Bacorium Legacy (92 page)

“He told me he was getting back at the people who betrayed him, and the kingdom of Acaria. I didn't believe him at first, but over time, as he told me about the kingdom, and what it meant to him... Emila, he doesn't want to be doing this, but he has to. It's the only way to save Acaria, he said.”

“He lied to you, Eva,” Emila said. “He attacked the town just because he was angry that his mother left Acaria. Our mother. He killed her when she refused to go back with him. And all the other people in Sulin - all the people we grew up with - he killed them for no reason.”

Eva grew quiet.

“Why would he do that if he was such a 'good person', as you say...? He's killed so many people, so that he could use them to make his army of revenants, which he would use to kill even more people. He's bloodthirsty.”

Eva's expression grew pained, her eyes full of guilt. “Sometimes, when we were talking, we would talk about you, Emila. He wanted to find you and bring you back to Acaria. He wanted us all to be together - like a family...”

“Eva. He's the reason why we don't have a family.”

Emila's little sister blinked, and her eyes glistened with tears.

<> <> <>

Zinoro rolled through the threshold, and kicked the door close behind him. The thin wooden door shook at the impact of the arrows hitting it, and arrowheads poked out from the other side, but they did not pierce it. A few moments passed, and no third wave of arrows came.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Zinoro then heard a faint, muffled whimpering sound behind him. He rose, and turned around to see four people huddled in the corner of the small house's living room.

There was a man - the father - balding and moustached. There was a wound in his stomach that bled and stained his clothes, but it did not appear fatal. Beside him was a woman of similar age - the mother. In her lap were two little girls - their daughters - one a few years older than the other. The four of them were huddled close together, watching Zinoro with terrified expressions.

Of course they knew who he was. Everyone knew who Zinoro was. That's why they were so terrified, not that the father had apparently been wounded earlier in the attack. The husband was clearly not a hunter or a soldier - in fact, there was not a single weapon to be seen in the house. They were completely defenceless.

Zinoro stared at them for a moment, and his gaze drifted to the two daughters. He frowned.

His hand went to the belt at his side, and from it he drew a dagger. The younger daughter gasped at the sound of the blade coming free of its sheath. He moved closer to them, one step at a time. Their terrified expressions grew with each step. Finally, he stopped, and let go of the dagger. It fell to the floor, the tip of its blade stuck in the wooden boards.

The family looked to him with fearful confusion.

Zinoro turned away without a word, and went back over to the door. Peering out through the crack, he saw Lodin's son standing on top of the building on the other side of the street, talking with one of the archers who had fired on him.

No - the boy he spoke to had the same white hair. Lodin's hair. This was the brother, the younger one who had escaped with the mother that day, all those years ago.

He had never payed much mind to the younger brother. It was the older brother who was the true threat. That seer's prophecy had specifically stated that it was the older brother who could kill him.

Zinoro felt out of breath. The battle was wearing on him. He was starting to see that perhaps Lodin's son truly could beat him. He hadn't been pushed this far in a fight since...

Well, not since Lodin himself.

A half-smile formed on Zinoro's lips. He had made mistakes in dealing with this boy. He could have just used the manaflame in their first fight. He could have finished him off for sure after the boy had stabbed himself. And he could have stayed and made sure he died off, and ensured that Eva hadn't come to heal him.

Juvenile mistakes, really. And he had made them intentionally. The possibility that he could lose excited him. It made him fight harder. A certain victory was a hollow one, after all. He had willingly gone forth with the possibility of failure as a constant companion.

That was partly why he had kept a member of his own flesh and blood by his side for the past two years, even though the prophecy said that that was his other vulnerability.

He did not know if he would win the battle, but his revenant soldiers had been given their orders already. Nothing would stop them. Even if he died, T'Saw would still fall.

Zinoro gave one last regretful glance at the family in the corner. The father had taken his dagger, and held it close.

It was a shame that not everything could be stopped.

<> <> <>

“Brand! Brand!”

He opened his eyes. Wiosna stood over him, looking down at him with a fearful expression. His whole body ached.

