fallon slowly came to his feet, drawing his sword, his breathing slowing and evening out. He had awoken an hour or so before to find his hunter missing, but was prepared to defend himself and the others. As the man moved closer, covered in blood and walking like a demon out of hell, they recognized him. Kole appeared out of the mist, covered in the blood of mercenaries and carrying some extra bags with him. When he came close, they all stared. Fallon saw in his eyes the same deadness and bitterness and wrath that he had harbored for so long and he regretted ever bringing him on this journey.

         Kole grabbed some of the food they had cooked and stuffed it into his mouth, taking the canteen of ale passed to him and gulping it down. Then he looked up, swallowing a mouthful. “Hasin is dead. And the last mercenaries that had escaped the marsh. I made sure they knew their mistake.”

         They all simply stared at him, their faces uncertain. Ventris stood there, wordless. The man he had grown up with was no longer recognizable as such. He had become someone else entirely. He had become like a black demon. Like Fallon. Everyone saw it and the discomfort was palpable in the small group of survivors. Fallon made his way over to Kole and sat down. “What happened out there?”

         The other man shrugged. “They thought they had killed us, or at least you. There were ten left. They were eating and enjoying their false victory when I sneaked up on them and sent them all to hell. I made sure that Hasin suffered as he should have before he died miserably.” Opening a bag at his belt, he detached it from his clothing and set it down, pulling out Hasin’s crushed head. Blood was still wet on the neck and face. The face was so destroyed, it hardly looked human. He dropped it on the ground and finished eating. An eerie silence fell over everyone. Even the birds seemed to stop chirping and all of nature was quiet.

         Fallon was dumbstruck. He knew that Kole had become difficult to control, but this was beyond what even he feared. He had never been at a loss for words due to brutality. Mostly because he was always the one being the most brutal. Kole continued eating as if he had merely brought back Hasin’s sword or his bag of money.

         The half-breed looked around and stopped eating. His confusion at the looks he received was evident. “What?”

         Fallon spoke up. “Why did you return with Hasin’s head?”

         Shrugging, he took another bite of his food. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He really got to me. He wasn’t nearly as intelligent as he thought and he sat there, stuffing his face after the fight as if he hadn’t a care in the world.” Everyone watched as he also stuffed food into his mouth with not much care for the situation. “I just couldn’t take it. He let all of his men die with no thought for their lives and no care that he sacrificed over one hundred men and was satisfied with returning with nine.” Kole needed to be contained and soon. The less he was allowed to go off on his own to hunt people the better. He would never be the same and it would not begin to haunt him until after all of this ended and he found himself lost and tortured. IF he even survived, that is. The half-breed finished eating, downed some ale, and with a baleful look at those around him, he picked up the severed head, threw it with a heave so it landed in the cover of the trees. It was obvious that he assumed that would lessen the tension in the group. It did not.

         Fallon took the first watch despite Kole being wide awake at the edge of the camp that night. They remained where they were. At least for tonight, no one would find them, even if they were still being tracked. Fallon whistled a short, high pitch and waved Kole over to himself. The other ambled over and sat heavily in the dirt. His beard and hair were dirty and unkempt, making him appear more of a monster than the king. His lord was also quite scruffy and his shaggy hair was longer than he had ever allowed it to grow before. He was beginning to grow a beard himself. It actually looked quite good on him, changing his look to more of a warrior than anything. It grew because of the lack of effort to keep clean shaven. Ventris kept himself shaved, but even he was growing weary of the effort and was showing thick stubble. They sat together silently, neither feeling much like talking. Fallon was the only one of the group that seemed in any way comfortable with being near Kole after what had happened. It was bothering both of them, but for much, much different reasons. The night passed by quiet and uneventful. The two men sat for most of it, letting whoever would have taken the midnight watch sleep. When it was time to wake someone for the last watch, the men turned in. They had not uttered more than a few words the entire night. However, that silence and companionship did more for their brotherhood than anything else. Fallon made a point to wake Ishain before rolling out his cloak and sleeping.

