Soul Blade, page 12
part #3 of Sword of Light Series
Eric swallowed, the big man’s words slicing through his bravado. Beneath them the men were closing on the wall, and now their shouts and curses carried up to them. He spotted a dozen ladders amongst their ranks and cast a nervous glance at Alan.
Along the wall the first volley of arrows rose into the sky and plunged down into the enemy. Dozens fell but the rest came on, fresh men quickly taking the place of the fallen.
Alan pulled him back as the enemy returned fire. Their arrows clanged on stone as they retreated below the crenulations. A few seconds later there came a crash as the first ladder struck the wall. Eric made to grab for it but the larger man held him back.
“Don’t bother. There’s already enough weight on that thing that neither you nor I have the strength to push it back,” he reached down and removed a length of rope from his belt.
Before Eric could ask its purpose he tossed the looped end over the top of the ladder and moved to the side. Flashing Eric another grin, he gave two massive heaves on the rope. On the third pull the ladder shifted, the wood scraping on the rock as it slid across the battlements. Then suddenly it was gone, disappearing sideways as it toppled back to the ground. Screams carried up to them as the climbers fell.
Puffing slightly, Alan returned to his station. “That’s how you do it,” he answered the unspoken question. “Though soon they’ll be coming too quick and fast to have time for that.”
Even so, Alan managed to dislodge two more ladders before the first of the enemy reached them. Eric shuddered as he imagined the slaughter below as the enemy waited to gain a foothold atop the wall. The walls of the fortress curved in towards the keep, leaving the men below exposed on all sides to the defenders’ arrows.
But then there was no more time to think of those below. Summoning his courage, he leapt to aid the aging warrior as the first of the enemy reached the battlements. Not that Alan showed any sign of his years.
As the first man leapt from a ladder and sprang across the crenulations, Alan surged forwards. Their foe hardly had time to raise his sword before kanker struck, smashing in his chest with a sickening crunch. The man collapsed to the cold stone, blood bubbling from his mouth to stain the snow.
Eric shuddered at his fate, but there was little time to spare the man a second thought. Another ladder crashed onto the stone beside him and he forced himself to focus on the battle. Crouching low in the forward stance Caelin had shown him so long ago, he waited, the Sword of Light poised to strike.
His first opponent surged into view, rolling across the stone to land on his feet in a single movement. His sword was already in motion as Eric stepped up to meet him, arcing towards his head. Instinct alone saved him, the Sword sweeping up to deflect the blow as though directed by a mind of its own. Then he was moving, stepping sideways to avoid the next attack and slicing out with the Sword in a clumsy strike.
The warrior laughed as he deflected the blow, then his eyes widened. Eric stumbled back as the man crumpled, the back of his helmet caved in by a casual sweep of Alan’s hammer. The big man nodded in Eric’s direction and then turned back to his ladder.
Returning to his position, Eric took a deep breath, then threw himself at the next enemy to appear. This time he was prepared, and his blade caught the attacker in the chest before he could even raise his weapon.
As he fell, Eric caught the sound of a boot on stone and spun, deflecting the sword of another attacker. The defender to Eric’s left lay dead, the ladder beside him unguarded. A second attacker was already clambering onto the ramparts, but Eric had no time to act. The warrior facing him growled and surged toward him.
Eric slid backwards, using a forward stance to maintain his balance, and caught the blow on the hilt of the Sword. Teeth gritted, he pushed forward so their blades locked together, leaving them face to face, each straining to overpower the other. Despite his small size, Eric remembered Caelin’s training and came in low, using his lower centre to push the man off balance.
The man cursed and retreated back a step, then cried out as he tripped against the edge of the crenulations. The man’s arms windmilled as he fought to regain his balance. Seeing his chance, Eric quickly stepped up and kicked him in the chest. The man topped backwards off the wall and vanished from view.
Taking a breath, Eric stepped back and turned where the man had forced his way through their defences, but reinforcements had already plugged the gap.
