Stormwielder (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

“Move and you die,” Alastair's voice was as cold as frost.

The old man walked into view, his sword never wavering from the man’s throat. His face twitched with pain but his eyes were determined.

“Drop it,” Alastair nodded at the knife.

The man threw his weapon into the bushes and raised his hands, mouth clamped shut. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

“What is your name?” Alastair demanded.

“Tacus,” the guard spat the word.

“Well, Tacus, you can return to Oaksville. The city needs every man it can get now. The boy is in my custody now.”

“And who are
you?
”

“Alastair,” as he spoke the word he slammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s head. The archer’s eyes rolled up and he crumpled without a sound.

Shaking, Eric pulled himself to his feet. He brushed the mud and leaves from his face and clothes with trembling hands. He could not remember a worse day in his life. In the past 24 hours he had almost died a dozen times. Closing his eyes he tried to dismiss the determination in the archer’s eyes as he had raised the knife. Another few seconds and he would have driven it through Eric’s heart. Slowly the image faded and the trembling slowed, until at last he opened his eyes.

Eric climbed to his feet and looked around for any new surprises. The silence of the forest was profound. The local creatures had fled the sounds of the fight long ago. The only movement now was the waving of the leaves in the wind. They were alone in the forest.

Eric’s gaze slid to the dead and unconscious men.

He tore his gaze away from their fallen foes, turning his concern to Alastair. “Are you okay?”

Alastair shook his head. “No, but there’s no time to worry about that now. We have to move. There may be more yet. We don’t have too much further to go though.”

Alastair turned away before Eric could question his last statement, leaving him no choice but to follow. He did so without complaint. Now Alastair’s pace was slower, his exhaustion obvious in the heavy tread of his feet and slump of his shoulders. He would not make it far without help.

A surge of despair threatened to overwhelm Eric. There was no one out here to help them, and without treatment Alastair would surely die of blood loss – or worse. Eric barely knew the man, but in the last few hours Alastair had risked his life, and more for him. It was a gesture unlike any Eric had experienced and one he doubted he would ever understand.

“Alastair, are you sure we shouldn’t take a look at your shoulder? How much farther–”

Alastair raised a hand. “We’re here,” there was relief in his voice. He gave a short, sharp whistle.

Two horses appeared from the trees and walked over to join them. The first stood sixteen hands tall and wore a glistening black coat and a brown leather saddle. It watched them with intelligent hazel eyes. It was a horse fit for a king. It wandered across and nuzzled at Alastair’s shoulder.

The second was a similar build to the other, although its chestnut coat did not glisten with the same magic. It stood slightly smaller at fifteen hands and stared at Eric with glistening blue eyes. Four saddlebags and a water skin hung from its saddle.

Alastair tightened the straps of each saddle and turned to Eric. “The black is Elcano; he has been my horse for a long time. You can ride Briar. He’s a packhorse, but a good gelding. I hope you’ve ridden before.”

Eric hesitated, his tongue tied in embarrassment. He had not been near a horse since his banishment, and even then his family had never been rich enough to own one. He had certainly never
ridden
a horse. He gave a short shake of his head.

A slight smile added colour to Alastair’s face. “Very well then, a quick lesson will have to do for now. There’s no time for more than that. Come here”

Eric moved cautiously to where Alastair stood with the horses.

“Quickly now, stand on Briar’s left side.”

Eric hurried to comply, though the horse seemed to tower over him. Shivering, he placed a hand on Briar’s silky coat. He felt the warmth of the horse beneath the thick hair and drew some comfort from it. The cold of the forest had long since seeped into his bones. He breathed in the scent of mud and straw and horse, the rustic smells bringing memories of his former life. Pain rose in his chest and he quenched the thoughts from his mind.

Looking up at Alastair, he caught the old man’s emerald gaze. Alastair nodded and began to instruct him. “Place the toes of your left boot into the stirrup and grab the saddle horn.”

Eric complied, listening as Alastair continued to speak. “Now push off with your right leg. As you push, straighten your left leg and swing your right over the saddle and into the other stirrup.”

In one smooth movement Alastair demonstrated with Elcano.

Eric tried to copy the movement. He made it halfway before he lost his grip and fell to the ground. He rose with a groan, mentally adding another strike to his tally of bruises. But he refused to quit. Stabbing his foot into the stirrup he half climbed, half scrambled onto the horses back; inhaling a mouthful of horsehair in the process.

For a few seconds he sat doubled over in the saddle, his body racked by a coughing fit. When he finally recovered, he looked up to see an amused grin on Alastair’s face.

