Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (6 page)

The chaos was sheer terror to the mind of
seven-year-old Brynlee Falls.

Heralds of the high king’s army blew their
trumpets, a deep, bone-chilling reverberation that sent shivers
down Brynlee’s spine. Next to her, Scarlett, her baby sister,
clutched her ears to quell the awful noise.

With tiny trembling fingers Brynlee Falls
reached out and took her father’s lifeless hand with a sense of
dawning horror. “Papa? Papa!” She shook him, wanting him to wake
up, wanting to gaze upon his beautiful tawny eyes one last
time.

A contingent of Aberdourian soldiers in full
regalia sprinted toward them down the main road. Captain Khalous
Marloch ordered Brynlee and Scarlett out of the street. He shouted
for Brayden too, but her brother was lost in his sorrow, crying in
a manner that Brynlee had never seen from him before. It chilled
her skin and frightened her.

“Secure the city!” a guard shouted.

Hundreds of soldiers ran to their defensive
positions on the battlements, swords carried prudently at their
sides. The great portcullis of the southern wall descended.

Brynlee pulled her sister in close to her,
not noticing the blood on her fingers until her hands soiled the
flowered patterning of Scarlett’s ivory dress. It was their
father’s blood, and Brynlee shivered at the sight of it. She wiped
her hands on the folds of her skirt and then swiveled Scarlett to
face her. The girl looked more confused than afraid, her big brown
eyes peeking out from behind a few loose strands of rich brown
hair.

“It’s going to be all right,” Brynlee said,
though more to calm herself than her sister.

A single horse galloped up the path toward
the city carrying a man in ragged brown clothes. He stopped at the
gate and held up his hand, begging the soldiers to let him in.
Straddling the horse with him was a young girl in gray slacks and a
long forest green tunic who Brynlee recognized.

“Lia!” she said, springing toward the
entrance. “Someone raise the gate!”

Her tiny voice was lost in the rising din of
the city. Soldiers trampled past her to ready the defensive
weapons, massive wood and iron contraptions of varying sizes
capable of launching rocks, flaming drums of oil, and massive
spears. Citizens rushed arrows to the walls to aid the archers at
the crenels while others hoisted pots of hot oil on pulleys.

Brynlee reached her hand through the bars of
the portcullis, calling out for Lia. “Raise the gate!”

“My lady!” a soldier shouted as he came to
pull Brynlee away. “We must seal the entrance. You can’t—”

“But it’s Lia!” she yelled.

When the soldier noticed the young princess
on the other side of the gate, his eyes widened. “My lady! What are
you doing out there?” His gaze tipped to the men above. “Raise the
gate! Now!”

The massive portcullis lifted to allow the
horsed stranger and the young princess of Aberdour to enter.
Soldiers then rushed to seal the entrance behind a pair of massive
double doors, which they reinforced with two thick iron bars.

Brynlee ran to her sister and threw her arms
around her waist.

“The Black King’s vipers,” Lia said,
breathless, “on the northern hills. They–they killed them. Thomas
and Abigail. They’re dead!”

Khalous strode up to her, unfastening his
long blue cape from the metal shoulders of his armor. He left it on
the ground in a heap. “Where are the vipers?”

The rough and ragged looking man who had
ridden in with Lia, said, “A band of them are making their way
through the forest path. Sir Komor Raven is leading the pack.”

“The Raven?” Khalous said.

Brynlee wondered if that was fear she saw in
his slate gray eyes.

After a brief pause for consideration,
Khalous issued a slew of orders to the men of the King’s Shield:
“Get the king to the castle, and find the queen! Gather their
children and take the eastern tunnels out of the city.”

The secret tunnels, escape routes for the
king. Brynlee had been fascinated when she’d read about them in her
schoolbooks, but now, faced with the prospect of actually using
them, she was far less enthused.

“The tunnels?” said Pick. “You intend to
abandon Aberdour?”

“The protection of the city is not our job,”
Khalous said. “The protection of the king and his family is. Get
them out! Brynlee, Scarlett, Lia, follow me. Brayden!”

Brynlee saw her brother still kneeling by
their father’s side. He looked startled when Khalous walked over to
him and yanked him to his feet.

