Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (26 page)

A guard at Reiv’s back pushed him
forward.

“Bring his mount,” Whyn ordered.

The guard complied and returned, yanking the
reins of a dark brown horse with a blue-black mane. The horse
reared, its eyes wild with fright, and stomped around in a circle
while the guard shouted and fought to control it. The loud snap of
a whip brought the horse to a halt. The animal’s flank twitched
where a cruel new mark was etched.

“Gitta,” Reiv whispered, recognizing the
horse he had once called his own. He stepped toward her, but an arm
was thrust in his path. He felt his wrists as they were bound in
front of him, but all he could do was stare into the eyes of the
frightened horse.

“She will let no one ride her,” Whyn said.
“You had best hold on tight.” Then he laughed and mounted a
stallion with eyes as cold and black as its sleek, muscular
body.

Reiv was lifted up by a giant of a guard and
thrown onto Gitta’s back. He pressed his thighs against her and
leaned in, whispering soft words into her ear. She calmed
immediately, much to the chagrin of Whyn, who snapped an order for
the gates to be parted.

Reiv glanced behind him and felt his heart
sink. As far as he could see, the Guard was assembled for battle,
the metal of their polished armor glimmering even in the dull
morning light. The pace of his horse quickened. He turned his
attention forward as he was led up front to join Whyn and Mahon.
Thirty or so guards took their places as escorts, while the rest
stayed behind the walls and waited with anticipation.

“Why are you going?” Reiv asked Whyn, anxiety
creeping into his voice. “You are King. Should you not stay
behind?”

“I have nothing to fear. Besides, it might be
fun.”

“What about the risk of damage to you? Tearia
would not tolerate a damaged king, just as it would not tolerate a
damaged prince.”

Whyn scoffed. “The Jecta would not dare harm
me. But even if they entertained such a notion, the Guard will see
to it they do not. I appreciate your concern for my safety, but do
not worry about me.” Then he grinned and urged his horse forward
with a kick of his heels.

The eerie fog began to thin, leaving the
landscape bathed in milky light. Twenty Jecta on horseback could be
seen advancing slowly toward them. When they were within a
reasonable distance, their fair-haired leader raised a hand to stop
his line. Both Jecta and Tearians stood face to face, eyeing each
other with disdain.

Reiv’s belly churned as Dayn advanced his
horse a few paces. What was his cousin thinking, facing Whyn and
the Guard like this? Then Reiv realized it was he who had declared
Dayn the warrior that the Jecta needed. He felt a sudden wave of
regret. Even through the distance he could see that Dayn had taken
great pains to present himself as that warrior. A broad leather
band held Dayn’s hair back, and his face was painted with black
designs that lined his forehead and circled his eyes. A glimmer at
his ear indicated he wore an earring, something he swore he would
never do. The dirk was shoved into his belt, clearly in view, and a
barely visible sheath hung at his waist. Reiv held his breath as he
watched his cousin stare Whyn down. Dayn’s painted face may have
exuded bravery, but Reiv knew the expression was as painted on as
the designs that outlined it.

Dayn caught Reiv’s eye and nodded, but Reiv
averted his eyes rather than have Whyn see an acknowledgement
between them. Reiv’s gaze moved toward the riders at Dayn’s back
and he felt himself go weak. Torin was there, and Jensa, Alicine,
and Brina. He hated that they were there on his account and wished
more than anything he could scream them all away. For a moment he
thought to do so, to shout for them to run for their lives. But
then he felt Mahon move his steed forward a step or two. Reiv
glanced at him. The man was staring with suppressed, but obvious
horror at the sight of his wife sitting amongst the others.

“We have come to offer a trade,” Dayn said
across the distance. “We do not wish to fight. We only wish to
negotiate for Reiv’s return.”

“What could you possibly offer that is worth
any sort of trade?” Whyn called back. He grabbed the reins of
Reiv’s horse and advanced several steps with Mahon at their side.
He ordered the rest of the guards to stay back.

Dayn reached out his hand, and Gair handed
him the rope. Dayn kicked in his heels and advanced slowly. The
rope in his hand grew taut. Gair nudged Crymm forward with a kick
of his foot. The guard stumbled behind Dayn’s horse, a mixture of
humiliation and hostility blanketing his face. Dayn stopped within
several feet of the Tearian group, then yanked the rope.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said as
Crymm lurched forward.

