A New Reign Page 9

  “Even if these Acedens don’t slaughter aimlessly, you’d still be giving them your country. You’d be trading everything for this patch of rocks. And then what? We’d be trapped here, starved out or slowly whittled down. The Acedens want you to do this. It was foolish of Darius to do that for Morven and you’re going to take the same gamble? He at least had the time, resources, and numbers on his side, but he left his country open and undefended. This rebellion will crush you, your army, and your country in one blow, all in this conveniently disguised—”

  “Shithole,” interrupted Silas. Cain paused and the group turned to him, puzzled. He gave a big shrug. “Just saying. Cram your entire bloody army inside these cliffs with no way out but a storeroom door as tens of thousands of rebels close in to kill us all … well, doesn’t exactly sound like a fun time.”

  Cain turned to the king. “Right. You’re placing all your hopes on surviving a siege, if they even choose to attack here. They could decide to ravage your country while you’re besieged inside these walls. If you are wrong and we lose this place, then your country falls, and so too may the Alliance!”

  Branim slammed a fist on the cart. “What would you have me do, damn it! My kingdom is under civil war, burning in its own ashes! I cannot sit on idle hands and watch it wither around me, I must do what I can. We may not defeat them now, but I swear to you, we will destroy them. I will not argue this point further, Cain Taran. Do not forget that you are a guest in my hall.”

  Cain sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The more he was around kings the more they dug under his skin. “What do you need from us then?”

  “I will need you and your friends to help in summoning reinforcements. One of my greatest generals, Moran Regulus, is trapped inside a fort with his army. An estimated ten thousand Acedens besiege Hesed, and I haven’t had luck getting through them. I’ll need you Warriors to lead an army to Hesed, defeat the Aceden force, and rescue my general. With Moran and his cavalry at our side, and an estimated twenty thousand that will come to us from across the country, then we’ll have enough men to withstand a siege and defeat the Acedens.”

  Cain looked over the map for a moment. “You are confident that the Acedens will attack Brunein?”

  Branim returned his gaze. “Yes. Of that, I am sure.”

  “Then we’ll need more men, and fast. How many can you spare for Hesed?”

  “Three thousand, maybe more. I can’t risk sending too many if the Acedens decide to attack Brunein earlier than anticipated. I’ve already sent out a thousand men across the country to summon my troops.”

  “And where did you send these messengers?”

  “Everywhere. Mostly to nearby towns and outposts.”

  “We need more men than what they’ll provide us. We’ll need to go farther out. Tell me, where would your largest garrison be located?”

  Branim thought on this. “Killu and Galenth. Both had large garrisons before the rebellion, but I don’t see why that matters. They’re both deep in enemy territory now.”

  “It matters because you won’t get enough soldiers by just looking within your reach. You’ll have to stretch far to find enough men.”

  “But those cities may be under Aceden control. I haven’t heard from either garrison since the rebellion began.”

  “It sounds like you haven’t heard from most places. Both cities had large garrisons, they could’ve been strong enough to fend off the enemy, no?”

  Aren stepped up beside Cain. “He has a point. The Acedens are likely just as spread out as we are if they’re able to attack so many places so quickly. They may not have been able to gather a large enough force to take Galenth and Killu yet.

  “We’ll need to reach out across the entire country to assemble enough men who are still on our side. And, looking at your map, it seems Galenth and Killu are both within a short distance from the Eraeos. We can sail up the river, collect troops along the way, and then check on the cities to see if their garrisons are still holding out.”

  Branim nodded, thinking for a time. “That could work. It’s risky though, I’d be sending thousands of my troops deep within enemy territory, with no guarantee that they’ll find reinforcements.”

  “Pardon,” Aren said, “but it’d be no riskier than cramming your entire army into this fortress to fight a siege that we’re not sure will even come.”

