Mercenary War - Book 2

Chapter 11

         Calya was a shell of herself after Habbi died. She wandered through the halls aimlessly. She would not let herself go, but she struggled to eat and drink. Recovery efforts were delegated to Cornelius. As always, Dane followed her close behind. She was so alone with no end in sight. Trayzer was beginning to walk around and would babble to her. She would smile and hug him, tears running down her cheeks. He was the only thing she had left of her husband. Dane’s heart ached as he followed her around the castle. He silently begged Fallon to hurry and finish his mission and come home. Don’t you understand how much your wife and son need you? If I had what you have here, I never would have been able to force myself to leave. And you left so easily. He was filled with a simmering anger at his king. Watching his queen deteriorate because her husband chose to leave her with their child was becoming too much. It was almost worse than the horror of what he witnessed while with Fallon. If only you could see her, Fallon. You’d never leave again.

         Cornelius came, hurrying down the hall from the throne room, a parchment gripped in his hand, his face both optimistic and grave. He dropped to one knee before the queen. “Your highness.” His voice was strained. “A messenger bird came with a letter from Kikarii, lord of Tant. I have yet to read it. I thought you would want to see it first.”

         The queen reached out quickly with a gasp, pulling the paper from her advisor’s hand. “What does it say?” She opened the scroll and read quickly. Her hands began trembling and she had a faint, pained smile on her lips as more tears fell. “He’s alive. Fallon’s alive. He’s in Tant.”
         Dane looked at the letter. “Is he alone?” She shook her head, but was grieved by the rest of the notice. His blue eyes scanned the letter desperately. Fallon had four men with him. Who else was gone? Did they desert him, die, or betray him? What had happened since he left? He felt a tightening in his chest. He felt shame, regret, and a deep sense of shame. The other men in the group were sacrificing their lives and probably seeing things much worse than he had. What was he doing? He was following the queen around, living in comfort with a full stomach and clean clothes and position.
         It was late in the night when Dane heard a shriek from Calya’s bed. He was on his feet in an instant, sword in hand. Arenn came rushing in to check on Trayzer. The young prince woke up crying and she took him in her arms, soothing him and beginning to sing in a low voice to comfort the child. He snuggled up to her and curled up in her arms and sucked his thumb, gasping while he calmed down. Dane was beside the bed with one of the candles lit. Calya sat, her face in her hands, sobbing. Her heavy, deep cries filled the air nearly every night. The sound was heart wrenching as her soul shattering sobs echoed through the hallways. Gammir stood in the doorway, his eyes full of sorrow. Calya leaned against Dane's shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s never coming back, Dane, is he? I keep seeing his death a thousand different ways. I can’t live without him. I missed it for so long. I did this to him. I was so intent on keeping him here that I caged him. This is all my fault. I sent him to his death.” Her body shook violently and she gagged with the force of her crying. There was nothing the men could say to calm her. Dane hesitantly put a hand on her back and ran it up and down to help comfort her. He felt odd since she was his queen, but what could he do? He could not bring himself to be rigid at this moment. Arenn took the toddler to her room next to the queen’s and snuggled with the boy as he slowly relaxed and fell back asleep. The girl quietly let tears fall as she hurt for her queen.

         Kikarii turned to Ariah. “Did I do the right thing, Rye? Should I not have sent that letter to Calya?”