Gasping in the cold air, he struggled to hold down the sickness of utter exhaustion. His vision swirled and he stumbled for a second. Only a few minutes of battle had passed, and he was shocked by the fatigue already gripping him.
But still the enemy came on, clambering up the ladders in an endless tide. Eric straightened as the next appeared. Panting, he allowed the man to come to him now, hoping the Sword of Light’s long reach would give him an advantage against the man’s axe.
The axeman grinned as he dropped to the walkway, seeing only an exhausted boy opposing him. Eric swallowed and gripped the Sword tighter, prepared to summon its magic if necessary. The screams of the dying came from all around, but Eric’s vision narrowed now to a single point, focused only on the axeman. He glimpsed the slightest movement of the man’s boot and leapt forward, even as the man raised his axe and charged.
The man’s eyes widened as the Sword of Light lanced up into his unprotected chest. The axe clattered to the pavement as Eric pulled back his blade, allowing the man to topple to the ground. His blood streamed across the snow, one more body to add to the mounting pile atop the wall.
“That was well done,” Alan observed. “Told you I saw a fighter in you, sonny.”
Eric nodded back, unable to find the breath to reply. He could not begin to understand how men fought for hours in battle.
Alan laughed at the expression on Eric’s face and stepped back from the edge, allowing other men to take his place. “Rest, sonny, you’ve earned a break. The reinforcements have arrived,” he gestured with his hammer to indicate the stream of men now bolstering their ranks.
Looking around, Eric felt a wave of relief to see their forces holding strong. The defenders were disciplined and well-armed, waiting out of sight of the archers below before dispatching the enemy as they reached the top.
“They won’t take the outer wall today,” Alan observed. “We’re still fresh; it’ll take a few more days to wear us down.”
“How long do you think we have?” Eric asked over the ring of steel, staring at the mounting dead.
Despite their advantage atop the wall, Eric counted far too many of their own amongst the dead. From what he’d seen the day before, the enemy numbered in the tens of thousands. Fort Fall only had a thousand defenders; they could not afford to lose a single soul.
“A few days, a week. It depends how often they attack and when the reinforcements arrive. So far we’ve been lucky. They’ve only launched a handful of assaults each day. But they’re just probes, from what I’ve seen. When the real assault begins, we’ll struggle to find time for a jug of ale between the fighting.”
Eric swallowed. He was about to reply when a roar came from behind them. The hairs on Eric’s neck prickled with warning as Alan swore. Spinning, Eric raised the Sword of Light and reached for its magic, ready to unleash it against whatever foul creature Archon had sent.
Instead, he found himself staring in wonder as gold dragons dropped from the southern sky. He lowered the Sword of Light and released its power, watching as the beasts swept past and dove towards their foes.
Below the enemy had also seen the beasts, though they seemed unsure of their allegiance. The uncertainty did not last long. As one the dragons turned in the sky and roared. Columns of fire erupted from their massive jaws, streaming down to burn through the massed ranks below. A barrage of arrows followed, and Eric saw that men and women in Plorsean green clung to the dragons’ backs.
Alan and Eric moved to the edge of the wall and stared down at the devastation. The enemy were in full flight, the flames dancing amongst them like a living thing. Streaks of black marked the land below, growing as the flames spread through the black-garbed ranks.
Atop the wall, the defenders burst into applause, cheering as the dragons swept by for another pass. Men embraced, their eyes lit by the glow of hope.
As the last of the attackers vanished into the snow, the dragons swung around and headed back towards the land south of the fortress. All but one. Overhead the crack of wings drew Eric’s eyes up, catching on the descending dragon. Somehow he knew the dragon, though it had been many long weeks since Malevolent Cove.
Eric, my eyes did not deceive me¸ he heard Enduran’s voice in his head.