         They all awoke in the morning except Ishain, who was already awake since he took the last watch. The men ate a small breakfast and saddled their steeds, mounting up and turning north. However, they were all surprised when Fallon told them that they would go east.
         “But there is nothing east. It's just… well… nothing,” Raffine pointed out.
         Fallon chuckled. “Does anyone else actually know what is in the east? The world does not end here.”
         Kole gestured with his chin. “There is a desert if I’m not mistaken.”
         Fallon smiled slightly. The subtle turning up of one corner of his lips was hardly even noticeable to anyone except Kole and Ventris.
         “That is correct. Mostly. There is a great expanse of water, as far as the eye can see. Merchants call it the Eastern Sea, but I’ve heard others refer to it as the Wanderer’s Sea.” He watched as each of his men’s eyes widened and they looked past him in fascination.
         “If people have traveled there and named it, then why is this sea not on any maps?” Ishain said in partial disbelief.
         “That, I do not know. But I have been there myself. It is real and people do live by the water. They make large sailing ships and they have explored islands across the water.” He took a moment to let his words sink it before continuing. “We will head there. Trackers will be searching to pick up our trail. Even if no one survived from the attack here, they will find us again quickly and the last thing we want to do is lead them to Tant. The less problems we cause and the less of a threat we are there, the easier our goal will be. Follow me.” With the last word barely off his lips, he turned his mount and urged the mare forward, giving his men a look before whispering to the horse and thundering away, leaving muddy tracks in his wake.
         The mercenary hunters smirked to each other, their natural desire to compete surfacing as they, too, kicked their steeds into a grueling race, pursuing their lord and leaving the marshes behind. Whoops and shouts could be heard as the horses raced, fast and low over the muddy ground that eventually led to rocky ground before turning to sparse forest. Still, the riders spurred their steeds faster. As one horse matched another, the animal’s eyes would focus on its competitor and seem to add a burst of speed, the hooves thundering faster, the horse galloping harder. Fallon still rode slightly ahead, but the others were catching up. All of their horses had been bred for speed, strength, and endurance. They were magnificent creatures and were more than happy to please their riders in this sport. Soon, however, the horses began to lose speed and the men began reigning in their mounts. Raffine had almost been neck and neck with Fallon’s mare when the king coaxed his horse to slow and rest. They all came to a trot and then a walk, the men laughing and giving one another high fives and praise. Raffine garnered the most praise of any of them. He had ended the race closest to the king.
         Fallon had them walk for a while to cool off their horses before appearing to look around. He seemed to examine the trees and rocks, looking up now and again before shifting direction and continuing. An hour passed. And then another. And then they all lost track of time. The sun moved from midday to mid afternoon and then began its descent into evening. And then Fallon stopped, listened, and urged his horse on again, changing direction for what seemed like the thousandth time. Soon, they came to a stream and a clearing on one side. The clearing was dotted with large rocks, boulders, and mossy patches. The other side of the stream was bordered very closely with trees. Fallon halted and dismounted. “We will rest here. Bathe, unbridle your mounts, and rest. Eat something and sleep until tomorrow. We have another long ride ahead of us.” It was obvious that Fallon was worn down from the misuse of his gift. Though he worked hard for them not to notice, it was clear in the way he moved and struggled to get comfortable that he was in pain .
         That night, Kole was moody. Something, no one knew exactly what it was, set him off and he rampaged. He punched a tree and broke his hand, argued with Fallon for longer than anyone thought he would ever dare, and started a fist fight with his best friend. No one knew what started the fight either. No one wanted to sleep when it was time to turn in. They stared at Kole until he thought they would burn a hole right through his clothes, flesh and bone and kill him. He huffed and dropped to the dirt at the edge of the fire light, near the water, and rolled out his thin blanket, his back to the others. Fallon assured everyone that he would take the night watch - the whole night watch and that if anything happened, he would take care of it. He left the other half-breed alone for once and just let him fume to himself. The king was convinced that he had no idea why tonight happened either. Fallon was sure Kole was just as confused about his own behavior as the rest of them. But he, the former mercenary, knew better. He understood better than anyone else could. If things did not improve soon, he would have to have a more serious talk with him.
         The night passed peacefully and everyone was in higher spirits as dawn broke. Everyone except Kole, that is. He ate angry, saddled his horse angry, and rode angry, keeping to himself, muttering quietly under his breath. It was not that he avoided the other men. It was actually the complete opposite. They avoided him and he just preferred to have the time to himself. They passed into hilly grasslands that slowly rose in elevation until they felt they had ascended a small mountain before the grasslands leveled off. The wildlife was different here. The bird's wings were wider, but more pointed, made for catching the smallest of air currents and riding them endlessly with minimal effort, but also sleek enough that they could dive and catch prey with mind boggling speed and agility. The larger animals were thinner, sleeker than those further inland. More like deer, but with horns that swept back, more like a gazelle. These were black or gray, sometimes both. Their smooth, molded faces turned as they rode by, their almost ridiculously large eyes watching cautiously. It was obvious hunting rarely, if ever, occurred here. The creatures raised their small, brown noses and sniffed the air as a breeze blew the men’s scent across the open expanse. In the distance, on the horizon, the riders could just make out a blue line, as if someone had placed a light blue string on the top of the landscape before them. The hazy color filled them with anticipation. Bunnies and other small creatures scurried through the grass, some even weaving in and out of the horses hooves, causing them to dance in frustration at the inconsiderate and annoying pests. Foxes darted here and there and a wingless bird bounded away as they drew close. The sun was warm and the sky was bright; a complete and utter contrast to the foul mood that the travelers all held.