“...what happened?” he said.

“That Acarian, he blew himself up...”

That's right, Brand remembered. He'd seen what that man was about to do. A suicide attack - using one's own mana to turn oneself into a massive bomb. He had hoped he could stop that man, but he'd never had any chance. When he'd realised it was too late, he had thrown up a mana shield at the last second. Had he been a magus of any form besides fire, that shield would not have saved him.

Brand pulled himself up to a sitting position, noticing his sword was back in its sheath. He was on the steps of the Ivory Palace. The first thing he noticed was at the bottom of the steps, where the barricade had been, there was now only a large, black scorch-mark.

He noticed Gareth, sitting on the steps, along with several of the other Sonoian soldiers. They all had burns of varying severity, but nobody seemed terribly injured. There were, however, quite a few of the soldiers missing. Brand doubted any of them were still alive.

“So the explosion destroyed the barricade,” he asked Wiosna. “And it wiped out the Acarians as well?”

She nodded. “It's been several minutes. There haven't been any more waves since then.”

Brand tried to climb back to his feet, but he felt a sharp pain in his gut, and stopped. He appeared to have a broken rib or two. “No healers around, I'm assuming?”

“They're all in the city, trying to help the citizens,” Gareth muttered. It was impossible to tell whether he agreed with that or not.

“So what now?” Brand asked. “Can we get another barricade up, or...” he trailed off.

At that moment, black figures began to pour out of the buildings and alleys like a great swarm of insects. They emerged out into the streets, and began to march in perfect unison towards the palace.

Acarian revenants. Hundreds of them.

“By the light...” whispered one of the soldiers. He stood up and took a step back, nearly tripping on the white stairs. His eyes were wide with terror.

Gareth swore. “We cannot face that. Retreat into the palace!”

The soldiers did not need told twice. They fled on swift feet back to the front doors of the palace, away from the legion of faceless men.

“Let me help you,” Wiosna said to Brand, haste in her voice. He did not protest. She put her arms around his chest and helped pull him up. The pain in his ribs cried out, but he stifled his groan. Once back on his feet, Brand felt his footing unsure. He put his arm around Wiosna's shoulder, and they walked - as quickly as they could - up to the palace doors.

As they rushed into the palace, Brand heard Gareth shouting, “Get those bars over the doors, now!”

Wiosna let Brand go, and he collapsed onto one knee, gasping. Each breath he drew in brought sharp pains to his chest.

“Brand, are you okay?” Wiosna demanded.

“Can you still fight?” Gareth asked him, stepping up beside Wiosna.

“I... I don't know.”

“If you can't fight, then retreat further into the palace,” Gareth said. “You'll just get in the way here.” He left them, barking orders at his men.

“I can fight enough for the both of us,” Wiosna said to Brand. “Do as he says. Find some place safe.”

“No,” Brand said through his teeth, forcing himself to stand up despite the pain. “Even if I can't actually fight, I still have my magick. I'll help as much as I can.”

Wiosna frowned. She didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue.

Two guards lifted up a heavy wooden bar, and lowered it in place at the top of the double doors, above two others. Gareth stood nearby, looking worn out but still somehow filled with intense energy.

Brand looked over the rest of the entry hall. The number of soldiers left was sobering, and few of them were not injured at least a bit. A couple looked like they could barely stand, just like Brand.

One of the soldiers, who was keeping watch by the window, shouted, “Captain, they have a battering ram!”

“They were prepared for this,” Brand muttered. “Those mindless attacks earlier were just them testing the waters. This is the true assault.”

“It looks that way...” Wiosna replied.

Gareth turned around and faced them. His expression was grim. “This is it, boys,” he said. “The doors will not hold forever, so be ready when they break through. The entrance will funnel them in, but the numbers will still be overwhelming. This is our last stand - the last resistance of T'Saw! Make it count for something! We may not have any chance to beat them, but we're sure as hell gonna take as many of them with us as we can!”

