Beyond the Edge of Dawn (36 page)

Many Partings

Dag watched the sun emerge from behind the moon. The moment of their doom had passed, and his band of survivors still lived. Sounds of battle faded almost immediately. Dag looked around in disbelief. Werebeasts dropped dead where they stood. Some tried to escape once they recognized the threat. They burst into flames or simply dissolved where they stood.

The older man clapped his hands and barked a laugh. Kavan and the others had succeeded! Malweir was saved from the dark gods. Only then did Dag take account of his surroundings. Lars was dead, as were most of the others. Dag lamented their sacrifice, necessary as it had been. After a series of devastating quakes, the world returned to calm. Dag, wounded and barely on his feet, was ready to collapse.

The Gaimosians emerged from the destruction of Gessun Thune and dropped. Men rushed to their aid. None had believed that any could have survived the battle underground. Dag glanced up at the commotion and wormed his way towards them.

“Clear away! Let me through, damn it.”

Dag regretted yelling. All of them were exhausted beyond belief. All were wounded. Some wouldn’t last the day. His real regret stemmed from not knowing the names of the men, and those few women, who had died. They deserved better than to become a lonely pyre in the middle of nowhere.

He knelt beside Kavan’s fallen form. “By the gods, lad. You did it.”

Kavan groaned. “Remind me not to do that again.”

Dag and those around him broke out in laughter. The battle of Gessun Thune was over.

Kavan’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to move, but his body argued otherwise. Every muscle ached. After long minutes of trying, he finally rose high enough to examine himself. His chest was heavily bandaged, confirming more broken ribs. His eyes were bruised, swollen. Two teeth were missing. Candles lit the small tent enough for him to see he wasn’t alone. His eyes gradually focused on Phirial’s trembling figure.

“How?” he asked weakly.

Tears streamed down her face. “We arrived this afternoon. They told me you were still alive. Oh, Kaven.”

He tried to smile, but it hurt too much. Instead, he dropped back onto the cot. “I feel dead.”

“You look horrible,” she joked.

His eyes softened. “Thanks for confirming it. What happened at Kalad Tol?”

Phirial sat down softly beside him, careful not to bump him. “We won, though I don’t know how. One minute, they were coming over the wall, and the next, they were in full retreat. I didn’t see much of it, though. Barum and Pharanx kept me the furthest from the fighting, under guard the whole time.”

Kavan smiled genuinely. He knew his friends wouldn’t let him down. “Where are they now? I’d like to speak with them.”

She hesitated. “Barum is with Aphere; so is Geblin.”

“What of Pharanx?”

Phirial lowered her eyes. “He’s dead.”

She went on to explain how he had led a suicide mission behind enemy lines and never returned. She told him how Barum had stepped up and led the brave Fist to repel wave after wave of Aradainian soldiers. Kavan could see the events play out in his mind. The attack was working, almost to the point of swarming the defenses and opening the gates. The battle paused during the eclipse. Once it passed, the enemy lost their will to fight. They broke contact and left the battlefield.

“No one knows why,” she finished. “At first, we thought it was a trap, but after an hour, it was clear they had retired. They even left their wounded behind. Kavan, all of those men died, and for what?”

“That’s war, my love,” he told her.

A new shine filled her eyes upon hearing him call her that.

“What happened next?”

Phirial reached out to take his hand. “Barum took command. Wurz was too badly injured. We left half of the Fist behind to see to the wounded and then hurried here. Geblin was the most insistent. The rest, you know. Is it truly over?”

He sighed. “Yes. I believe it is.”

Fresh tears broke loose. “Kavan, I love you.” Her voice was timid, but the words were loud in his ears. His heart felt alive for the first time.

Kavan looked at her dark, red hair and soft, blue eyes. “I love you too.”

They stayed in Gessun Thune for the remainder of the night and most of the next day. Dag and Barum shared command of the ragtag bunch. They piled the dead and burned the bodies with honor. Kavan insisted on leaving as soon as possible. The fighting may have ended, but he continued to feel ill at ease in the shadows of such an evil place. Thoughts of the men he’d left behind tormented him. Mabane. Pirneon. Once the last fire burned out, the survivors loaded the wounded into wagons, and the small train headed back to Kalad Tol. Phirial never left Kavan’s side. Neither did Barum stray too far from Aphere.

Much changed in the kingdom of Aradain the day the dark gods resumed their exile. None of the heroes were foolish enough to believe that war was finished. Another thousand years would pass before the fate of the world again hung in the balance, this time in the foul land of Gren. But that is a tale for another time.

Their army routed, commanding general dead, the people of Aradain braced for the worst. A subsonic wave washed over Rantis in the exact moment the nexus closed. A high-ranking official rushed to the royal chambers to inform the king. When there was no answer, the guards broke the doors down. What they saw sickened them.

Eglios, king of Aradain, lay dead in a gathering pool of blood and bodily secretions. No one would ever learn the truth, never knowing that Corso’s power over him was so strong Eglios’s mind couldn’t withstand the pressure of being relieved so quickly. He’d died in terrible agony while his city slept. So it was the influence of the dark gods passed from Aradain. Life was given the opportunity to return to normal. But it would be long before the wounds healed. So many had died in the name of evil. The kingdom carried a stain with it until the day it fell into decay and was no more.