         The next three days passed by awkwardly as the men traveled, all afraid to speak to Kole. It was agonizing for all of them, but probably most for the one who caused it. He was moody and temperamental, trying to figure out what he did wrong. He had saved Fallon’s life and gone to avenge Trint. He had bought them more time from being discovered right away and had succeeded in taking down Harta’s second in command without so much as a real struggle. They should be proud of him, not upset and disappointed. He looked around at the others. Their group was traveling extremely slowly so Fallon could fully recuperate. That elf who held less than no respect for the king. The one who threatened his life and instead of being executed, he was allowed to leave unpunished. Who did he think he was?

         Fallon rode up to him, indicating for him to separate a bit from the others. Kole followed and they rode side by side just out of earshot. “Kole… I know what you did, you did for us. I am grateful that you did not wait to end the mercenaries that had come for us. We all are.” He paused, looking around, considering his next words carefully. “I want you to remember what I am about to tell you. No matter what anyone does, how angry you get, and whether we succeed or fail, remember what I tell you now. Remember who you were before you left Kezna. This is not who you want to be. You do not want to be a heartless killer, out for revenge in the most severe ways possible. That was me before I met the queen. I was this. You have become the one thing I have run from for so long. I can not say I regret bringing you with us, but I can’t say I don’t either. Time will tell which I should feel. No one recognizes you anymore, brother.”

         Brother. That word did something to the younger man. He pursed his lips and breathed out deeply, looking around before glancing at Fallon. “I always wanted to be like you. I idolized you, admired you, dreamed about having a life like yours. I was a young hunter with no aspirations of my own until Ventris mentioned that you were putting together a guard of mercenary hunters. That was when I knew I could prove myself to you. It was the first and only opportunity I would ever get. I got so caught up in your life that I wanted to be just like you. Everyone loves you. Everyone will follow you to the death. I wanted that. I wanted to be respected and admired no matter what I did, but not just because. I wanted to be respected because I was like you. Call it childish, but that is how I always felt. The killing, the… whatever you want to call it. I have never been so angered in my life. It has become a release, a method to vent my anger in a way where I can help someone. Help you, Fallon.”

         The king saw that somehow, somewhere, his soldier was still a young man vying for his approval and struggling to come to grips with the reality of what he had experienced. Instead of learning to manage what he felt he could not control, he vented it in ways that would be most profitable and beneficial to his king, the only person he had ever pledged his complete loyalty to. It made Fallon sad, if he was honest with himself. He had brought this laid back, happy man to the brink of insanity and broke whatever innocence he had in order to make him into the very thing he had spent most of his time trying to escape. “Do you like the life I lived, Kole?”

