Stormwielder (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 1) (16 page)

To his surprise, she obeyed. Sobs began to rack her body. She slid to the ground and buried her face in her arms. The light caught on the golden locks of her hair.

“Go on. Just kill me,” she sobbed.

Gabriel crouched down and wrapped his arms around the girl. They sat in the darkness for a long while. He breathed in the musty scent of her hair. Memories flickered to life in his mind, of another woman he had once held and comforted.
My fiancé
, he remembered. Tears of his own sprung from his eyes.
I couldn’t save her!
He wept.

After a few minutes, the tears began to slow. He realised the girl had stopped crying. He looked over to see her staring at him, eyes wide in shock. Gabriel shrugged. “Come on, we’d best get out of here.”

The girl nodded, silent now, and followed him up the ladder. When they reached the top, Gabriel helped her over the lip of the trapdoor. In the daylight, he realised she was not as young as he had first thought.

She stood silent and still, sapphire eyes brimming with tears. The sunlight played across her hair, the blond curls hanging down to her shoulders. A single copper lock hung across her face, standing out like black sheep in a heard of white. She blew it from of her eyes, thin lips tight with grief. She stood as high as his shoulders, her plain clothes torn and tattered. Despite her small frame, she displayed the curves and figure of a young woman. Gabriel guessed she might be sixteen or seventeen.

A growl came from across the room. He spun, remembering the wolf. It padded forward, teeth bared. The hair bristled along its back. The stench of wet fur overpowered the bloody stench of the room. It crouched, muscles tensed to spring. Snarling, it slunk closer.

Gabriel held out a hand. “Easy, it’s okay.”

She must die!

Gabriel drew his sword. The wolf was right. The girl had to die. He turned to face her – and fell into her sapphire eyes. They had gone wide with shock, tears spilling over to wash down her dirty face. Yet there was no fear in them. Instead, she tensed, prepared to fight.

He lowered his blade. His fiancé was dead. He clung to his one, irrevocable memory. He blinked and looked around.
What am I doing?
How could he consider murdering a helpless girl?

The wolf
, he realised.

He turned again, holding his sword point out at the beast. The demon had tricked him, stolen away his humanity in return for… for what? Gabriel could not even remember now.

An image of the guard at the city gates flashed through his memory. Guilt ate at him. He had given in to evil, he realised. He had become a monster. It was time to put an end to it.

“No more, demon spawn. Our deal is done.”

So be it. You will soon wish otherwise
, the wolf whispered in his mind, and leapt.

Gabriel had no time to bring up his sword. The wolf struck him in the chest, flinging him from his feet. Its teeth snapped inches from his face before its momentum carried it past. The girl flung herself out of the way as it hurtled at her. Its claws screeched, digging grooves into the wood. It turned to charge him again.

He hauled himself to his feet and moved to stand between wolf and girl. From the corner of his eye, he saw her grab a chair. She held it out before her, ready for the next attack.

The wolf howled and began to circle. Its bright yellow eyes studied him, searching for a way past. He kept his sword low, pointed at its throat. It would not knock him down so easily a second time.

Gabriel lunged forward with his blade. The beast dodged backwards, but its claws could not find purchase on the hard floor and it moved slowly. His first sweep missed, before he wrenched the tip around and brought it down on the wolf’s head.

The blade bit deep, scraping against bone. He gagged as a rotten stench ran from the wound. The wolf yelped and retreated further. Gabriel let it go. If he followed, it might slip around him and attack the girl. Black blood dripped from his sword tip. The beast only had eyes for him now. When it rushed him, Gabriel was ready.

He crouched low, sword point out before him. At the last moment, he lunged forward, meeting the charge with his sword. The wolf ran right onto the blade, the tip tearing through its hide to sink to the hilt. There it lodged, ripping from his grip. The beast’s weight carried it forward, driving him backwards. Gabriel fell. The wolf growled, stumbling forward. He struggled to climb to his feet. It leapt.

Air exploded from Gabriel’s lungs as the sharp claws landed on his chest. He collapsed back to the ground, pinned beneath the weight of the wolf. It towered over him. Bloody saliva dripped from its jaws. The sword still stuck from its chest, close to where its heart should be. Not close enough, it seemed.