Grinning, Eric sheathed the Sword of Light and raised his arm in greeting. His heart surged at the sight of the familiar dragon, already seeing the happiness on Enala’s face when she heard the news. Around him the soldiers retreated to make room for the dragon. With casual ease the great body settled on the battlements, its golden tale draping over the edge like a discarded cloak.
Folding his wings, Enduran lowered his head to inspect Eric. You are looking well, little one. Your power has grown, a rumble rose from Enduran’s chest and Eric recognised the sound as laughter. Yes, yes, get down then, the dragon eyed Eric. I believe you know my passengers.
Eric’s eyes slid to the figures who sat atop the dragon’s back. One was already sliding down the dragon’s side, clambering onto its knee and then dropping to the battlements.
Eric glimpsed a flash of scarlet hair and a long bow clenched in a pale fist. Then he was moving, racing across the short distance between them, his eyes blind to everything but the woman’s face. The icy stone slid beneath his feet but he did not slow. He watched as she turned and her eyes found his, and he knew he was right.
Inken managed two steps before he reached her, his arms wrapping around her, drawing her to him. Her lips pushed against his and warmth surged through his chest. Her body pressed against him, her fingers twining in his hair, her tongue dancing with his to a music only they could hear.
They clutched each other close, as though they would never let go, as though their very lives depended on it.
And in Eric’s mind, a single word repeated itself, over and over.
Hope.
Twelve
Inken lay on the soft bed, eyes closed, listening to the gentle in, out of Eric’s breath. Reaching down, she entwined her fingers with his and felt a gentle squeeze in return. She smiled, a tingling warmth spreading from her heart to her head, washing away all thought of the world outside.
It didn’t matter. Tonight was theirs and the world could wait until the light of morning. For now, she wanted nothing more than to lie there with Eric and enjoy the miracle of their reunion.
Eric gave her fingers another squeeze and she looked over to see his blue eyes on her. Reaching over, she ran a hand across his brow and up through his hair. He closed his eyes, the creases of worry falling from his face.
“You’re awake,” she breathed.
Their only light came from the dying embers of the fire, though with Eric beside her the darkness no longer held the same terror. Even so, she would have to get up and add more wood soon. A storm had descended over the fortress and the temperature had plummeted.
“I am,” he smiled. “Sorry I drifted off. It was… a long day before you arrived.”
“From what I hear, you fought well,” she leaned across and kissed him. “Caelin taught you well.”
A shadow passed across Eric’s face as she pulled away. “It was not the first time I’ve had to fight since...” he shook his head. “So much has happened… since I left you.”
“You did not leave me, Eric. You did what you had to do. We all did,” she embraced him. “You cannot second guess what happened. It was the only way. If you had not run with Enala, none of us would be here right now.”
A tear spilt down Eric’s cheek but he nodded. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“Agreed,” Inken shuddered, then pressed the memories down. There was no place for sorrow now. Grinning, she gave Eric a jab in the side. “So, how did you end up being the one wielding the Sword of Light?” she nodded to the blade leaning against the foot of the bed.
Laughing, Eric grabbed her hand and pulled her close. Before she could squirm free, his fingers began to tickle her side and she burst into laughter. “Stop!” she gasped.
Eric refused to relent until there were breathless tears in her eyes. He grinned at her, his smile infectious. “You’ll pay for that,” she threatened.
Eric only laughed. Finally he took a deep breath and answered her question. “Enala… is my sister. Antonia showed me a vision, from her prison within the Soul Blade. Enala and I are twins, but Aria’s descendants took on a tradition of separating siblings at birth, so our family would survive even if Archon’s hunters found them. Who knows how many other descendants of Aria there are now, lost on secret branches of our family.”
Inken’s eyes widened and her hand drifted to her stomach. She could not imagine the strength it must have taken Eric’s parents to give up their child. It had only been three days since Enduran had broken the news to her, but even so…
Fortunately Eric did not notice her unconscious gesture. She had not told him yet, though she could not explain her hesitation.