         “I can’t say that I do,” he responded almost regrettably, as if somewhere inside he wished he could say yes.

         “Good. Then there is still hope for you. This was my life. This is the life you have craved since you heard of me. It is not the glorified story you thought it would be. You imagined glory and honor and a sense of accomplishment and pride, did you not?” The other man nodded silently. “I thought that’s what I would get as well at one point. But it is a vain, fool’s hope. All this life leads to is regret, shame, and despair in the worst possible ways. I still have dreams of what I’ve done. My demons have never left me since I was a child. And I think they never will. But I do this for Calya and my son.”

         Kole looked at him wearily. “You do it for yourself, too. You do it to prove to yourself that you are more than what you’ve done.”

         Shaking his head the king looked at him for a long minute. “I stopped trying to prove the impossible a while ago. I am the accumulation of everything I have done and how easily I slipped back into enjoying the kills is proof I will never be anything else. I have never hated myself more. Don’t be me, Kole. Be better than me. We will talk again later, brother.”

         That word again. Brother. He longed to be what the king needed, what he expected. But maybe what he really needed was just that. A brother. Someone he could rely on, not someone that made him see himself. A sense of shame crept up from somewhere deep within. This would not end well for any of them. But if he made it out alive, he would do his best to be what his king desired. No. He would be even better than that.

         Fallon spoke quietly to Ventris, nodding up at Kole now riding alone. The elf nodded, and urged his steed to catch up. “Kole. Are you doing alright? Things have been chaotic. I apologize for not being there if you had needed me.”

         “Do you fear me, Ven?”

         The question took his friend by surprise. “I don’t know that I would say I fear you per say. But I fear that what you have done will come back to haunt you and you will never be able to go back to the man I knew. I fear that by the end of this, you will have scarred your soul to the point that you can never feel human again.”

         Similar to what Fallon said, he thought sullenly. Had he really lost himself so much that people were afraid for him to such a great extent?

         Over the months that Fallon had traveled with Kole, he realized something that intrigued him. The young soldier was not an angry person. It took a lot to enrage him. However, he also lacked the ability to appropriately control his anger when it flared. Once set off, he was a force to be reckoned with. Until then, he was as docile as a sleeping kitten. As the king watched his men, Kole consistently stood out to him, both in skill, aggression, and unwavering commitment and loyalty. While Ventris was his most skilled fighter, he lacked the heart and conviction that made his best friend more dangerous. Once Kole was enraged, he held nothing back until he was satisfied with revenge for whatever had burned up his long fuse. The longer this campaign lasted, the shorter that fuse became and the more of a nightmare he became to his enemies. Because of his fierce loyalty, Fallon’s men had no worries for their own safety, but a mercenary was an entirely different story.
         The small band was only four men already, with the exception of Fallon. Dane had returned to Kezna with a new assignment when he could not stomach their task. Yuce was taken down by Kole when he was found to have betrayed the king and queen and the young prince. Iskale had given his life in return for the promise that innocent hostages would be released if he sacrificed himself. This was a false promise that had Fallon become a near invincible force, nearly taking his own life. The last man to be lost was Trint, who was lost from a stray arrow during a battle. Fallon considered it a wasteful loss because of the circumstances. He was a talented fighter and was difficult to take down. The poorly timed shot in the wrong direction took a good man from them all and in a way broke whatever carefree, laid back air Kole had left. Ventris, Ishain, Kole, Raffine, and Fallon remained.

         Another day passed before they came to the edge of a grassy rise. There, Fallon called for a halt. The men looked out from their height and saw the endless blue-green expanse of water. Islands dotted the sea like crumbs on a carpet. The men all sat, speechless, in their saddles. All except Fallon who had seen this sight before. He smiled, watching their amazement turn to awe and their awe turn to excitement. He saw a childish anticipation come over all of them as they looked at one another, the worries of the past days temporarily forgotten and the view ahead enrapturing them fully. The taste of salt filled their mouths from the breeze off the water and the wind had changed in a way they could not quite explain, but definitely felt. With the sparkling carpet stretching out further than the eye could see, the five men urged their horses and made their way around the crest of the rise to find a way down.
         Rocks shifted and scattered as they rode over the hard ground on the side of the mound. It took a while to notice the sea appearing closer than before. The pace was so slow that they seemed to barely make any progress for what seemed like hours. Stones slid under the horses’ hooves and the way was difficult to navigate.