Goodbye, Gabriel
,
its voice whispered in his mind. Its mouth opened to rip out his throat.

Neither of them saw the girl. The chair lashed out, smashing the wolf from Gabriel. She bounded over him, weapon in hand and heartbroken fury on her face.

The wolf thrashed about, fighting to reclaim its feet. The chair crashed down on its back. The girl lifted it and swung again, screaming with each blow. Gabriel saw one smash its head, another its chest, a third the sword. Again and again she struck, long after the creature had ceased to move.

Gabriel pulled himself to his feet. His chest ached where the wolf had landed. Bloody patches marked his jerkin where its claws had torn skin. They were nothing to the suffering of this girl. The couple could only have been her parents. To have them murdered while she hid helpless below…

He shook his head and moved to her side. He reached for the chair, though there was not much left of it now. She threw herself into his arms when he took it. “They’re gone,” she sobbed.

Gabriel suddenly felt old. What could he say to this girl? He was lost, but the words slipped out before he could think. “I know. I’ll look after you.”

She stopped crying and pulled away from him. “We should go,” her voice was steady. “There are people out there, looking for me,” she closed her eyes. “I wish I knew why.”

Gabriel nodded. He reached down and pulled his blade from the wolf. Wiping the blood away on the beast’s coat, he made a silent vow to himself. Never again would it be used for evil.

He moved towards the door and paused. Turning back, he asked. “What is your name?”

“Enala,” she said.

“I’m Gabriel.”

They walked out the front door and disappeared into the heavy rain.

Three days had passed. Three long, endless days of searching, questions, and danger. Yet still there was no sign of the missing girl, not even a whisper. Instead, they found themselves leaping at shadows, worn down by the ever-present threat of Archon’s hunters.

Eric sat at the table in their room, staring into his hands. His clothes were still damp from the search. The endless rain hampered their efforts and now another night was closing in. Another day was over and still Enala remained an enigma. Alastair sat across from him, exhausted. Each day sucked a little more life from the man. His eyes were downcast and ringed by shadows.

The rain lashed at the misty glass of their window. Balistor and Caelin would return soon. They had enlisted the men in the search, although Eric was unsure whether Alastair now trusted them, or was just desperate. Either way, even with the four, the task had proved impossible. They didn’t even know what Enala looked like, and there were hundreds of empty buildings in which she could hide. It was like searching blindfolded for a needle in a burning haystack.

Eric glared at the old man, his irritation growing. He had kept his silence until now; sure Alastair would finally tell him why the girl was so important. It was galling, knowing the two strangers knew the truth, while he searched in ignorance. Tired and hungry, he now found his anger bubbling just below the surface.

“Where are they?” frustration strained Alastair’s voice. “We need a new plan. The longer she is out there, the more likely the other hunters will find her first.”

Eric’s anger finally snapped. “Who is she, Alastair? Why is she so important?” he all but shouted.

Alastair sat back in his chair, fixing Eric with a cool stare. There was no anger in his eyes, just a look of resignation. Then the old man leaned forward, resting his palms on the table. “Very well, Eric. You have been patient. But you should know; if I tell you the truth, you may never be safe again.”

Eric sucked in a breath of air and exhaled. “So be it. At least I won’t be blind to it.”

Alastair leaned closer. “Do you recall, Eric, the memories Antonia showed you?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Alastair responded. “Think back to the end, when the Gods and Thomas summoned their magic. Did you notice anything?”

Eric frowned, thinking back to the scene. As the magic erupted into the sky he had seen a shadow in the grass, but dismissed it as nothing. “The shadow?”

“Yes, the shadow. I saw it at the time, but Thomas was surrounded by power, protected by the Gods of Earth and Sky. And it vanished so quickly, I thought I had imagined it.”

“What was it?”

“A fail safe cast by Archon. As the God magic took hold and cast him from the Three Nations, it triggered. It was aimed at the ones who wielded the God magic.”

Eric stared, a cold dread seeping into his heart. He remembered the shadow clearly now, creeping across the green lawns of the Trolan palace, drawing closer to the unsuspecting king. “But they were fine. Thomas was fine. You told me he lived for decades after that, long enough to have children to carry the Sword after him. They were the only ones who could wield it.”