Whyn guffawed. “There is little value in
that. No, I think there will be no trade.”

“Oh, you misunderstand me. You can have your
dog back for nothing. What I’ve come to trade is this.” Dayn pulled
the Lion Sword from the scabbard at his waist and held it high.

Sunlight burst forth from the evaporating
clouds. The blade glistened, its reflection dancing in Whyn’s
covetous eyes.

“You are a thief!” Whyn hissed.

“Yes, that’s true,” Dayn said with a sigh. “I
did in fact steal it. From Reiv.” He looked at Reiv and shook his
head. “Sorry, cousin.”

Mahon’s mouth dropped.

Whyn narrowed his eyes. “
Cousin
? Why
do you refer to him as such?’

“Because he is my cousin, just as you are.
Brina is my mother. I was once named Keefe, but now I am Dayn.”
Dayn cocked his head. “We resemble each other, you and I, don’t you
think? If I hadn’t been sent away and unnamed as I was, maybe we
would have been friends. Funny how things work out, isn’t it.”

“Unnamed?” Whyn rasped the word. His horse
sensed his agitation and reared and danced about. Whyn held tight
to the reins and twisted his head to keep his focus on Dayn.
“Lies!” he shouted as he forced the horse to a halt.

Brina advanced her horse next to Dayn’s. “My
son does not lie,” she said.

“Brina…no,” Mahon whispered. His face went
ghostly white and his eyes fluttered as though he were about to
faint.

“So, Brina, you are in on this conspiracy,”
Whyn said.

“Yes, nephew, I made my choice,” she said. “I
side with the people I love. You were once included in that love,
you know.”

“You never loved me as you love Reiv!” Whyn
said.

“Of course I did, until your words became
nothing but lies. You are no longer the nephew I loved, Whyn,
though I pray he is still in you somewhere.”

“What’s it going to be, cousin?” Dayn said.
“Do we have a trade?” He rotated the sword in his hand and eyed it
with interest.

“I will trade nothing for that which already
belongs to me!” Whyn shouted.

Then Reiv spoke up. “But you gave it to me,
Whyn. Remember? As I recall you said it belonged to me. Were those
not your exact words?” Then Reiv fixed Dayn his stare. “And because
it is mine I demand that it not be traded. Under no circumstances
is it to find its way into my brother’s hand, Dayn.”

“I have had enough of this game!” Whyn said.
He slid his sword from its sheath with a hiss of metal and raised
it above his head as he shouted a command. The gates of Tearia
burst open, and a host of Guard on horseback swarmed through. Those
at Whyn’s back lurched forward.

Dayn raised a signal, and the Jecta streamed
toward him, their voices lifted in high-pitched battle cries. Those
on horseback rushed to Dayn’s side, their weapons poised and
ready.

The Tearian cavalry was upon the Jecta in an
instant. A rain of arrows streamed through the sky, sailing in
opposite directions. Warriors from both sides collapsed to the
ground. Horses fell, spilling their riders into the dirt. The Guard
advanced with spears, crossbows, and swords. The Jecta met them
with knives, sickles, and bows of their own design. The battle
roared in an ear-splitting explosion of red and silver and
brown.

Reiv struggled to stay on his horse, but
Gitta bolted, and he soon found himself tumbling to the ground.
Hooves thundered around him, kicking dirt into his face. He rolled
to his knees and staggered up, his hands still bound. Two guards
galloped toward him, their swords swinging in his direction. He
threw his body to the side and landed hard on his belly.

Reiv raised his head and scanned the dusty
swirl of horse and warrior. He saw Jensa and Torin in the distance,
still mounted and fighting side by side. Brina and Alicine were
nowhere to be seen. Reiv rose, panicked for their safety, but then
he spotted Dayn reining his horse in his direction. Dayn urged the
animal forward, but Crymm, whose bonds had been cut, suddenly
rushed forward, yanking Dayn from his mount.

The Lion fell from Dayn’s grasp and landed
with a
thud
into the dirt. Crymm dove and retrieved it in a
flash. Dayn pulled the dirk from his waistband and positioned his
body for defense. With a loud shout, the guard lunged at him, but
Dayn leapt aside. Crymm spun to face him, his face contorted with
rage. He lunged again, slamming the force of his weapon against
that of his less experienced opponent.