         Dane looked out over the city from the balcony. This balcony was newly built and made it so Calya could oversee the happenings in the entire city and the old city walls from the palace. He sighed heavily. The guard had finally taken a break, as the queen suggested, leaving her handpicked guard around her to keep her safe in their absence. There were at least two elves among their number. He was the head of the guard and the one who personally trained the men. A few maids who were half-breeds were also trained with hidden knives as well. Everyone who wished to be, was trained under Dane directly or under the guards who protected the queen. Every one of the guards were soldiers who had been in the battle to retake Kezna when Calya reclaimed her throne. They were the most trustworthy because they had risked their lives once already to prove their allegiance to her majesty. The maid who helped watch the prince had also been trained in the basics of archery and sword fighting. She opted to keep a large hunting knife under her skirts. She was decent at both and would be beneficial in an emergency, but was in no way a warrior or protector. She was young, but was determined to do everything she possibly could to take care of the young prince. The guard let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand over his face. He was twenty-seven, but felt much older. He could not even imagine how the others felt, those still with Fallon. Were they even still alive? Were they close to succeeding? Questions flowed through his mind like water from a broken dam. There was a rider approaching the old gates. Dane had a feeling he had not been stopped at the first gate. He could not explain where the feeling came from, but it was there, nevertheless. He stayed another moment at the balcony before hastening inside.

         It was just past midday and the queen was in the throne room. Trayzer crawled on the floor behind the thrones with Arenn clapping her hands quietly as the boy squealed and reached for her excitedly. Dane’s heart clenched in his chest. One of his men hurried up to him, his brow creased.

         “Sir, we have received a report-”

         “Don’t leave the queen. Make sure Gammir and Arenn stay with the prince. And take them out of here to somewhere in the castle where they will be easier to protect. I saw the rider. Something doesn’t feel right about it.” The commander’s voice was low and strained, and the other nodded curtly. Then, the subordinate lifted his hand in a gesture and seven other men came out of the shadows and jumped into action. Arenn rushed to pick up the little prince from the floor and one of the guards went to retrieve Gammir who had taken a short break in the kitchen, probably just drinking a coffee. Dane knew he should stay with the queen because of Fallon’s orders, but he felt this was important enough to disobey his lord.

         He went right up to the queen, ducked his head in respect, and leaned in close. “Go with your guards and do what they tell you, your highness.” Then, without waiting to see or hear her response, he hurried from the throne room and out of the great hall.

         Dane mounted his horse and galloped through the streets toward the gates. The rider he had seen from the balcony was arguing with the guards at the wall. The man’s hair stood on his arms. This rider, the one outside the gate, there was something off about him. The soldier dismounted and subtly caught the attention of one of the men on the walls. He tapped the back of his neck and nodded to the visitor. The soldier on the wall nodded and did a similar motion to the others on both sides of the wall.

         The aggressive man outside the city had medium length blonde hair tied back, tanned skin, a large frame, a short shadow of facial hair, dark brown eyes, and thick brows. He was imposing by anyone’s standards and Dane knew if a fight were to happen, he was at a severe disadvantage. But he had been trained by the best there was and the men on the walls could back him up if needed. The soldier at the gate was, thankfully, inside the gate and was, therefore, out of reach of the other man. Dane glanced up, looking for any confirmation, his ears picking up bits of the argument as he waited.

         “I need to see the queen!”

         “I cannot let you in without clearance. They should have stopped you at the first gate.”

         A hawk was released from a lookout on the wall. It was a bird they used to send messages between the lookout posts on the two walls when something had to be communicated without delay.

         “I already told you my name! Are you deaf, man?”