  Branim laughed his deep laugh. “You Warriors are relentless. Very well, you’ve persuaded me. I will send some of you to Hesed to rescue my general. The others will sail up the Eraeos, gather men along the way, and report to Galenth and Killu to see if we still hold them. I’ll send a forward assault unit ahead of you to scout your way up the river.”

  Cain hated this entire situation. Thrust in the middle of a civil war with no way out. Still, he was here whether he liked it or not, and he had a duty to protect his friends and his men. He’d already gotten many of them killed, including Joshua. This rebellion was dangerous, and he’d do whatever it took to take them down. He’d do it for the men he’d lost, for Tarsha, for Joshua.

  Cain accepted the king’s handshake. “We’ll do this for your people, and for the Alliance. We’ll fight this rebellion. And we will win.”

  Separate Paths

  Cain watched the rain patter against the window panes and listened to the dying crackle of the nearby hearth. He took a final gulp from his goblet of mead and sighed.

  The small weight of a hand settled on his shoulder. He looked down to see Adriel who smiled before sitting in a nearby chair.

  Cain looked over to the others still asleep in their hard barrack beds. “Adriel, I’ve been a soldier for over ten years. I’ve followed my orders and obeyed my leaders without second thought. But this? This feels so—”

  “Fruitless?” she offered.

  “Aye. We could be back with the Alliance, making a difference. Yet here we are, fighting a damned civil war. Why?”

  Adriel brushed the hair from her eyes. “We can do some good here. We can get Inveira’s support of the Alliance. We’ll finally be unified in our fight, strong enough to march up to Abaddon’s door. There’s a reason we’re here, Cain. Don’t give up on fate.”

  “I already have,” Cain said. “How can you believe in such a thing as fate when there’s so much death in the world? Four hundred years of it—you tell me that’s not enough to make a man lose hope.”

  “Then why do you fight?”

  Why did he fight? Did he believe in this Alliance and what it represented? Did he fight to protect the innocent? Or was it something else, something deep within that he was scared to admit even to himself.

  He was lost.

  “Because it’s all I know, all any of us really know. What can I do if I don’t fight? Sit by and wait to die?”

  Adriel pursed her lips. “Well, I haven’t given up. There has to be a reason for all of this.”

  Cain looked at the woman for a moment. “There’s a reason for Malecai’s death? For Joshua’s? You believe their fates were sealed? Think what you want, but I won’t believe in such a thing.”

  Adriel frowned. The gray of the outside light accentuated the smooth curves of her face. “The world may be a cruel place, but it’s also a beautiful one. Joshua died for the hope of peace that in your heart you know you believe in.”

  “I’m not sure I believe in anything anymore.”

  Adriel smirked. “I won’t give up on you.”

  Cain passed a hand through his hair before standing. “Come on, we best get going.” Together, they woke the others.

  “Cain, we can still leave,” Silas started as he pulled on his boots. “This plan of Branim’s is stupid, he’ll just get us all killed. If we leave now—”

  “We’ve already discussed this. At length.” Indeed, they had. Nearly the entire night, and with more than a few shouts and curses.

  “Listen to me, you said it yourself that this plan is too close to what happened at Morven. We barely survived that. And now our enemy is other men, peop
le who aren’t afraid to kill their brothers. They’ll burn down their whole damn country before they bother killing us.”

  Cain considered his friend. Rarely was Silas so … reasonable. It sounded like he was truly earnest. “I never said I didn’t agree with you, Silas.”

  “Then why in Brynden’s beard are we here?” He stood up, voice hot.

  Cain glanced at Adriel. “Inveira could burn without us. We’ll lose their aid, and then we’ll lose the war. But most importantly, someone needs to help the innocent people caught in the middle of this mess.

  “For too long we’ve fought this war divided and alone. It’s time to stand up for each other. We won’t let Inveira fall because, damn it, it’s the right thing to do. Deep down, you know it, Silas.” He exchanged a small smile with Adriel.

  Silas sat back down on the bed with a curse. He shook his head, sitting in silence for a moment. He then stood and grabbed Sitare. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  The group ate a quick breakfast, donned their armor, buckled their weapons, and shouldered their packs before stepping out the door.