         “You did well. She has a right to know that her husband is alive and not alone.” She rubbed his shoulders. “Fallon has been up on the mountain for a couple weeks now. I've heard the sounds of his experiments, so he must still be alright.”
         “Yes,” Kikarii responded. He must be. “I sent him up there, hoping he would blow himself up, you know.” His beautiful wife nodded silently, knowing he needed to talk. “I was intent on letting him kill himself so I wouldn’t feel like I failed. And then I would not have been responsible. And yet…” He hesitated. “And yet I now find myself hoping he will succeed. You have begun to wear at my resolve and I find myself beginning to agree with you.I only hope that we are doing the right thing.” He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes before dragging his hands down his face, incredibly overwhelmed. He chuckled humourlessly. “He is a much better king than I could ever be. He is putting his life in danger and leaving his wife with a full elven army to back her up and taking the highest risks possible to ensure she never has to fear again. And here I sit, trying to get him to kill himself so I can feel better. I don’t think I could do the same, even if it was to protect you. I've come to find that I am a coward, Ariah.” His voice turned bitter with his admission. “I know he was right, and I know you are right. I have been afraid to admit it because that would mean I have to forgive him for the things he has done. I wanted so badly to force him to be held accountable, but instead, he was handed an entire kingdom, the love of a devoted wife, a child, and the loyalty and adoration of a nation because he made one right decision in his entire life.”
         Ariah moved in next to him and slid his chair to face her. She knelt in front of her husband and took his hands in hers and kissed the back. Tears glistened in her eyes. It was rare for him to see his wife cry and he was taken aback. “You are no coward. You have every right to desire that. And you have come to see the reality of things regardless of how painful it is for you. I love you and I am proud of the man you have become. Do not downplay the things you have accomplished, darling.” She stood and pulled him up from his seat, leading him to the bedroom. “Rest, Kik. Sleep and we will talk more in the morning.”

         Fallon covered his eyes with his arm as the valley exploded again. Stone and dirt flung in all directions. He let out a frustrated growl and spun on his heel. “Raffine! What are we doing wrong? You’ve been keeping records of every test, have you not?”

         “Of course, Fallon. I do not know,” he responded warily. The mercenary’s moods had been dark and he had snapped at the men more than a couple times since they began their experiments.

         The king threw up his hands and yelled. “What am I missing?”

         Ishain ventured over and cleared his throat. “Uh… Fallon?”

         The other man looked at him darkly, annoyance seeping from him like mist.

         The guard cleared his throat again and spoke. “I think we should try grinding up the dirt into a finer powder. And maybe, if that doesn’t work, we can add something… umm… like oil or something of the sort.”

         Fallon thought this over for a minute, before nodding and telling him to go collect more gems and dirt from the caves and tunnels. They had been leaving torches by the gems and running to a safer distance so the gems would heat up slower than striking them. Fallon was really hoping that this time, they would get a much bigger blast. He sat and waited, drinking water from his canteen. When the men returned an hour later with more gems and buckets of dirt, he set to grinding the dirt into more of a powder with his hunters. The next test showed little promise and the mercenary was nearly ready to give up. A week of trial and error and everything had been in error.

         Kole shouted up to him from the valley and he looked in his direction. “Fallon, I have an idea. Do I have your permission to try it?”

         “Do what you want, Kole, I’m about to end things for today.” His voice held a tinge of discouragement. The man began walking away a few minutes later when he heard and felt a massive explosion behind him. It knocked him off his feet and threw him onto his stomach. He scrambled to his feet and spun in astonishment. “Fallon! I did it! I think, at least.” The other half-breed came running up the hill trying to put out the flames on his cloak.
         “What did you do differently?” Fallon asked in a rush of excitement.

         “We have been focusing on the dirt so much, but not the gems. I carefully ground up one of the gems and mixed it with the dirt. If we pour oil nearby and make a trail to it, we could probably light it up and let it travel to the powdered gems and dirt, it would be a constant explosion of the whole line of dust. Maybe. Or we might just blow up the entire line at once. I am not really sure.” Kole looked like he was getting confused by his own assumptions. He jumped to some conclusions he was still unsure about.

         Fallon patted the man on the back and congratulated him. “Let’s turn in for the night. At first light, we will continue this.”