         The soldier in the argument shifted his gaze ever so slightly to see if Dane had caught the man’s name and the queen’s guard gave a slight shake of his head.

         “I need you to repeat it one more time. The longer you argue with me, the longer you will sit there.”

         The man raged, spitting out curses, running his hand over his pulled back hair. Then he glared at the man. “My name is Caphon, you stupid dimwit. Did you hear it this time? Or do you need me to tell you it a thousand more times? The queen knows me and I expect to get an allowance to enter!”

         Dane wracked his brain, trying to think of why that name sounded familiar. He glanced up again, hoping someone had caught a glimpse of the man’s neck. A soldier made a hand movement on the other side of the city gate. When the guard looked up, the soldier nodded gravely. This is what he was afraid of. Without hesitation, he yanked the gate guard back, away from the argumentative mercenary and looked at the man before him with such hatred, it was nearly palpable. A slow smile spread across the other’s face. Not a smile full of warmth and joy. It was a smile full of malevolence, sinister intent, and bloodlust. He knew he had been found out.

         “What are you going to do, little boy? You’ve realized the first wall’s mistake. Now what? You think I am the only one here?”

         The mercenary hunter moved, faster than the other could anticipate, grasping the front of his tunic through his cloak and pulling him roughly forward. The mercenary’s face slammed against the bars of the gate, a loud, aggravated grunt escaping from his mouth. Dane put his mouth against the bars and his voice came out in a low growl. “How many more of you are there?”

         “Figure it out, weakling.”

         In that instant, a horn sounded from the great hall. Dane glared back at the man darkly. He pulled his sword to kill the man as he felt cold steel pierce his side. He had let down his guard. He had left himself open. And he had paid for it. In anguished rage, he dropped his sword, yanked the mercenary’s long knife out of his side, and with a cry of maddened fury, drove the blade into the enemy’s face. Blood spurted from the man’s eye socket where the knife entered his skull and an agonized shriek sounded. The horrific screaming continued for only a few moments of desperate clawing before he sagged and fell to the ground. How he hadn’t died instantly was beyond anyone’s understanding, but he was certainly dead now. The queen’s guard held his side, heaving, and tore his sleeve as he struggled to run to his horse. He tied the strip around his abdomen tightly and painfully forced himself up into the saddle. He looked like he would pass out at any moment, but he had to return to Calya. He had to protect her. Dane urged his horse into a gallop and willed himself to stay upright. The sound of thundering hooves echoed in his ears, causing his brain to lapse into an almost coma at the repetitive sound.

         Calya sprinted down the halls with her guards, her hands going to her belt to check for her newly crafted weapon. She had Gammir custom order a weapon specifically for her from a merchant that traded from the Lowlands. It was called a blowdart. It worked like a bow, except with darts tipped with poison that shot out like an arrow, propelled by your breath. There it hung on her belt at her waist, along with her sword, throwing knives and hunting knife. The guards rushed her down another hallway. She paused briefly, pushed in the stone wall and retrieved her bow and arrows. She had weapons hidden all over the great palace now. She was prepared if she ever became trapped and had to sneak through her home. They made their way to one of the lookouts, the guards mostly going ahead of her with two behind to guard her back. There was a large room at the top with only one entry and one exit. The exit was up into the open and the entrance went back the way they had come. What had been done to prevent being trapped, was a cord had been carefully concealed, and should anyone make it this far, they could slide down the cord to the balcony below and escape from there down to the ground and into an alleyway in the main city. It was the best they could do and the cord was hidden in with the vines that crept up the stone walls. The doors to the hall had been closed and barred. All of the doors had been reinforced with iron to prevent them from being able to be burned through. The servant's kitchen had likewise been replaced with an iron door that could be closed and barred in the case of an emergency. The palace was nearly impenetrable since Kikarii had helped them with plans to secure the city and hall better than before. The great hall had become a fortress instead of merely a palace. When they arrived in the top room, they stopped, and Calya listened. Her breaths came in ragged heaves, partly from the flight, and partly from the panic. But she was ready for them. Her guards heard nothing, those with elven blood listening intently with no results. The queen thought of her child, her son, left with Arenn and Gammir, they had agreed that the best course of action would be for her to go to her cousin’s home in the city. He had dark enough hair and similar enough features to Trayzer that he could pass as the girl’s husband and she a young mother with their baby. Also, the mercenaries were after the royal family. Not the civilians in the city. The further the baby was from the palace, the safer for now. The maids and servants were sent to the lower levels to stay in their wing of the structure until they were called out by Gammir or Dane. It was the safest place for them for now. They were locked in and the enemy was sealed out.

