Cold From The North, page 34
part #1 of The Onyxborn Chronicles Series
‘I know he will, and I can only hope he feels the same.’
‘So, what now?’ Melcun said, dusting his trousers down.
‘Well, now we get Feda to save us somehow.’
‘Still no idea how?’ Melcun asked, pulling his lips to the side.
‘Not in the slightest. But I am hoping she has some idea – and now that she has the axe, who knows what she has to do to call on its powers. I suppose we should start as soon as we can. And you, what’s next, o wise sorcerer?’ Ogulf did his best to let a jovial tone carry in his words but he knew deep down the words sounded as dead as the corpses below him looked.
‘Find out how I get stronger to stop this–’ He gestured towards the carnage of the causeway. ‘–From happening again.’
Just as Ogulf opened his mouth to speak, a call came from under them. It came from a young boy, who could have been no older than fifteen. His hair was stuck to his forehead and he had bloodstains on his cheeks. He was smiling. ‘We’ve caught him. We’ve caught Eryc!’ he shouted. ‘Gods be good, we’ve caught the traitor.’
‘Let’s go to Feda,’ Ogulf said. Melcun nodded.
Both men meandered down the steps. Ogulf felt his knee crack every time he moved it, and his blocked, broken nose was making it more difficult for him to breathe. He had missed the aches that followed a battle, that was something he wouldn’t deny, but at the same time, he hadn’t felt the sting like this before; his body felt defeated, not victorious.
Wincing down the steps, he looked at the dead strewn across the cobbles at the Inner Circle gate. There would be many more scenes like this in the days, weeks, and months ahead. For now, he had to rest and focus on the most important part of the journey, finding out how to save the realm from the Onyxborn and the Order of Maledict.
Chapter 38
King Nadreth had not moved from Nevea’s bedside for the last three days. Almost immediately after the incredible showing of strength on the beach of Port Saker, she had fallen into a deep sleep. The physicians had said she was stable, but Nadreth wanted to be around her, to ensure her safety and to pray to Loken that she would recover.
The men of Nadreth’s army had still been cheering when the young sorceress fell to her knees. He had caught her and carried her to his tent. One of his confidants, an old mystic named Baliq, said this was commonplace for a mage to be weakened after a feat of strength like that. She didn’t have a Peak of Influence to draw from, so her internal power had all but been expended. If she had used any more power, she might have died.
The king received regular updates from General Hassit while he kept vigil at Nevea’s bedside. The production of the ships was moving faster than they had expected. The men were spurred on by the sorceress’s sinking of the enemy boats on the Blades. More and more men had also found their way to Port Saker. Their full force had almost arrived and there were enough men to overthrow the world twice over. It would take a number of trips to transport them all to the Shingal, but that was a risk they would be willing to take.
Nadreth watched as Nevea’s chest rose and fell slowly. What she had done had been truly incredible – it was more power than he could have dreamed of and it had not even been a slither of what she would be capable of once the prophecy was fulfilled.
The sound outside the tent was a mixture of hammer falls, shouts, and wind. The weather had been kind to them today, and though it was far from warm, the bite of the cold was nowhere to be felt. Breaking through the usual chorus of sounds, Nadreth heard footsteps pacing towards his tent from outside. He had held council with General Hassit no more than half an hour before and told his man not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary. Agitation grew inside Nadreth as the steps drew closer.
‘My king.’ It was General Hassit.
‘I told you I was not to be disturbed.’
‘Apologies, my king, but we have discovered a Shingally soldier. He has requested an audience with you.’
‘Have they attempted to cross the Blades?’
‘No, my lord, this one came alone on a rowboat.’
‘Bring him in.’
Nadreth watched as the flaps of his tent opened and the man was dragged in, the arm of a brawny Order soldier hooked through each of his. The man’s hands were tied with rope. He was unassuming, not tall and rather homely looking, but the size of the hawk emblem on his chest suggested he was an officer in the Shingally army. First, his eyes went to Nadreth, and then they went to Nevea, sleeping on the bed.
‘You requested an audience with me. We are not accepting surrenders, so make this quick and I will request the same of my axeman. Waste my time, and I will see to it you die one month from now but feel pain every second until then,’ Nadreth said. The man’s eyes snapped back to the king’s.
‘I do not wish to surrender,’ the man said.
‘With that, you have earned yourself a quick death,’ Nadreth said, turning back to Nevea. The men began to restrain him and turn him toward the flaps to leave the tent.
‘My king.’ He fought against the men trying to turn him away and to the outside. The king looked at the man, nodding slightly to indicate he would listen. The strong soldiers straightened the man in front of Nadreth. ‘It is an honour to meet you. My name is Lixan Richel. I am a captain in the army of the Shingally Kingdom. I wish to defect and pledge allegiance to your cause.’
Acknowledgements
To my incredible wife - You read this novel even though you didn't have to, you supported me more than I can say and without you this would have never happened.
To my beta readers - Sean, Duncan, Callum and Simon. Thank you for helping me find the confidence in this story, for your suggestions on tweaks and for telling me the bits that were garbage. Oh, and don’t forget pointing out all the typos.
To Duncan Fyfe - you helped me bring my world to life in one piece of art. Without you, characters like Ogulf and the Grim Knight wouldn't exist the way they do.
To my family - your encouragement means everything.
To my Papa Kenzie - Thanks for showing me just how great books can be.
To Scott - you helped me turn my life around, without those first steps I never would have come so far.
To Cherie - You took my baseless idea and turned it into the cover, I am eternally grateful.
To Kits - Thanks for making my words good and polishing what was definitely a turd.
To Jordan and Chris Byrne - Thanks for helping me get Gelenea on the map...
To Stu and Ryan - Your contributions and influences set the first flame.
To everyone else who has supported me, a man on a journey to write a story, thank you.
About D.W. Ross
I wish I could talk about my previous work or education in literature but in truth there is nothing to say on those fronts. I was simply a man with a vivid imagination who was plunged into the chaotic and exciting world of Dungeons and Dragons who let a character's backstory get out of hand.
Now, when not working my day job, I can be found...writing. The good news for anyone who enjoyed this story is that it is part one of a trilogy. Terrible news for anyone who hated every word and wishes I would stop.
On a serious note, I can be found spending time with my wife, watching wrestling, eating too much food, throwing weights around my garage or watching the Houston Texans as they break my heart over and over.
The Darkness of Dusk - An Onyxborn Chronicle will be out in 2021
D. W. Ross, Cold From The North