Reiv screamed out as Dayn was knocked to the
ground. Crymm grinned and straddled Dayn, now on his back. Crymm
raised the Lion for the strike, but paused as though savoring the
moment. Reiv rushed forward and threw his fists against him,
shoving Crymm into the dirt. The guard rose and wheeled to face
Reiv, then leapt forward, a guttural sound resonating from his
throat. Crymm’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

A riderless horse appeared from out of
nowhere and careened toward them. It reared on its hind legs,
bringing the weight of its massive body down upon the unsuspecting
guard. Crymm fell to the ground, contorted and unmoving. Blood
pooled around his head, tracked into the dirt where the horse had
stepped away from him.

Gitta made her way to Dayn and lowered her
head. Dayn grabbed hold of her mane and pulled himself to his feet,
then rushed over to cut the bindings from Reiv’s wrists. They
paused to stare at Crymm, neither saying a word. For a moment the
man seemed to stare back at them, but his eyes saw nothing at
all.

Reiv turned and search the ground. “Where is
the sword? Where is the sword!” he cried. Then he froze. Whyn could
be seen climbing back onto his mount nearby, the Lion grasped in
his hand.

Mahon galloped toward Reiv and Dayn. Reiv
tensed, certain his uncle meant to kill them both. But the man sped
past and headed for Brina, who could be seen fighting to control
her frenzied horse.

“Get to the back of the line!” Mahon shouted
at her. “Take the women to the back of the line!”

Brina nodded, pale faced, and steered the
horse as best she could. She commanded the animal in Alicine’s
direction, and the two of them retreated from the chaos.

Whyn thundered toward Dayn and Reiv, a
bloodcurdling scream tearing from his lungs. Reiv leapt to the side
and fell, sprawled across a body. A vision flashed before his
eyes—this had happened before! He rolled off quickly, then rose to
his hands and knees. A stickiness coated his palms; he jerked them
back and wiped them across his chest. A shadow swept the ground
before him. The horse and rider! He twisted around to see his
attacker, but Dayn cried out and planted his body between them.
Dayn raised the dirk with a determined hand. The Lion Sword swung
down to meet it.

Reiv watched as his cousin and brother
fought, their images black shapes against a palette of morning
light. The terrifying
clank
of blade upon blade rang in his
ears. Whyn clearly had the advantage, but Dayn somehow managed to
hold his own. Whyn’s horse unexpectedly circled away, and for a
moment appeared to retreat. Dayn risked a glance at Reiv, his face
awash with confusion. But then Whyn reined his mount back toward
him and dug in his heels, the sword raised high. Reiv thrust out a
warning hand, but before he could shout a word, Mahon rushed
between Dayn and Whyn.

Mahon was on foot; his steed had been swept
from beneath him by the pierce of an arrow. But the man stood fast,
facing Whyn with clear determination. He motioned Dayn back and
aimed his sword at Whyn, more as a warning than an attack. Whyn
halted and stared him down. No words passed between the King and
his Commander, but the message in their eyes was clear: Mahon
intended to save his son; Whyn intended to slay the Unnamed
One.

Whyn kicked in his heels and the stallion
lunged forward. Blades glinted in the air, then met with a
clash
as the horse swept past. Whyn stopped abruptly and
turned his mount around. Mahon clutched his sword with both hands
as he readied for the next attack. The horse barreled toward him,
brushing against him and knocking him to his knees. The Lion
descended, slashing Mahon from shoulder to breastbone.

Blood gushed from the wound and dripped into
the dirt. Mahon staggered up and turned to face Whyn, who was now
reining his stallion to make another pass. The horse reached him in
a fleeting moment. Mahon swung his weapon with effort, but for all
his determination, he had little strength left. He swiped again,
his body spinning from the weight of his sword. Whyn plunged the
Lion into Mahon’s unsuspecting back, screaming a shout of
victory.

Mahon threw his head back and crumpled to the
ground. Whyn glared down at him in disgust. “Traitor!” he
hissed.

Dayn rushed to Mahon’s side and pulled him
into his arms. Mahon looked into Dayn’s face, then grabbed his hand
and held it tight. “I am… sorry…son,” he said. He kept his gaze on
Dayn a moment longer, then his grasp went limp and his eyes grew
still.

“Father!” Dayn cried as he shook him hard.
“Father, please!”

“Now you may join him,” Whyn said, advancing
toward him.