         The next morning was rainy, the sky dark and foreboding. The next day was the same and the day after that as well. Fallon’s mood soured and he was on edge. Kole’s excitement at his discovery dulled as his restlessness grew. He tried to coax the other men to spar with him, but no one was in the mood and they ended up in fist fights more often than not. A week passed with no sun and the men were ready to kill each other off if something did not change. Finally, the ninth day dawned bright and warm. However, the ground was covered in deep mud. Two more days of waiting found the dirt dry again and their tests resumed. One gem was ground to dust very carefully by Kole as the others watched, holding their breath, expecting him to blow himself up at any moment. He did not. He piled the powder on a small mound of dirt in equal measures and backed off, motioning everyone around him to do the same. They stood as far away as they could while still seeing the small mound they had formed, and then Ventris threw a torch from the hill. The boom was nearly deafening and the flash of light was surprising. The heat nearly reached them. Fallon’s face lit up as he ran down the hill to look at where the mound had been. The ground was not scorched, but it was hot. He lifted his hand. “That was it! Again! Let’s do it again. More this time!”
         For the next week, the men slowly added more and more angelfire and when the size of the blast ceased to grow, they added more of the powdered dirt until they found the perfect ratio of dirt to gem. Raffine documented everything and Ishain found that he had a much steadier hand than Kole for grinding up the gems a bit faster. Ventris had the best arm and aim for throwing the torch when then had finished setting up each trial. Once they perfected the amount of dirt to gem, they expanded their pile quicker and then began adding an oil trail to test that out. Two weeks later, singed, tired, burned, and parched, they made their first trial run for the fortress destruction. They ran a line of powdered gems and dirt around parts of the valley and set the oil trail a long ways away. This was their largest test yet and this would determine whether they could succeed. The men returned to the cabin and stood outside while Ventris lit the oil and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He was almost back to Akhron’s home when the dust caught. The resounding boom was so loud, their ears were left ringing, the ground shook beneath them, the light was blinding, the heat reached them, dust blew past them, and the sound and all continued in one long explosion until the entire line of dust had been burned up. They had done it. In one month they had come here with nothing and managed to create a weapon that even Harta could not withstand.

         Ariah jolted when she heard the explosion from the mountain. Her eyes instantly searched the horizon. The smoke billowed into the air and a slight tremor caused the ground beneath her feet to shudder. Her heart raced in her chest and her jaw clenched. Did they survive that? Could they have? Did they succeed at finding a solution or at killing themselves? Kikarii came running out of the tavern and slid to a stop to look with her. “They did it. They actually did it,” he murmured to himself. To say he was shocked would be an understatement.
         By nightfall, Fallon and his men were banging on Kikarii’s door. A guard came to alert him that the king of Kezna had returned from the mountain and demanded an audience. Immediately, the elf hurried to the door and beckoned them in. Over the next two hours, they explained the last three weeks in great detail. Raffine handed over all of the parchment he had made notes on.

         Kikarii shook his head. “I must be honest. I never thought I would be this glad to see you alive, Fallon.” The king straightened in surprise and looked at Ariah and then at Kikarii again. He was not sure what to say. “Don’t say a thing, Fallon. Just send the mercenaries to hell before you blow yourself there. I will send men to assist in loading up barrels of whatever you need in order to transport whatever supplies you need.”
         The mercenary held up his hand. “Not barrels. Pouches. Evenly measured pouches.” Kikarii slowly nodded and stood, shaking the man’s hand in genuine respect.

         The men had rested for a week after gathering and grinding down the gems and filling pouches with both that powder and the dirt, carefully keeping them separated. The packing and grinding and transporting everythign of of the mountian took a week and a half on it's own. In the end, though, they loaded the pouches into their saddlebags, onto their belts and in their packs. This was it. They would be finished and the king’s men could return home.

         There was a farewell given at the gate to Tant, and Fallon and his guards left quickly. Despite having accomplished their last objective before infiltrating Harta, their hearts were heavy and their moods solemn. They knew that the hardest part of this entire mission still lay ahead of them. They could still fail and that fact weighed heavily on them all. The days seemed to pass like dripping honey, an agonizingly slow dragging of time that grated on their nerves.