  They entered the early morning amid the steady drizzle and crossed the second floor to the storeroom. They soon reached a wall of soldiers standing like ghouls in the gray rainfall.

  King Branim approached and hailed them with an inviting flourish. “Good morning, Warriors,” he greeted, shaking each of their hands in turn. “I take it you slept well?” He waved for them to follow and entered the storeroom. He waved a hand and soldiers leapt forward to shove aside the storage at the far end of the room. The inconspicuous door awaited, its rotting wood held closed by hinges long since coated in a thick patina.

  Branim drew a key from the folds of his cloak and slipped it into the rusted keyhole. He turned the key with a clank of iron and pulled the door open.

  “As we’ve discussed, Isroc and Silas will take three thousand men to rescue my trapped cavalry at Hesed. Aren, Cain and Adriel, you will take your Alliance and three thousand of my men up the Eraeos and gather the garrisons stationed in Galenth and Killu. I have a fleet of transports awaiting you at the docks; Valerik Elric has volunteered to be your guide. Any questions? Good. Bring my troops back to me. We will gather at Brunein to stand against these traitors. May your blades be swift and true.” Branim bid them farewell and retreated up the stairs. Soldiers soon appeared, filling the room as they filed into formation.

  “Well, this is it,” Isroc began.

  “We’ve never split paths before,” Silas murmured.

  Cain nodded. “Aye, but we’ll see each other again.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “We will.” Cain rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll see each other soon enough. Just try not to get yourself killed.”

  Silas gave a nervous laugh. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Cain forced a laugh and embraced his friend. “We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  Isroc stepped forward and shook their hands. He then beckoned his men to follow and approached the narrow tunnel mouth. He looked over his friends and smiled. “See you on the other side.” He then turned and stepped into darkness, Silas trailing after him.

  Three thousand men trudged through the muddy slurry of a road, the trees around them whispering in the rhythm of the rain.

  Isroc looked up at the cloudy sky and smiled despite the chill.

  It felt good to be leading soldiers again. His father being a general, he had practically been born with a spear in his hand and groomed to one day take command of the West Riders. The most famous cavalry in all of Tarsha, he had dreamed for so long about leading them. Now that his father was likely dead—just thinking about that stung—was he now in command? It didn’t feel as sweet as he’d thought it would.

  Thinking about his father’s possible fate was painful. He had raised Isroc, the only family he’d ever known. Sure, he had had a step mother and servants, but his father was the only one who’d been there for him. Could he really be dead?

  Isroc shook his head, banishing those dark thoughts. He had soldiers to think about. They depended on him. And, in a way, he depended on them. He never felt more alive than when he held a spear in formation, facing down impossible odds.

  That’s what they were doing here. The impossible.

  Fighting a civil war for a foreign country that wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world. Rebels around every corner, thousands of them, maybe even tens of thousands. Not to mention that without that black armor they’d have no idea what side anyone was on. By the Towers, there could even be rebels among them now! How did anyone manage to fight each other before Abaddon came around? What a mess!

  “I’ve been thinking,” Silas announced into the stillness.

  Isroc stirred from his thoughts. “That’s a good start.”

  “Why did King Branim only send three thousand men with us?”

  “You were wondering that too?” He narrowed his eyes as he watched the road ahead. “He gives Cain three thousand men to sit on ships for a month—simply to recruit more troops—yet he sends us out to defeat a siege. Surely he could have spared a few more men. Didn’t you see all of those soldiers just sitting around?”

  “Aye. Playing cards, tossing dice, eating an actual breakfast. The lucky bastards.”

  “How does Branim expect us to break the Aceden siege with so few men? His latest scout reports number the enemy at ten thousand now!”

  “Smells like bullshit to me,” Silas said.

  “It does, doesn’t it? Something’s off here, I just don’t know what.”