Alastair nodded. “You’re right. Archon’s spell was not strong enough to touch Antonia or Jurrien over such a distance, so instead it sought out the weak link in the circle. The wielder of the Sword of Light – Thomas.”

“But Thomas survived.”

“Yes, but it was never meant to kill him. Archon knew it would take something more subtle to escape our notice.”

“Then what did the shadow do?”

Outside thunder crashed. “The curse was a slow sickness, one targeted at his own magic rather than the Swords. By the time it took hold, its roots were too deep for even Antonia to heal. Worse, it did not stop there. The curse affected his children and every descendent since, slowly weakening the powers of the Sword wielders. A decade ago, it was all but gone. Now the Trolan King has lost the last of his magic and the bloodline is at an end. There is no one left to hold the Sword of Light. Archon is already mustering his forces.”

Eric’s mouth went dry. Fear clawed at his throat. He remembered Antonia’s terror when she spoke of Archon. He swallowed, struggling to suck in a breath. If even the Gods feared Archon, what chance did they have?

“Calm yourself, Eric. There is still hope.”

“What?” Eric croaked.

“Thomas’s line has ended, but he had a sister. A sweet girl called Aria. Aria had Thomas’ blood, but the curse did not affect her. When we discovered what had happened, I took Aria into hiding. Only her descendants have the power to wield the Sword now.”

“The family?”

Alastair nodded. “Antonia came to me a long time ago and asked me to track them down. But her descendants had vanished and everywhere I looked they had died out or moved on,” he took a deep breath. “I failed. If it were not for Elynbrigge, I would never have found them. That couple and their daughter are the last of Aria’s line. Enala is now the only person left who can wield the Sword of Light. If she is lost, so are the Three Nations.”

Eric stared, speechless. How could this have happened? How could the Gods have let the lives of every man, woman, and child in the Three Nations come down to life of one girl. And Archon was already one step ahead of them, his hunters ready to murder the girl on sight. 

I know you desire redemption, and I would like to offer you that chance
Antonia had said. He knew what she meant now, the secret the Goddess had emitted. This was his quest. Help Alastair save this girl and maybe, just maybe, he could put his ghosts to rest.

Can I do it?
Eric asked himself, and then shook his head. It didn’t matter. He could not run from this. If they failed, everyone died.

The door to their room burst open. Eric looked up in shock. Lightning flashed outside, showing Caelin standing in the doorway. He took a step inside, the door swinging shut behind him. Thunder roared, whisking away his words. Eric heard the five that mattered.

“I think I’ve found her.”

******************

Inken sipped at her ale. The cool drink ran down her throat. The alcohol slowed her thoughts, but did nothing for her worries. The tavern was alive with the laughter of her fellow bounty hunters. It was a sight to see the grizzled men and battle-hardened women dancing as if they were children again.

Her friend Kaiden sat beside her, one hand on a jug of ale, the other grasping a greasy haunch of lamb. Words ran from his mouth, something about the rain and the water import market, but Inken’s thoughts were elsewhere. Her spirits were low, weighed down by debt.

She had spent much of the last week resupplying, but even with the fresh rain, equipment in Chole was expensive. She had gone through several lenders to garner the funds she needed and it would take years to pay back the loans.

Maybe her spirits would be higher if it weren’t for the horse. That particular decision irritated her beyond measure. The gelding was a nice animal and the only decent horse she could afford. But the colour! What was she going to do with a white horse? A bounty hunter had to remain inconspicuous and even the thickest criminal would soon hear about a warrior on a white horse riding into town.

The rest of her equipment was sound, if expensive. The sabre she wore was light and well balanced, and would be useful in a fight on horseback. It would serve well, as would the short recurve bow she had leaned against the bar. The maker had carved the black stained bow with great care and the oak would give extra distance to her arrows.

A man brushed passed Inken as he made his way through the tavern. She smelt a wisp of ash as he passed. He wore a black cloak with the hood pulled up, casting a shadow across his face. All she could see was the glow of his eyes. He wore a sword at his side, but that was common in this bar. Even so, something about him made her gaze linger. She watched as he walked up to one of the larger tables.