         After nearly a week of riding, something caught Ventris’ attention. He motioned to Ishain who got the attention of the others closer to him. They all turned their heads to find whatever Ventris had seen or heard. There was silence. It was the bone chilling type of unnatural silence when the animals cease to make a sound and things are not as they should be. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed by Raffine’s face. They all kicked their steeds and hollered to each other. These were elves and they were well concealed. They rode across an open field. Ventris scanned the fields around and behind him as he rode. Then he spotted the rippling grass and whistled to the others, they looked and saw what he was gesturing to. They had a chance. Stringing his bow, Ventris returned fire and caught one of the horses in the chest. It appeared out of thin air only a few meters from him and went crashing into the dirt, blood spilling from its nose and mouth. The elf on his back fell into the grass, rolled, and got back to his feet in one fluid motion. Ventris gritted his teeth and lunged forward. They became locked in a lethal dance. One mistake and one or the other would breathe his last.
         The other men tried to find the other horsemen. An arrow struck Fallon in the shoulder and he gasped before pulling it out, a growl of pain escaping through his clenched jaw. He launched a knife in the direction the arrow had come from and a rider appeared as the knife thudded into his chest and his horse veered away, running directly past him. Raffine and Kole were caught up in a singular battle, defending back to back against enemies that only one fo them could track. They cursed loudly as they barely managed to fend off deadly blows one after the other. Ishain was not so fortunate. He was looking for his attacker when an arrow pierced his back, the tip protruding from his chest. He coughed up blood that trickled down his chin and stained his chest. But he screamed and swung his sword around, beheading whatever rider had come to finish him off. He laughed a crazed cackle when the elf fell dead to the ground. Yet the sound was cut short when another rider came up behind him and severed Ishain’s head from his body. Ventris overpowered his attacker and when he saw Ishain’s headless body drop from his horse he let out a desperate cry, moving across the grass to join Kole and Raffine. The elves’ magic had been depleted. and they suddenly appeared. Kole had seen what happened to Ishain and was furious. His anger exploded so unexpectedly, that no one was prepared. He leaped through the air, his sword piercing through the mercenary’s skull and out the other side. When they both hit the ground, he ripped it out and charged to assist Fallon in fighting more elves. Kole disappeared and dismembered one elf before he even knew he was there. Ventris also disappeared and came to Fallon’s aid. There were four elves left. And the two men made a quick end to three of them. Fallon’s eyes flared and the fourth one dropped to his knees, clutching his neck before the king severed it.

         The lord gasped for breath and dropped to one knee himself. He took a minute as the others rushed to his aid. He was hauled to his feet and they surveyed the carnage. When they spotted Ishain’s body, they immediately went to retrieve it, along with his head to bury him. They pulled the pouches he carried from his belt and dispersed them. Then they retrieved his horse. They knew they could not stay long enough for a proper burial, so they covered him with rocks, branches and leaves and nodded before mounting up, and tying his horse to one of theirs so they would not lose the powders they had so meticulously measured out.

         They travelled in silence the rest of that day and into the next. Kole was seething and Ventris had retreated into himself. Raffine stared straight ahead as if in a trance and Fallon ground his teeth in silent rage. They were mere days from the fortress at this point. How many more men would they have to face? Would they even be able to make it inside alive?
         It was the middle of the night when they came within sight of the fortress. The four men dismounted and let their horses graze with their saddles and bridles on. Fallon waved over Ventris. “You, go scout around. Be careful, do not take any chances. We just need to know if there is a guard stationed around the fortress, or if the outside is clear. Come back as soon as you know one way or the other.”
         The elf nodded gravely and vanished from sight, racing through the inky darkness to make his report. Raffine checked his sword and polished it, Kole paced, swinging his own blade around and around in his hand, restless to finish what they had started, his adrenaline making his blood pound in his ears. Fallon remained completely still, like a black gravestone, he watched where Ventris was scouting ahead, barely breathing.

         An instant later, Ventris appeared by his side and nodded. “There are no sentries tonight. I think we can assume their forces are a bit thinned out.”

         Fallon tightened his resolve and turned to face the other men. “This is it, brothers. We either succeed or die trying. We left as a group of nine. There are four of us left. I want you all to leave here with me. I have given you the blueprints of the fortress from when I was here last. I hope you have memorized them. Your only mission is to form the lines of powder and get as far away from here as possible. When you meet with another powder trail and have laid the oil lines, you are done.”

         Kole took a deep breath. “If we don’t make it out alive, I need you to know that it was my greatest honor to accompany you, Fallon. I will stay with you to the grave.” The others voiced their agreement and the guards placed their fists over their hearts in a final show of fealty.

         “Thank you brothers. Now let’s go.”