“Pull yourself together, lad!” Khalous
demanded. “Your father is dead, and you will be too if you don’t do
as I say.” He looked at the girls. “The men who are coming here
will not show you mercy because you are children. If they get in
here, and it is likely they will, they will rape you and slit your
throats.”

Most people liked the plain manner in which
Khalous Marloch spoke, direct with no flowery words to coat his
meanings. Brynlee did not.

“Now do as I say and stay close to me,”
Khalous said. “We’re going back to the castle to—”

A thundering collision of rock and fire
exploded above the portcullis. The impact sent a flaming mess of
stone and wood showering onto the street. Khalous pulled Brynlee
and Scarlett into him, covering them with his broad shoulders as
the debris rained down upon them.

Screaming ensued, women’s voices and
men’s.

“Trebuchets!” came a shout from the
wall.

Trebuchets. At mention of the towering
catapults, Brynlee’s little body trembled with fear. She’d read
about the war machines in her schoolbooks and knew full well the
devastation they were capable of. They would demolish Aberdour, she
was sure of it.

“Take cover!”

“Go!” Khalous ordered.

Brynlee grabbed Scarlett’s hand and ran up
the main street. Fear wrestled with courage inside her stomach, but
her determination pushed her on. She heard more boulders slam into
the city’s defenses. People wailed all around her.

“There you are!” said a young woman.

Brynlee looked up and saw her older sister
riding toward her atop a lithe brown horse. The animal skidded to a
stone-spitting stop. Dana Falls dismounted in an elegant rush of
green dress folds and fortitude. She hurried to Brynlee and
Scarlett, wrapped them in a desperate hug, and said, “I’ve been
looking everywhere for you!”

Brynlee sobbed into her sister’s velvet
shoulder. “Papa. It’s… he’s gone. The soldiers killed him.”

“What?”

Khalous put a firm hand on Dana’s shoulder
and said, “Dana, listen to me. I need you to—”

“Our father,” Dana said, “is he really–did
they really…” but Brynlee could tell that she didn’t want to say
the words.

“He is dead,” Khalous said plainly. Then,
before the adolescent girl could break down, he added, “I need you
to help me get your sisters and your brother back to the castle. We
need to get your mother and Broderick and—”

“Mama’s gone.”

Dana’s words, sown together with unhidden
grief, made Brynlee’s stomach tighten like a knot.

The captain’s shoulders slouched. “What
happened?”

“Black vipers from the north, they came in
so swift and quick.” Dana’s mouth clamped shut as tears welled in
her eyes. “She’s gone. They took her. They killed her. She’s
gone.”

“No,” Brynlee whimpered. She pressed herself
into Dana.

Khalous’ face paled. “And Broderick?”

A massive black boulder drew Brynlee’s eyes
to the sky. Arching its way into the city it struck a nearby
watchtower in a spray of dust and mortar.

A huge fist latched onto Brynlee’s shoulder
and lifted her out of the way. It was Khalous, and he had Scarlett
tucked under his other arm, her tiny legs kicking, cheeks covered
in frightened tears. Brynlee glanced behind her and watched the
tower fall across the road in a billowy haze of gray dust.

“All of you,” Khalous said, “stay close to
me.” He sounded angry, unlike any tone Brynlee had ever heard him
use before.

The alarm bells of the city were ringing
again.

“They could not have breached the city
already,” said Pick in astonishment.

“Move!” ordered Khalous.

Brynlee hurried after her siblings,
following the captain up the road. They passed by terrified
commoners running for protection and more Aberdourian soldiers
racing toward the gate to join the fight.

They passed the deserted wagons of the
city’s vendors, some spilled in haste, with horses, goats, sheep,
and a lazy black pig left roped to their hitching posts. Stores had
been left open and abandoned by their owners—the brick burner, the
silversmith, the man who baked the tiny cakes. She saw Jonathan
Mills, the potter who made the funny cups with the faces on them,
furiously nailing boards over the door to his shop as if that would
quell the invading brood.

Brynlee cringed at the thought of black
vipers stampeding into Aberdour. Her tutors had described them as
merciless men, driven to be cruel by the will of the Black King.
Orkrash Mahl had begun his campaign three years ago when he
conquered the capital city of Perth on the west coast. From there
he made his way across the realm, giving rise to what had come to
be called the Falls of Edhen as kingdom after kingdom succumbed to
his rule.

