Siege of Night (13 page)

But of all the anguish he had been forced to endure during a time filled with endless trials, none bit deeper into his heart than the loss of Morcel. The man had given his own life just so Eric had the chance to escape. At the time, Eric’s importance was really an unknown—Eric still wasn’t convinced of his importance then. But Morcel didn’t see it that way and made the ultimate sacrifice. Eric was fully aware he would be forced to live with that black guilt for the rest of his life.
Yet another life lost because of me
.

As they dashed past the thick trees wrapped in bark black as night, yet more stinging guilt flashed through him.
They were at war because of him!
At least, that would be the excuse used to justify the glorious deaths of thousands.

But despite the darkness seeping into his thoughts, watching Jade ride next him as she gazed back while flashing a wink and a smile made his heart ache. He loved her so much it hurt. Eric shook away the momentary yet wonderful distraction.
How can I be so greedy
? So many lives at stake…lives he needed to preserve any way he could.

No, he was not deserving of love right now. These fleeting thoughts of love and warmth were a luxury he couldn’t afford, that Taron couldn’t afford. The rules he lived by were never to be forgotten. He would give everything he had to protect Jade, to save her from the very world itself if that burden were to fall to him, but right now there was even more at stake, no matter how much it hurt him to admit that.
I will do what needs to be done, no matter the cost
.

They finally approached the exact point of the forest where they had entered the first time. It once again gave the appearance of being a solid wall of thick vegetation from fifty feet away or so, but as they trotted the horses closer to the edge, the slight crack of sunlight peeking through seemed to grow to much more than a crack. It seemed as if the forest had decided to
allow
them to leave, much the same as when it granted entrance the first time.

The glaring sunlight flooding through the passage was nearly blinding as they rode into the whitened tunnel of politely leaning trees. Dashing out into the green field, each one inhaled sharply. The seemingly frigid air felt similar to a burst of winter cold after leaving the hot, humid forest. The shocking sensation was puzzlingly odd, really. For one, the air really was not that cold at all. It just seemed that way because of the sudden change. But that was a mere reminder of the other oddity that was hard to grasp. The air had not gotten progressively cooler as they approached the edge of the forest; it had remained consistently hot and humid right until they were clear of the very last tree.

Once they were able to take a few deep breaths, the coolness of the air was actually quite refreshing. The beautiful mounts bucked their heads and stomped their front hooves several times, echoing the others’ yearning to be off once more.

A new vigor and eagerness had welled in the young heroes. They were sent here against all odds to accomplish something extraordinary and had fully completed their task. Now brimming with confidence, a new, greater challenge had presented itself.

A final look back at the forest stirred mixed feelings in the trio. They had come here seeking the legendary race of killers feared for both their ingenuity and combat prowess, a race thought long gone but feared by all, if even through exaggerated tales passed down from one generation to the next. Instead, now they were leaving behind lifelong friends —friends and allies that would soon be depended upon.

The swirling emotions finally settled into a vague form of acceptance: acceptance that the world was far too large to ever believe a single individual could bring change without the aid of others who shared the same dream; acceptance that there was still good in the world and humans just might find a way to survive if they ever learned to work together.

Now off to Taron...
off to war
!

These strong mounts were no less than Shantis had promised. They dashed across the landscape of Tarmerria, the light summer breeze feeling like a hurricane against their squinting faces. Jade’s black robe whipped like a flag behind her, making a cracking sound every so often when the manufactured wind caught it just right.

Eric suddenly felt a foreign presence as it began to seep into his mind. At first he shook it away as best he could, trying to convince himself he was imagining things, that the cooler air was playing tricks. His breathing became labored as his head began to throb. Throbbing, pulsing, the strange energy began to fill his head as he tried desperately to keep hold of the reins.

“
GATE KEEPER
!” came the booming voice exploding through his skull.

He let go of the reins and grabbed his head with both hands. It felt like someone had driven an iron hammer right through his skull. Eric leaned on the back of the horse’s neck as it continued to speed along and tried to use his elbows and knees to hang on while clinging to consciousness by a thread.

“
GATE KEEPER
!”

The second explosion rattling through his head was just too much. His eyes registered nothing but blackness as he rolled off the back of the horse.

Before hitting the ground, some part of him that still clung to reality could still hear Jade screaming.

Chapter 9

The cold, bitter winds bit the noses of Dronin soldiers as they marched down the narrow stone path leading from the city. They marched in lines of four while their arms and legs pumped back and forth in perfect unison. Thick black leather covered their chests, with the triple red slashes worn bold and proud, and long, tan fur strung from their legs and arms.

The foot soldiers who marched methodically were hardly all Corzon had in mind when emptying the city of its military. War machines pulled along by both oxen and horses were spaced between the marching soldiers. Catapults, siege ladders and collapsed towers that could be jacked up when the time came rolled along nosily as iron wheels screeched their protest. Wagons pulled by sturdy horses carried various supplies, including extra weapons, armor, rations, and several portable tents, considering no one knew what length of time would be needed for a successful campaign of this magnitude.

Corzon rode along at the front of the line. His great, brown warhorse was outfitted in white leather armor except for the breast piece, which was black and stained with three red slashes. Corzon himself wore plain, polished, white leather armor displaying no symbols at all. Two long-swords rested in black leather sheaths strapped across his back. His hair was cropped tightly across his head then tied into a spidery ponytail filled with white beads that flipped up and down as he rode. His long, black beard had also been braided tightly into multiple strands and strung with red and white beads. He seemed to rattle more than Athel this day.