         There was no moon this night, and their presence was near invisible in the thick blackness. Fallon reached the underground gate and poured oil on the hinges as a precaution. It gave a slight groan before swinging silently open. The group stood staring silently into the fortress, waiting for Fallon to take the first step. He finally did, and they followed grimly. Once free of the hallway, they all split up. Fallon began his trail of powder and ran it up a set of steps and into the dungeon area. When he stepped into the space and looked at the cell in front of him, he stopped, his chest feeling heavy. He saw dried, stale blood from his victims, and there in Kikarii’s cage were the bloodstains from all of his abuse. Taking a deep breath, he quickly let the trail go into the cell and left a pile of powder. Then he turned and raced up the steps. There was no telling if guards would be patrolling or carousing tonight. He continued his trail up on the second floor until he met with Raffine’s. He nodded to his friend.
         “You’re done. Go,” he commanded in a harsh whisper. The other man quietly turned and left him to continue on his own once more. The former mercenary quietly made a trail to the back of the brothel, hearing sounds he'd rather forget coming from inside. A pang of uncertainty made him hesitate ever so slightly as he thought of all those women who would never see their deaths coming. He shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. There was nothing he could do about it now. He backed away to the steps again.

         Ventris returned to the lower levels to lay tracks of oil that went up the steps. To meet with Kole’s powder lines. He had emptied his pouches and was nearly finished when a sound brought him up short. A blade had been drawn behind him and he turned, pulling his two swords from their sheaths. His eyes narrowed and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilts.

         Raffine was almost to the lower levels, when he heard footsteps. They did not belong to anyone in their group. He gritted his teeth, realizing this was it. He was not going to make it back to the gate. He brandished his blade and turned around to face Anohean.

         Kole gasped as he saw Ventris limping up the steps, blood seeping from gaping wounds on his side and leg. His clothing was streaked with crimson and his breaths came in gasps. He finished the oil trail with great difficulty. “You’re… done… Go… Fallon…” He coughed, spitting blood as he did so. “Fallon will… get me… out. Go ahead.”

         This didn’t feel right and Kole didn’t move. But then he realized that Fallon would be finishing any minute and would be coming back this way. He met Ventris’ eyes, gave a curt nod, and took off down the hall. His feet pounded dully under him as he sped through the halls. An elf appeared in the hall in front of him, and he barreled toward the man with mind blowing speed. He lifted his sword, deflected a blow, disappeared, and before the other elf could turn around, he stabbed him through the abdomen and ripped his sword up and out of him, leaving him nearly in half on the stone. Blood had sprayed all over him and he stumbled as he fled. Another mercenary came to stop him. This one was larger, and more of a match for the half-breed. Kole growled and headed straight for the man. His blade met the other’s and they fought, the clanging ringing off the walls and echoing through the entire fortress. He knew he wouldn’t make it out alive if he didn’t hurry.

         Raffine faltered, losing his footing under the pressing weight of Anohean’s blade. The commander laughed darkly, his smile eerie and maniacal in the torchlight. “You thought you could come in here and do what, huh? You are no match for me, worm.” He saw the moment Raffine’s footing slipped and he took full advantage. He pressed harder, swung his sword around and disarmed the hunter. Fear radiated from Raffine like a bonfire and Anohean relished it. He swung his blade in an expert arc and slowly, agonizingly dismembered the guard until the final killing blow silenced the horrific screams. Covered in blood, he turned and made his way down the steps in the opposite direction, convinced he had left a central meeting place with Fallon. He called to the former mercenary as he slowly went up the steps, keeping a sharp eye trained on every shadow, corner, hallway and landing as to miss nothing.

         Fallon finished the powder on the third floor and rushed down the steps to the underground corridors. Both Ventris and Kole should have finished their trails together, so they would be teaming up when they escaped. He did not worry for them, however, he did worry for Raffine. While he was fast, he was also alone.

         Kole closed one eye as blood seeped from a cut on his head. He stumbled, but blocked yet another blow. He let out a cry and dove under the elf’s blade, slamming into the other man at his midsection. The unexpected attack caught the man by surprise and he fell back, loosening his grip on his sword. Kole laughed and pummeled the man’s face. Blood spurted up from a broken nose. He heard the other’s skull crack under his blows. He held his enemy’s wrist to keep the sword at bay and smashed his face. When the man was unrecognizable, he took the mercenary’s own sword and removed his head, before dropping the blade and hurrying on his way, wiping blood from his eye. He stumbled, grabbed at the wall to stay upright, and urged himself to continue on.