The old man gave a weak chuckle. “There’s no time to adjust the stirrups properly, they’ll have to do for now.”

Eric nodded, feeling awkward in the saddle.

“Now, horses are generally trained to obey a few simple commands. To make him move forward, give him a small kick with your heals. If you want to stop, pull back on the reins. Gently mind, you don’t want to hurt his mouth. To change directions, give a small tug in the direction you want him to turn. Got all that?”

Eric nodded silently. The instructions sounded simple enough but he had doubts as to whether that would transfer into reality.

“Alright, let’s get out of here then,” as Alastair spoke Elcano spun beneath him and started into the forest.

Eric gave Briar a short kick. The horse bent its head back to look at him, snorted, and followed the black stallion. The heavy footsteps of the animal beneath him immediately sent jolts up his spine. He grimaced and tried his best to ignore the fresh waves of pain. Gritting his teeth, he focused on keeping himself in the saddle.

After a few minutes he found himself growing used the heavy trot of Briar’s hooves. His body slowly settled into the rhythm of the ride and the pain in his spine began to fade. A wave of weariness swept over him, his body finally giving way to exhaustion. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy.

Eric closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet smell of horse and forest. He listened to the snort of the horse’s breath and the thump of Briar’s footsteps. Within minutes he found himself slipping into a deep sleep.

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

Eric snapped awake, suddenly aware that something had changed. He no longer felt the constant thud of Briar’s footsteps beneath him. They had stopped. Sitting up in the saddle, he looked around in astonishment.

They had left the tiny animal track in the depths of the forest. Instead, they now found themselves on a wide road cutting a straight path through the thick forest either side of them. The hard packed earth beneath them was free of roots and potholes. There was no mistaking it; the horses had found the Gods Road.

“What are we doing here? They’ll be patrolling the road for sure!”

There was no reply from Alastair. Eric glanced across and saw the old man slumped on Elcano’s back. He nudged Briar towards the other horse and was pleased to feel the horse respond immediately.

Eric gulped as he came alongside Elcano. Alastair was unconscious, his breathing weak and rasping. His face was grey and paled, and seemed to have added a hundred extra wrinkles in the last hour. He reached out to shake Alastair – and froze.

From the distance came the thunder of galloping hooves.

It had not taken long to sift through the shattered remains of his family home. There was little left worth keeping – an old cloak and dagger of his fathers, his fiancé’s silver necklace, a few gold coins that were his family’s life savings. And in the ruins of the forge, a short sword an old soldier had once given his father in payment for repairing his wagon wheel.

Gabriel smiled as he lifted the sword from the rubble, its weight satisfying in his hand. He gave a few practice swings, the blade hissing as it cut the air. He had never used a sword before but hoped his strength would suffice.

Pleased with the small collection, Gabriel clipped the sword sheaf to his belt and left the house. He had studiously avoided the room in which his family lay. No force on earth could compel him to face what waited there.

He made his way out into the broken streets of Oaksville, glancing around at the other homeless souls wandering in the darkness. It was time someone gave them purpose. Gabriel had found his in the grim determination to bring justice to his family’s killer. He knew there would be others who felt the same.

His first recruit was a large man who wore the tattered cloak and chainmail of the city guard. From the slump of his shoulders and blank expression there looked to be little fight left in him. He did not look up as Gabriel walked over to him, did not even register his presence until Gabriel reached out and grabbed his arm.

“What’s the matter with you man?” he asked.

The guard blinked as though waking from a deep sleep. Finally he looked down at Gabriel. “What’s the matter with me? They’re all dead. Everyone I ever knew, gone!”

“Ay, they are,” Gabriel held his gaze “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it? This was the work of a demon, haven’t you heard? There’s nothing us mortal men can do to fight the likes of that. No one but the Goddess could stand against such darkness. And the Goddess aren’t exactly easy to reach these days.”

Gabriel shook his head. “The Goddess be damned, if she cared she would have stopped this. No, it’s up to us
mortal
men
,” he stressed the last two words, staring hard at the guard. “We may not have magic, but I have a sword and last I heard a demon still dies when you stab it.”

The guard looked down at Gabriel, a strange look on his face. “You’re just one man.”

“Join me and there will be two.”

The silence stretched out but Gabriel held the man’s gaze.

With a grim smile, the guard nodded. “You’re a tough little bugger. Ay, but you’re right, someone’s got to stand against this evil,” he held out his hand. “The names Tom.”

After that two quickly turned to twenty, and then fifty, then a hundred. All across Oaksville the word went out of the young man gathering fighters to hunt the demon. Many brought horses and weapons to spare. Gabriel soon found himself surrounded by a small army – an army of desperate men with nothing left to lose.