Athel reluctantly rode by her father’s side, her wild, beaded hair rattling away with every step of the white warhorse. With the horse itself being white and the matching white armor her father insisted on, she had complained that she might as well paint a target on her back.

Corzon assured her the gods would smile on them and that she had nothing to worry about. A little humility and common sense would have made her feel much better. At least she was given the option to wear the body armor of her choosing. Under her dark wolf’s fur coat she wore thin, light-brown leather possessing only slightly more protective properties than regular clothes, but very light and flexible—perfect for maximizing speed and agility.

Her flashy half-moon blades rested in their custom-made inverted sheaths under her coat. It made her nervous that she couldn’t reach them easily right now, even though they
should
be days away from any sort of conflict. She kept shrugging over and over just to be reassured they were still there.

She rode along wearing a permanent scowl, a few of her wild braids draped over her eyes and face but doing nothing in the way of removing them. “Soon we will make history throughout the land,” said Corzon as he made a sweeping gesture with an open hand. “We will crush our enemies. Dronin will be glorified for cleansing Tarmerria of the witch queen. Taron’s evil will finally come to an end, and the name of Corzon Thenalra shall be whispered on the winds for all eternity.” He leaned over in his saddle as his dark eyes narrowed. “Perhaps my daughter could show a little more enthusiasm and support for the greatest campaign ever assembled since the Undead War.”

Athel whipped her head around, throwing her wild braids from her face, and matched his stare with green eyes filled with fire. “We will crush our enemies, you say?” she hissed. “These
enemies
...this
evil
...tell me, father, what aggression have they displayed toward our people? Why has Taron suddenly found itself in your crosshairs?”

“Shut up, girl!”

“What if it is true, and the Gate Keeper really
has
come forth?”

“Silence!”

Athel held his gaze, tilting her head slightly as a lopsided smile turned up one corner of her mouth. “The enemies of Dronin? The enemies of all of Tarmerria?” Her voice lowered to a hissing whisper. “Or the enemies of Tamera and Grimton, the foreigners you clearly hold so dear?” She nodded her head over her shoulder, gesturing to the covered wagon where the two foreigners were riding comfortably.

Her father looked away in disgust. Her statement really hit home, as he had had the same debate with himself at one point, but ultimately concluded that they were correct and Taron’s intentions were indeed evil. It was far too late to second-guess his reasoning.

Firmly ignoring her now, he motioned to one of the scouts. The lean man with dark eyes and long, thickly braided goatee split in half rode up next to Corzon. “Sir,” he stated with a quick open hand flashing to his forehead.

“We will pass the towns of Brankin, Kopler, and Limpton before we reach Taron. They are nothing but farming communities but can still produce strong young men, if not particularly skilled with a blade.” Athel gasped in horror at what her father was suggesting. “Take fifty of the men and ride on ahead. Get every able-bodied man from those villages and have them ready when we get there. We won’t be stopping, so they better be lined up when we arrive.”

“Sir, there is bound to be some resistance,” the scout stated quietly, although quite sure of the answer he would receive to the question disguised as a statement.

Corzon’s eyebrows seemed to climb on top of his head. “If any resist, simply make an example so it doesn’t happen again,” he stated, as if that were quite obvious.

“Sir,” the man saluted once more and began to turn the horse around to assemble men for the new assignment.

Corzon cleared his throat loudly, prompting the man to turn around once more. “I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but just to be clear, don’t make the example out of able-bodied men we can use.” Athel’s horror amplified exponentially. “Use their mothers, daughters, or sons, if they are too young to be of use to us. You understand, correct?”

“Y-yes sir,” the man said with eyes suddenly the size of moons. With that, he turned the horse around much faster than he had the first time.

Athel stared straight ahead as her mouth hung open with her two front silver teeth sparkling intermittently in the sunlight. Her face was cold and emotionless, her eyes half open and dry as bones. One would believe she had just awoken from a long, deep slumber.

Corzon drifted his horse closer to his daughter, who seemed frozen with the same dry look, eyelids heavy and only partially awake. When he was in range, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Athel, you must understand, in times of war decisions must be made that—”

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked as she violently jerked away, eyes jolting wide open, as if seeing him for the first time. Many of the men heard the exchange and pretended to be occupied by...well, anything–as their eyes just wandered about.

Her green eyes were no longer dry; they leaked like rivers down the sides of her cheeks, staring at him with pure horror. Her jaw moved up and down but no sound would come, while her face remained contorted in anguish. When she finally found a voice, she squeaked in a shrill, broken tone, “I don’t know who you are.”

* * *

What started as whispers of war through the streets of Taron had now become cold reality. There was no more murmuring on street corners as people exaggerated a rumor of a rumor they heard from a merchant or bartender. This was really happening, and although no official announcement had been made, the ridiculous amounts of soldiers walking the street, combined with war machines being pulled to the front gates by heavy horses, left little doubt in the minds of any.

Stores and shops were now boarded up with wooden planks crossed over doors and windows, the clerks nowhere to be found. Those that actually lived in attachments to their shops were now huddled up in attics or basements. They might be here for days, as no one knew when the Dronin army would actually arrive, or if the numbers being tossed around by gossiping neighbors were exaggerated or not.