         Ventris had crawled to a vacant room and shut the door. Gritting his teeth together, he threw his head back, silently crying out in pain. He knew he would die here. There was no getting around it. At least if he hid himself, his death would be instant and he would hold no one back from escaping. He whispered a plea that the others would make it out alive. He heard footsteps racing by and yelling from the hallway. His heart stopped as he waited, holding his breath, staring at the door. The sounds receded and he let out a deep sigh. He thought of his fiance, and quietly let a few tears fall. “I’m sorry. I won’t be home for our wedding. I love you.”

         Voices resounded as Fallon looked for an escape. They had spotted him. He leaped down the stairs, falling to the ground when he reached the bottom, he gasped and forced himself to his feet. He grabbed a torch and lit the trail of oil, before turning back the way he came and tearing up the stone stairwell. He reached the third floor and lit the other oil trail. He would have to give up on the oil on the second floor. The former mercenary let the torch drop. They were gaining on him. He had out maneuvered them until now, but his luck was running out. He blew past three men on the steps and caught them all with his sword. He faded in and out of view, pulling up any elven magic he could to assist him. It was minimal and cut out quickly, but it had allowed him to take out those three before they could figure out who or what he was.

         Fallon rushed down the stone hallway, his black cloak billowing out behind him. His footsteps thudded on the hard floor and his breathing was heavy, yet measured. Sweat beaded and dripped down his forehead. The mercenary’s face itched where the sweat became caught in his scruff. He slowed. Ventris and Kole should be almost finished evacuating. They should be almost clear of the walls by now.
         Fallon arrived at the steps leading down to the courtyard and took them, skipping steps on the way down. He had almost forgotten again how much faster he could be without his iron lined boots. He had been wearing them for so long again and his legs burned. A loud thud sounded as he skipped the last four steps and landed on the dirt. Yelling caught his attention and he swung his head to the right. The remaining mercenaries, mostly pure blooded elves, were closing the gates to shut him and his men in. Taking off at a full sprint, the king flew over the ground. Perspiration stung his eyes, but he ignored it.

         One younger man ran toward him with a long knife. Fallon did not unsheath his blade, but knocked him aside with the back of his gauntlet. The sharp edge out of the way, he turned his wrist to grab the elf’s forearm, throwing him to the side, into a large stack of boxes. A sickening crunch sounded as the young man hit the metal frame that reinforced one of the boxes head first. As if someone had whispered into his ear, Fallon suddenly changed direction. In his haste, he hadn't noticed the boxes. However, the other man’s demise revealed a better plan than what he had previously come up with. There was no chance he could fight through this many elves alone.

         A moment later, he was leaping up the stack and pulling himself up over the railing to the second level. Finding handholds, he climbed the stone, to the third level. An arrow grazed his cheek as he swung over the railing and dove behind the thick stone wall. Again, he raced down the corridor. His breathing was becoming labored and he could feel the blood dripping from his face, just beneath his right eye. With his forearm, he wiped away the trickle and swallowed hard. In a moment, he reached the commander’s room and threw himself against the door. In desperation, he called upon the blessing of Kezna, unsure if it could affect anything not made of flesh and blood. As if responding to his frantic, silent plea, the wood that made up the door exploded in toward the desk the instant his shoulder made contact the second time. Splintered wood littered the room and his ears rang from the incredible boom that sounded when the barrier shattered. His gift had blown it apart. He would have felt invincible had he the time to stop and consider the implications of what he had just done. However, even as the thought occurred, the sounds of boots on stone and yelling echoed in the hall outside the room. He was almost there. The hidden window in the wall. It would be blocked by stone on the outside ever since Kikarii had been rescued, but now his faint hope had been strengthened.

         The half-breed king focused again, his eyes burning bright red, as he vaulted over the large wooden desk. A moment before he reached the wall, the rock seemed to almost vanish. As if delayed, the side of the room blew out and then came the deafening boom that made his ears ache and his head throb. An instant later, he threw himself from the jagged opening and fell. A silent scream tore at his mind. He was going to die.