Word came at dawn the old man and boy had been spotted fleeing east through the forest. Several soldiers had followed but so far none had returned. That had been hours ago; there was no telling how far they could have travelled in that time. But sooner or later the forest to the east would run out and they would be forced to return to the Gods Road or risk crossing the Wasteland.

By sunrise Gabriel had sixty mounted men and almost two hundred footmen. He gathered his cavalry at the eastern gate, himself riding a horse one of the recruits had provided. He left orders for the rest to follow down the Gods Road while the cavalry rode ahead to cut off their quarry. 

Gabriel waved to his foot soldiers at the eastern gate, then turned his horse and led the horsemen through the tunnel beneath the wall. His mind was already preoccupied with the chase, obsessed with bringing death to the two they hunted.

The clatter of hooves on the cobbles were deafening in the darkness of the tunnel. Ahead the bright light of the world outside Oaksville beckoned. Gabriel kicked his horse into a trot, eager to return to the light and begin the chase in earnest.

As they emerged he kicked his horse again, forcing the beast to a canter. The wind picked up around him and pulled at his clothes and hair. Within minutes they had reached the forest, and Oaksville had disappeared behind them. Trees towered either side of the road, their branches stretching overhead to blot out the sky. The rising sun flashed through gaps in the canopy as they raced onwards.

The iron-shod shoes of their horses tore the damp ground. The fury of their passage sent leaves whirling into the air behind them. Gone was the stench of the burning city. Gabriel found himself enveloped by the earthly scent of the forest. His horse snorted beneath him, unused to the hard pace he set.

Gabriel was not concerned about the health of their horses. There was only one thought on his mind now. To get ahead of the two they hunted. If they could do that their quarry would be trapped between his cavalry and the men who followed. They would have them – and if it cost a few horses, so be it.

Gabriel smiled at the thought of victory. He could almost see the fear on the demon boys face as he plunged his sword into that black heart, almost smell the blood; taste the thrill of revenge in his mouth.

Yet the memory of their previous encounter still gave him pause. Tom had been right about one thing, the two they faced were no mortal men. He had no doubt it would cost lives to bring an end to them. He prayed the sixty men at his back would be enough.

Ahead the bend in the road straightened. Gabriel felt his heart stop and then start to race. There, not thirty feet away, two horses stood in the middle of the road. Each bore a rider, one lying slumped over his saddle horn. On the second sat the boy –
the demon.
His face was stark with terror, his eyes widening in shock.

Gabriel licked his cracked lips, rethinking his comments to Tom about the Goddess. Antonia had sent them a blessing after all.
We have them!

He kicked his horse into a gallop. Their quarry sat frozen as they raced towards them.

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

Eric could only stare as the horses charged towards them. They had come so close, were almost in the clear, only to be undone by one stupid mistake. The crash of hooves had silenced the forest. He glanced at Alastair, amazed the old man was still unconscious despite the roar of the approaching men.

Eric found himself glued to his saddle, unable to summon the strength to flee. Surely this was his destiny, surely this meant his death was the will of the Gods. He could only watch now as fate raced towards him, chasing all hope from his mind.

A gust of wind rustled the branches above and a light rain began to fall. It was only the remnants of yesterday’s storm. There was no welling of energy within him now. He would sooner die than allow his curse to run rampant again. He shivered as the water began to trickle down his back.

The horses slowed as they approached, the men realising their quarry had given up all thought of escape. Eric saw many had drawn their weapons and held a collection of swords, spears, and crossbows pointed in their direction. He saw the odd uniform of the city guard sprinkled through the crowd but most seemed to wear the plain clothing of the townsfolk.

The reek of smoke reached his nostrils. With it came images of the burning city he had left behind. He stared at the men who had come to avenge their city, whose lives he had forever changed. Each now carried a darkness in their heart, a sadness and hate that would never leave them.

Briar shifted beneath him, slowly turning to face the oncoming horses. His ears lay flat against his skull. He began to snort, tremors rippling through his bunched muscles. Eric could feel the strength in the horse beneath him but they could not flee now. Not with the condition Alastair was in.

Now the hunters were close enough to make out men’s faces. A tingle of shock ran through Eric as he recognised their leader. It was the man from the alley, his face tight with hate, his eyes touched by insanity. Their eyes met and a slight smile appeared on the man’s lips. He kicked at his foam-flecked horse, eager to close the distance.

Then they were there, weapons drawn, crossbows pointed, surrounding them in a circle of death. Their leader – Gabriel, he remembered – lay a short sword across his saddle horn and stared at him.