         Calya let out a deep, quivering breath. “I’m going up,” she said suddenly.
         One of her guards, Brax, blocked her. “I cannot allow that, your highness. Dane appointed me as his default in his absence and we did not agree to that.”
         “I did not ask for your agreement, Brax. I told you what I am going to do. I am going up and you are going to vacate my path and allow me to do so. If you would prefer to stand with me, I would greatly appreciate it, but I will do as I please. I will not sit quietly while this refuse invades my home and puts my people in danger. Now step aside.” Her eyes burned with such ferocity that Brax merely stared uncertainly before stepping away.
         Then he stepped beside her. “I will stand with you, my queen, no matter what.”

         He gestured for one of his men to open the door hatch to the lookout and he made his way up the ladder before making sure it was clear for her to join him. Together, they scanned the surrounding city and trees. Then Calya and Brax spotted the breaches at the same time. Multiple places had been opened along the wall nearby. The scouts were killed silently and the enemy entered quickly. But where were they? Where were the mercenaries?
         The queen’s heart pounded in her ears, her eyes darting furtively around. And then she focused. Her eyes began to cloud before she closed them. A moment later, a cry of dismay and pain echoed from behind the stone walls. She opened her red eyes and spun. Though she could not track someone without seeing them, she could hone her blessing to use almost as a tracking weapon. As long as she knew who she was searching for. And in a way she did. She had burst a man’s organ as he attempted to scale the palace wall. She heard a thud as he hit the ground, writhing in pain. She finished him off by forcing him into a deadly heart attack. Soon, his sounds ceased. All went silent. Or almost silent. She focused again on the sounds around her, as did Brax. He was an elf and more than capable of hearing anything she may miss. Calya’s eyes turned red again as she sought out a second victim. Another yell sounded from a different direction. The screaming continued. The stand in commander saw movement and loaded his bow, loosing an arrow into the struggling mercenary. A man cursed a short distance from where the second mercenary had been trying to breach the hall. Calya again honed her blessing and hunted the man down. She blinded him quickly and his fear and panic made him an easy target for Brax’s bow skills. Three down. She wondered how many more. The woman’s head and chest exploded in pain as she began trying to search out another victim. She put her hand to her forehead and stumbled back. The soldier caught her, his face creased with concern. Her misuse of the royal blessing was taking its toll quicker than before. She had to end this quickly, but without knowing how many men there were, she was at a severe disadvantage.