  Isroc turned back to the road, narrowing his eyes. Something hung from the trees ahead. He threw up a hand and the army slowed to a stop behind him. Isroc waved for Silas and approached the bend in the road, a group of officers clanking after them.

  Isroc cursed as he realized what it was. A man hung suspended from his neck by rope. His Inveiran mails and leathers were sodden, his skin stiff and gray. Black arrows pierced through his eyes.

  Isroc waved his hand in a circle and several soldiers trotted off through the trees to form a perimeter. He looked around the bend in the road. A soldier hung from a tree every few yards with black arrows in his eye sockets. Silas stepped toward the body and gazed up at the arrows.

  Isroc frowned at the Inveiran officers. “Does anyone know what happened here?” The men mumbled to each other. “I need to know if I’m to keep this shit from happening to us,” he pointed to the dead man swinging in the breeze.

  One of the officers stepped forward. “Sirs, if I may. These are the Black Arrow’s hunting grounds.”

  Silas’ eyes flashed wide. He rushed past Isroc and gripped the soldier’s arms. “What did you say?”

  “The… the Black Arrow.”

  “Who? Who is he?”

  The officer pulled free of Silas’ grasp. “No one knows. The only ones who have seen him are corpses. He roams the woods like a wolf seeking his prey. Once he chooses a victim, well… there’s no escaping your fate.”

  Isroc grunted. “Save your stories, soldier.”

  “They’re not stories, sir,” another man said. “He’s haunted Inveira for years. He stalks the roads, killing merchants, soldiers, travelers. No one knows why he kills them. We’ve closed entire roads because of him, abandoned entire towns. Every day we find more bodies, and more black arrows.”

  Isroc pulled the body around to examine the long shafts and sleek black feathers. Should he worry about this new threat? Could he even do anything about it if he tried? “They call him the Black Arrow? Creative. Thank you for the warning, soldier.” Isroc waved a hand and walked down the road. He paused. “Take the bodies down. We’ll bury them when we stop for the night. Now, let’s move.”

  The Alliance remained motionless. Isroc stopped and glared at the army. “That is an order!” His soldiers made no attempts follow.

  Isroc crossed his arms. He really did have a tenuous hold over these men. Their king gave h
im command over them, but he was still just an Eriasan in their eyes. Hopefully they would follow his orders in battle, or things could get nasty.

  Silas stopped at his side. “The Black Arrow killed my brother.”

  Well, that complicates things, Isroc thought.

  “We stay on the road,” Isroc replied. “Time is crucial here. Let’s go!” At this, his men cut down the unfortunate scout and placed his body in a cart. In moments, they were back to their march, and moving at a considerably quicker pace.

  Silas sneered, watching the corpses swing in the wind. “He’s real. He killed Joshua. And I will kill him.”

  Two days later, the Alliance set camp in a knot of hills. Isroc settled back against a tree trunk and sunk his teeth into an oat cake. All in all, these last two days had been good. No signs of the enemy, no scouts reported. Nothing. It was almost too quiet.

  Several scouts in light leathers sprinted through the camp, weaving between groups of men erecting tents. One of them skidded to a stop before Isroc and Silas, breathing heavy.

  “What is it, soldier?” Isroc asked, leaping up. Of course, the quiet never lasted long.

  “Hesed lies not far ahead,” the scout panted, saluting. “The Acedens besiege it as we speak.”

  “Were you able to get close enough for a count?”

  “Yes, it looks like two different camps, maybe five thousand each.”

  “Good work. Alert the officers to prepare for battle. We’ll return by sunrise.” The soldier saluted again and ran off as Isroc stuffed the remains of his evening meal into his mouth. He stood and nodded at Silas, and together the two followed the other scouts out of the camp and into the surrounding trees.

  They continued through the forest for a while until the trees came to an end at the edge of a cragged cliff.

  They were atop a valley wall, its sheer rock face stretching down well over a hundred feet. Hesed nestled below in the middle of the wide valley.