Several men looked up as he stopped before their table. Their conversation broke off as they stared at the man in confusion. Suddenly, he leapt. His feet easily cleared the tables top and his muddy boots slammed down on the wood. Plates crashed and food went flying. The men cursed as ale spilt in their laps and glasses crashed to the floor.

The room fell silent. Even Kaiden was staring, open mouthed. The stranger spun, sweeping the room with his dark gaze. His cloak swept out behind him, but the hood remained, hiding his face.

“Bounty hunters!” his voice boomed to the stunned room. “I have a message for you. Some days ago, a message came from the Magistrate of Oaksville, offering a lifetimes gold in reward for the death of a demon. Many of your companions rode to claim it.”

Inken saw that many of her fellow hunters were glaring in anger at the stranger. The men he’d knocked from their chairs scrambled to their feet.

“They failed!” the man’s announcement halted any pending violence. “The demon is here, in this proud city, and Oaksville’s Magistrate is slain. His word no longer counts for dust.”

There were angry mutters from around the room. Inken’s eyes widened. Her pulse quickened at his words. Had she been right?
No, he must be wrong
.

“However, my word is gold,” he spoke over his audience. The man reached into his cloak and drew out a cloth bag. He tossed it to the ground where it split. Gold coins spilled across the floor, the chime they made silencing the tavern. “And I will reward a bag just like that to each and every bounty hunter who comes with me,
now
. We will bring this demon, and all his accomplices, to justice. Who’s with me?”

The room erupted around Inken. She stood to join in, although her heart was sinking. She stared at the gold, thoughts racing. The reward would more than cover her debt. And if the hunt was for a demon, why should she hesitate?

Yet what if it was Eric? 

Inken shivered. The man had leapt from the table and was leading the crowd out the doors and into the rain.

Inken rose, picking up her bow. She toyed with the carved wood, staring at the smooth workmanship.

“Are you coming?” Kaiden stood beside her, open greed in his eyes.

She pictured the gold coins spilling across the ground. This was too great an opportunity to pass up.

It can’t be Eric. The boy is no demon,
she told herself.

Inken smiled. “Of course. Let’s go.”

******************

The man in the black cloak strode down the street. He did not look back. The fools would follow, they always did.

His anger flared. It had been a mistake to underestimate Alastair and now he was paying for it. These hunters were only loyal to gold. They were no replacement for the followers he had lost. They had known what they fought for and were dedicated themselves to the cause. They truly wished to be free.

He cursed to himself. He should not have waited so long to set his plan into action, but it had been worth the risk. If Alastair had found the girl for him, the battle would have been won. But after three days, time was up. The plan would still work. They would finally be rid of the vexatious old Magicker. It would be a heavy blow to the cursed Goddess.

They strode through the muddy streets, the inn looming ahead. He reached out with his mind, searching for the aftertaste of magic. It clung to the boy like mud, seeping from his pores. Such power, misplaced in one so young and naïve. But it was missing now. They had were not in the inn.

He left his hunters outside and went inside to investigate. The innkeeper told him they had left an hour before, heading towards the eastern wall.

Outside again, he signalled for several of the men to follow. The rest he left to take up stations around the inn. He would take no chances this time. If Alastair and the others returned by a different path, they would not escape his net.

He moved down the street with his followers. They came to a crossroads. He stationed them there, ready to ambush the fools when they returned. In the meantime, there was one more thing to do this night, one last chess piece to eliminate. He allowed himself a smile. The game was at an end. The ball was rolling and there would be no escape.

Alastair would finally die tonight.

******************

Eric took another step up the worn stone staircase. He heard the footsteps of Caelin and Alastair from above, but he dared not look anywhere but his feet. To his left, the staircase ended in an abrupt thirty-foot drop to the city below. Silently, he willed himself on. The top of the wall could not be far now.

The wind grew stronger as they ascended, tearing through their rain soaked clothes and threatening to hurl them to the cobbles below. Eric shivered, wishing for the cloak he had left behind. They’d left with such haste he had not thought to grab it from his chair.

The crunching of footsteps above him ceased and Eric froze, gaze still locked to the steps. He blinked the rain from his eyes, cursing his fear. He could feel his weakened magic stirring and up on the city walls that could prove fatal. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

Laughter came from above. “What are you doing, Eric?” Caelin called down