         Dane gritted his teeth against the lightheaded feeling that fought to take over and send him hurtling into the stone streets. The horse finally gained the courtyard and slid to a stop in the middle, backing up in cautious, anxious steps. Any chance to build a strategy was gone. They were found immediately. The guard somehow felt a burst of adrenaline and his mind became laser focused. He thought that this must happen with severely wounded soldiers who take out a large number of enemy soldiers right before they die after having been mortally wounded. But it did not matter to him if he died. What mattered is that he accomplished what Fallon had given him to do. Calya and the prince must be protected at all costs. He counted the men in the courtyard. There were five. Three elves. Anohean was really not taking any chances this time. Dane was going to die and he knew it. Glancing around, he spotted a beacon torch along the wall. If he had to die, he would go down in fire. He spurred his horse forward, rocketing across the stone ground. Reaching out, he grasped the torch handle and swiped the small piece of flint tied to it along the stone wall. The torch caught. He continued riding as the mercenaries prepared to face him. One shot at his horse, skimming across the beast's shoulder. The animal squealed and faltered. Dane urged it on. In a frightened panic now, the horse increased its speed, eyes wide and rolling back in terror. Just a little further and the guard threw the torch, causing it to wedge itself into the wooden frame of a large vat.
         The men surrounding him laughed in ignorant amusement. They had yet to realize that the wood that was nearly burned through already was full of an oil and pitch mixture. It could burn for hours and as they moved closer and two more came around the building to join them, the wood finished charring and collapsed, sending a small flood of the highly flammable liquid splashing across the courtyard. The men cried out as the thick fluid stuck to their skin and clothing. The flames caught immediately. Screams of horror rang out as the inferno spread to consume the enemy soldiers as they struggled to rid themselves of the clothing. But their clothing was soaked through with the oil and despite having rid themselves of the pitch, their skin was slick and caught fire anyway. Dane rode to escape the burning flood, realizing that his horse’s legs had been splashed as well. Not wanting to put the animal through unnecessary torment, He rode to the entrance to the yard and leapt off of the steed, slapping its rump as it passed through the arch and ran down into the street. The shrieks of agony and the smell of melting flesh reached his ears and nose. He wrinkled his nose, trying to keep from heaving at the scent. Seven mercenaries were taken care of. It was time to find the others.

         Calya heard the commotion and turned to face the courtyard below them. She saw Dane hurl the torch and saw him release the vat of extra pitch for the beacon torches. The pitch had been set aside to dip torches in when they needed them to burn in the rain. It was kept in a closed vat along the wall and the main torch had a flint tied to it and stuck in the pitch so it could be dragged across the stone and lit in an instant without another flame present. The guard’s quick response to the danger he was in saved his life.
“Brax,” she spoke up.

“Yes, my lady?”
“End them down there. I cannot stand to hear it.”

         He nodded obediently and strung his bow. He loosed arrow after precise arrow and one by one silenced the flaming men below. Calya saw Dane look around in confusion before lifting his eyes and spotting them. He nodded to some unspoken plan and began circling the base of the hall. Every minute or so, a stone would tap against the rock of the lookout and Calya would focus on that area, searching for some sign of an enemy. And each time, a scream rang out before Dane silenced it. This happened three times before Brax warned her that the rest of the men had reached the level below them. They were within view. She pulled out her blow dart and with a quick aim, shot one dart into the arm of a mercenary. Within seconds, he dropped, unmoving to the stone roof of the palace. Only his chest heaved up and down in confused horror when the man realized he was now paralyzed except for his eyes. He could make sounds, but could not move his mouth to form words. The others hesitated, observing their comrade for only a moment before flying into a rage and throwing climbing hooks over the tower and beginning their ascent. The temporary commander sawed through one cord before he realized that cutting through them would be too slow. The one he did manage to snap threw the man down, bouncing off the roof and hurtling down to the ground. Calya strung an arrow and let one fly alongside her companion, her red eyes flaring to assist in slowing down the oncoming assault. Their skin burned like acid and their skin split on their hands, causing their grip to slip with their own blood as it dripped down to ruin their hold. Cursing could be heard from below the two fighters. Calya looked around again for Dane, but he was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he was trying to find a way up to her and she kept stalling the enemy so that Brax could take them down one at a time. As he embedded his arrows in each mercenary, he yelled down to the rest of the guard to go and have the other guards and soldiers make a thorough sweep of the palace grounds and the city for any remaining men.
         Soon, the carnage was complete. The queen and her commander had lost count of how many men were killed before they slumped down in exhaustion. Calya began nodding off, her vision blurring and her head pounding. Her chest felt like it would explode, her skin burned and her eyes stung. He picked her up as a man would his bride, and handed her down to the one remaining guard in the lookout tower. When he finally closed the door and turned to take the queen in his own arms again, one of the other guards burst through the door.

         “Sire!” he exclaimed. “Sir Dane is dying. His injury is severe and I don’t know if he will make it through the rest of the day.” He opened his mouth to speak again, but upon seeing his queen, he closed it and looked away. They all knew what he had wanted to say, but the queen would not be healing anyone right now.