Aberdour was the last of nine.

By the time Brynlee and her siblings were
approaching the castle, so had the battle. Enemy soldiers clashed
swords with Aberdour’s finest in the muddy streets, slaughtering
civilians, and setting fire to their homes. Soldiers from both
sides were lying dead in mucky pools of blood, the reek of which
made her gag.

“Those aren’t vipers,” Pick said.

Khalous led the Falls children down an
alleyway. They stopped and crouched low.

Brynlee huddled behind a wooden barrel and
peered out into the street. The enemy soldiers she saw were not
adorned with the symbol of the high king. They didn’t look like
black vipers at all. They were bigger, feral, and covered in
tattered animal skins.

“Jackdaws?” Pick asked.

The word made every muscle in Brynlee’s tiny
body tense with fright.

“No,” Khalous said. “Not even Orkrash
himself could tame a Jackdaw enough to fight for him. These are
barbarians. Hired muscle from the north.”

Brynlee watched one of the barbarian
soldiers grapple with a young woman. He threw her to the ground and
tore open her dress. His giant fingers, greased in blood and filth,
clutched at her unblemished skin. He unfastened his belt, fussed
with his pants for a moment, and then plunged his hips down into
the woman. She screamed and beat his shoulders, but her fists were
like gnats against stone.

A man, who looked old enough to be the
woman’s father, sprinted out of a small cottage, a short sword
raised high. He charged the barbarian, shouting in rage, until a
second soldier plunged a bone axe into the man’s gut.

Brynlee fought down a wave of nausea as the
barbarian proceeded to scalp the man.

Dana’s hand slipped under Brynlee’s chin and
pull her head away from the awful sight. “Don’t watch,” she said,
her voice quivering. “Stay down. Look at me.” She brushed dirt and
hair from Brynlee’s cheeks. “We’re almost there. We just need to be
brave.”

Brynlee withered, shrinking into herself.
“I’m scared. I want mama.”

Dana pulled her in for a quick hug. “I know.
Me too, love.”

Khalous wiped his forearm across his
sweat-sheened face. “Down!” he whispered.

Everyone huddled low as a group of barbarian
soldiers ran past the alleyway, their cold steel drenched in
Aberdourian blood.

“You know what we do when we’re scared,
Bryn?” Dana asked.

Brynlee looked up at her sister, eagerly
awaiting the answer.

“We pretend to be someone else. Someone
stronger.”

“Like papa?” Brynlee asked.

Dana smiled. “Yes, yes! Like papa. Can you
do that?”

Brynlee nodded.

Khalous snapped his fingers at them,
signaling them to follow him.

A moment later Brynlee ran out from the
alleyway and into the streets of Aberdour once again. She wasn’t
herself though. She was her father, a mighty warrior in thick
armor, with true grit and stone cold courage.

The sight of blood had never troubled Dana.
She was three when Lia was born and though her memory of the
incident was vague she could still see the blood from her mother’s
open belly as the assistant stitched her closed. She had seen the
wounds of a hunter mauled by a bear when she was six, fetched water
and clean bandages for one of her family’s tearmann when he was
attacked by Jackdaws, and she had put stitches into Broderick’s leg
after he cut himself on a nail when he was eight.

Dana had stomached things that had made even
her brothers curl their lips, but today was putting her mettle to
the test.

She led Brayden, Lia, Brynlee, and Scarlett
up the street to the castle, her careful eyes never ceasing their
scan of the surroundings. She analyzed the corners as she ran and
watched the body language of Khalous and Pick for hints of oncoming
danger.

In the back of her mind Dana fought down
thoughts of her father and mother, both now dead. Her eyes were
hot, but dry, and she intended to keep them that way, at least for
now. After the battle there would come a moment, she knew, when she
could allow herself to process this nightmare. Then she could fall
apart. Then she could mourn. But not now. Now she had to be
strong.

The gray castle of Aberdour appeared just
over the rise, broad and tall, strong and proud. The front entrance
faced south, its outer columns and stonework decorated with
elaborate carvings of plants and beasts and scenes from ancient
tales. Since the Black King’s arrival on Edhen, the castle of
Aberdour had become a symbol of fortitude and hope for the entire
realm, an immovable rock amidst the wash of the high king’s flood.
Not any more.