The soldiers shouted in agreement, and spirits were lifted a bit, though the faces of many of the soldiers still had the weight of defeat in their eyes. Nobody there truly believed they had any chance of victory - despite that, some of them might have wanted to believe in the pipe dream anyway. The captain's words had been the final death of that hope - a harsh reminder that they were all about to die.

The unseen battering ram struck, and the wooden door bulged against the bars holding it in place. A second strike followed moments later, and the bars began to crack and splinter.

“Unbelievable...” one of the soldiers said. “So much strength...”

“They may be many, but they are weak!” Gareth shouted. “Do not let their numbers fool you! The strength of the Acarians is nothing compared to the spirit of Sono! Fight! For King Zaow!”

The third strike hit. The middle bar split in half.

“We will make a river of Acarian blood run down the hundred steps!” Gareth continued. “They will sing songs of this battle for ages to come! It will be known that Sono never gave in, never fled, and never surrendered!”

The battering ram struck once more, this time bursting through. The doors swung open, and the ram was immediately dropped. Revenants poured into the hall, all but climbing over one another to get inside.

“ATTACK!!!”

Gareth charged, drawing the first blood once more. He swung his sword and sliced off the head of the first Acarian to reach him, and then spun and struck down another like it was nothing.

“For King Zaow! For T'Saw! For Sono!”

Echoing his battle cries, the Sonoian soldiers followed their captain into the sea of black. Again, steel met steel.

Wiosna followed after them, her own blade cutting a path through the Acarians. Brand lingered in the back, a hand over his broken rib, frustrated at his inability to help them.

A massive figure in the Acarian armour stepped forth, holding a heavy axe in both hands. Gareth stared back at the enemy, accepting his silent challenge. The captain charged past the others, towards the imposing figure. The axe was swung, and Gareth ducked, avoiding its lethal swing.

Gareth drove his sword into the gaps in the large revenants armour.

“For Sono.”

Gareth heard another Acarian coming up behind him. He pulled his sword to free it, but it was stuck fast.

The revenant's sword pierced Gareth's stomach, and he spat out blood. “You bastards...!”

“Captain!”

Finally, too late, Gareth freed his sword as the large Acarian vanished into death. He drove the blade into the visor of the revenant who had wounded him, and gave a bloody grin as that one too, was slain.

The revenant fell backwards, taking its sword with it. Gareth gasped again as the blade was pulled from his stomach. Droplets of red fell to the marble floor. The captain continued on in spite of this.

But he was surrounded. And wounded as he was, he had no chance against such large numbers.

“Captain! No!”

“Fight, you cowards!” Gareth shouted, as another sword pierced his chest. “...fight until the end...!”

And then, with a single swing, Gareth's head was separated from his shoulders.

The soldiers cried out, even as several others were killed. The room was quickly filling up. Each soldier was faced with three or more Acarians, and there was nowhere to run.

“What do we do?!”

Brand stepped back, and his back hit another doorway. It led to the hall before the throne room.

“Retreat!” Brand shouted. “Into the throne room!”

It was a bad idea. He knew that. The honourable thing to do would be to stand their ground and be killed, as Gareth had ordered them to do. But he couldn't let that happen. Not with Wiosna among them.

Brand pushed the door open, and limped through. What remained of the Sonoian soldiers followed after him.

<> <> <>

“He's coming out,” Ash observed.

Luca looked over at the house on the other side of the street. Zinoro emerged from the arrow-covered door, his claymore in his hands. His black hair was still wet from the fountain.

“You know what you need to do?” Luca asked.

Ash nodded.

“All right,” Luca said. “Let's hope I'm right about this.”

Luca's gaze drifted over to Zinoro, and Ash's followed. After a moment, Ash said, “So this is it, then? That's the man that killed our father.”

“It is.”

Ash's expression was hard to read. His eyes were far away - lost in thoughts that he did not share. He reached into his quiver and drew out an arrow, then placed it on his bow. “Be careful,” he told Luca.

Nodding back, Luca gathered his mana and warped down to the streets, on the other side of the destroyed fountain. Zinoro stood his ground, facing Luca with an expressionless gaze.