“Incredible,” she whispered, then hesitated. “What… what is it like, the Sword?”
Eric shook his head and she saw a shadow cross his face. “It’s… like my own magic, but stronger, fiercer. It fights me every time I use it, flooding me with its power, searching for a weakness. Only my own magic keeps it in check.”
Inken shuddered. Eric had already told her what had happened to Enala. It seemed clear to her that the powers of the Gods were not meant for mortals. It terrified her to imagine Eric lost to the Sword’s magic; that it might burn away his soul and reduce him to an empty shell. She remembered the demon Thomas had become, the empty darkness in his eyes, and prayed Eric had the strength to resist the pull of the Sword.
“What about you?” Eric interrupted her thoughts. “What happened to you and the others?”
Inken bit her lip, staring up at the stone ceiling. Memories raced through her mind and it was a minute before she found her voice. Eric’s eyes did not leave her face as she recalled their escape from Sitton and their strange reception by the king in Ardath, nor as she spoke of the arrival of the gold dragons.
But as she spoke of their imprisonment in the black cells beneath the lake city, he reached across and drew her into his arms. She cracked then, the tears coming hot and fast as she struggled for breath. A groan rose in her throat and she sobbed in his arms, the horror of the darkness returning. The fear came rushing back, the helpless terror of their imprisonment.
Eric rubbed her back, his silent presence giving her comfort, and slowly her sobs subsided. At last Inken drew in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. She flashed Eric a smile, giving him her silent thanks.
“I’m here, Inken,” Eric smiled back. “I won’t leave again.”
Inken suppressed another sob, still trying to get a hold of her emotions. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I… I’ve never felt so helpless.”
Eric squeezed her arm but said nothing.
Together they lay back on the bed and held each other close. Inken rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart and feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
Closing her eyes, Inken released her fear. The painful throb of her heart slowed and exhaustion spread through her aching limbs. She fought the lure of sleep, unwilling to let the moment slip away. But its call was irresistible and within minutes she had slipped into a dreamless slumber.
*************
Gabriel could not keep himself from staring, still unable to believe his eyes. Enala sat across the table from him, her blond hair aglow in the light of the torches. Her single lock of scarlet hair drooped lazily across her face, begging him to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. He resisted, contenting himself to watch her eyes as she recounted her journey with Eric.
It was late now and the dining hall was all but empty, the other benches and tables vacant but for a few stragglers. He had hardly noticed the others leaving the hall, so intent had they been on their conversation.
Even the voice in his head had quieted, reduced to faint whispers in the back of his mind.
He shivered though at Enala’s tale. It seemed her journey had taken her through more strife than even their own ordeal. She had almost died a dozen times. He could hardly believe her courage to sit here now, ready to face the might of Archon and his armies.
Most surprising of all, she now possessed magic. He would not have believed it had she not shown him, had he not seen it with his own eyes.
Now her voice shook as she described falling under the spell of the Soul Blade’s power. Silently he reached across the table and grasped her hand. She broke off her story and gave a soft smile, squeezing his fingers tight.
“Thank you, Gabriel,” she breathed.
He smiled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he paused, struggling to get the next words out. “I’m glad Eric was there for you though, truly,” it surprised him to realise it was the truth.
Enala let out a long breath. “He’s my brother, Gabriel. My twin.”
Gabriel was surprised to find himself smiling, sharing in the joy on Enala’s face. It warmed him to hear she had found family, even after the tragedy that had befallen her parents. Then sadness touched him as an image of his own parents and fiancée drifted through his thoughts.
Revenge, the angry whisper rose from the back of his mind.
He shook it off, ignoring the voice and looking back to Enala. “What happens now then, with Eric wielding the Sword? Will you leave, now that it is no longer your ‘destiny’?”
“No,” Enala sighed. “No, I think I have a different ‘destiny’ now. If they cannot free the Gods from the Soul Blades, it may…” her voice broke and she shook her head, unable to finish.