“I didn’t think it would be so easy.”

The rest of the men did not speak but Eric could feel their silent hate. The air was thick with unvoiced tension.  Eric gripped Briar’s mane, struggling to control his fear. A tremor ran through his body. He squashed it quickly, determined to stay strong.

The silence stretched out, punctuated only by the heavy puffing of the horses.

Gabriel spoke again, his voice rough but calm. “Don’t you have anything to say, demon? Some last trick to play?” He gestured at the circle of men. A few held crossbows carefully trained on the two of them. “Go ahead, see which is faster. An arrow, or magic.”

Eric swallowed, mouth dry. Magic? He had considered the idea before. Yet Magickers were discovered at a young age and born to the noble families. Magic for commoners was the cheap parlour tricks of the circus, never anything of note.

He shook his head. Either way it did not matter. He measured his life now in hours, if not minutes.

Gabriel lips twisted into a cruel smile. Suddenly his fist lashed out across the space between them and slammed into Eric’s ear. Eric rolled back in the saddle, teeth rattling, and only the saddle horn stopped him from tumbling to the ground. His ears rung and tears leapt to his eyes.

“There will be far more where that came from,
demon
,” Gabriel spat. “You will be granted no mercy from
us!
”

Eric choked back tears. He looked around the circle of men and knew Gabriel spoke the truth. It was pointless, but he spoke anyway. “I cannot bring back the ones you have lost. But I swear to you, I did not mean to bring this destruction down on you. And if I have the chance, I swear I will dedicate the rest my life making up for this terrible –”

Eric broke off as Gabriel’s fist smashed into his face again. He made no effort to deflect the blow – he knew any sudden movement would leave him dotted with arrows.

“Do not speak any more lives, demon. You would have us believe that
that
,” he gestured in the direction of the unseen town.
“Was an accident? No, you must be some servant of Archon himself, to wield such horror.”

Eric trembled at the mention of the evil name. Archon was the ancient foe of the Gods, who had brought war and darkness to the Three Nations almost a century before. A spell had banished him before his conquest was complete, though the legends still debated over whom had cast it.

Eric’s anger ate away his fear. “How dare you–?”

A horse’s scream tore the air. Gabriel’s mount reared up, a black shafted arrow materialising in its chest. With a dying cry it tumbled backwards, throwing Gabriel into the midst of his men. Then the air filled with arrows. The shrieks of dying men and horses rang out and madness descended on the hunters.

Eric could only stare in shock.

War cries came from behind him. He turned and saw armed men rushing from the treeline. Most sported thick, matted beards and long unkempt hair. All wore a terrifying scowl on their faces and the black leather armour of roving bandits.

The host emerging from the trees seemed beyond count. A black tide of death engulfed Gabriel’s men. They caved before its onslaught.

A horse crashed into Briar and drove him from the centre of the road. Eric pulled on the reins, struggling to control the horse’s sudden movements. With his free hand he reached for his dagger and swung to face the horseman.

“Come on!” Alastair’s gruff voice shouted over the clashing swords.

The old man now sat straight in the saddle. Colour had returned to his face, although his left arm still hung limp at his side.  He nodded his head towards the forest on the side of the road opposite from which the bandits had appeared. Eric nodded back. He kicked his heels and felt Briar leap beneath him. The horse was just as desperate to escape the scene of battle.

Briar charged through the scattered men and horses, Elcano racing beside him. Bodies bounced off his shoulders and steel tipped hooves but did not slow him. A wall of greenery loomed ahead. Eric ducked his head against Briar’s broad neck, terrified a stray branch would knock him from the saddle. He caught a glimpse of Alastair’s face and swallowed hard – his eyes had lost focus and his skin shone with sweat. He looked ready to pass out again.

Then they were charging through the trees, unwilling to slow down yet coming horrifyingly close to the tree trunks. Branches struck at Eric’s face and arms, tore at him, threatening to throw him from the saddle. His ears throbbed with the erratic beat of his heart. Nothing mattered now but keeping low in his saddle.

The forest briefly opened out and Eric risked a glance back. He glimpsed a single pursuer through the tree trunks. He thought it looked like one of the townsmen. The man rode like a maniac, his eyes locked on their fleeing horses. He raised a crossbow, somehow managing to hold it steady as his horse crashed through the forest. Eric barely caught the telltale twang as it fired. The bolt whistled as it flew, but the shot went wide and struck a tree off to their left. The man tossed the crossbow aside and bent low over his saddle. He spurred his beast faster, eating up the short distance between them.