A month passed before Kavan and the others were healed enough to take their leave of the Fist. Wurz, the taciturn Dwarf, placed Tym in command until he fully recovered from his wounds. The mercenary unit was equally crippled. Less than one hundred remained out of their original five. Dag and his band of survivors remained at the old fortress. The big man and Dwarf hit it off immediately. So it was that one drunken night they agreed to an alliance.

Every man was given the option to stay with the group or strike out on his own. Some left, but most stayed. Eventually, the Fist abandoned Kalad Tol and headed east. They fought in occasional conflicts along the way before running into Aphere again. She invited them to travel with her. The Fist slowly faded into legend. Their deeds and exploits became the talk of barrooms and taverns.

Of Corso’s black tower, there was no word. Men stayed away from that forest. It was rumored that an apparition dressed in black robes stalked the trees at night. Those who strayed into the wood were often never seen again. Many centuries later, during the great age of Mages, a brash young man named Sidian would undertake a mission to rid the world of that spook. His exploits would be well known by every living soul in Malweir.

A crisp winter wind blew across the ancient mountain. A ring of torches lent color to the otherwise pale moonlight. Two figures, a man and woman, stood with hands clasped before them. Their identities were carefully concealed from the onlookers. Several others lined a stone path rising up from the valley floor.

Pine trees and firs lined the clearing, with juniper bushes marking the path. A broken stone lay before the man and woman. It was the ancient symbol of a forgotten time. Tens of thousands of warriors once stood on this very spot in the hopes of becoming more than themselves.

It hadn’t been used in generations. All of the mystique and power laced deep in this small acre of land slowly faded beyond memory. Long had it been since Man knew the glory of such. This was Skaag Mountains, and here ordinary Gaimosians became knights.

A chime echoed from deep in the woods.

The man announced, “Let the supplicant come forward.”

Dressed in robes of purest white, the supplicant marched with deliberate intent. His heart beat just that extra bit more. All of the long years of training and dedication had paid off. At long last, he was going to join his ancestors. Their glory and valor was now his own. Barum had never been more proud. He stopped before the broken stone.

“Kneel out of obedience to your dedication,” the woman commanded.

Barum knelt. The midnight moon was directly overhead, the sky bright and cloudless. Dag, Geblin, Wurz, and more fell in behind. They’d all been instructed in their parts.

Aphere spoke from beneath her hood. “From the dawn of the world, select men and women have come forward in times of peril and unrest. All readily accept the burden of sacrifice, dedicating their entire lives to the pursuit of justice.”

Kavan continued, “The weak shall be protected, the wicked punished. The road will be long and unforgiving. Often, decisions must be made for the greater good rather than personal interest. Can you discharge these duties faithfully and without pause?”

“Yes,” Barum said, bowing his forehead to the stone.

“Will you sacrifice yourself in order that justice be done?” Aphere asked.

“Yes,” he repeated the gesture.

Aphere and Kavan raised their arms high into the night sky. The chime rang again. Both drew their swords and carefully laid the blades on Barum’s shoulders.

“Rise, Barum of the House Keidi. Shed your former life, and arise a knight of ancient Gaimos,” Aphere instructed.

Barum rose slowly.

Aphere smiled from beneath her hood. “Welcome to the fold.”

The gathering held its collective breath as the chime sang three times. As the echoes of the third faded, they broke into applause. Barum was officially a Vengeance Knight. They rushed to embrace him. Each offered congratulations. Aphere and Kavan lowered their hoods. They’d been waiting for this moment since the Kergland Spine, and now, almost a year later, Barum was rewarded. As was tradition, Barum led them all to a large pyre constructed on the far side of the clearing. He lit it in honor of all the fallen. It was only after the fires burned out the celebration began.

So it was that the order of Gaimosian Knights continued.

Kavan lost the urge to fight. He and Phirial took their oaths to each other and left the world behind. That night on Skaag Mountain became his last official act as a knight. They settled down in a quiet part of the world. Phirial gave him three sons and a daughter with fiery red hair like her mother.

For her love, Kavan built a nice sized cabin just south of the great Relin Werd. Eventually, others would come, and a village would spring up around him. Men came to call the village Fel Darrins. Centuries later, Kavan’s descendants would give birth to a baby boy and lovingly name him Delin.

“I love you,” Barum told Aphere.

She blushed much the same as she always did when he told her. “I love you more.”

He smiled. The years of knighthood had been kind. He and Aphere had married a few years after his induction ceremony. She had gone on to become one of Kistan’s greatest students. Without powers of his own, Barum had become the captain of the guard. At first, others protested having a military arm in their community, but recent events in Gessun Thune calmed their ire. The Fist, and Dag, comprised the rest of the guard.

The community along the shores of Thuil Lake steadily grew. The great castle was erected and fast became the focus of knowledge and learning for all Malweir. Aphere and Barum sat looking down on Ipn Shal, though they only had eyes for each other. She reached out to take his hand. Together, they walked slowly back down the hill to enjoy a new day in a brand new world.

END

Thank you for taking the time to enjoy my Novel. I hope you will continue enjoying my work by following a link on the next page.

The Northern Crusade Series

Hammers in the Wind

Tides of Blood and Steel

A Whisper After Midnight

Empire of Bones

The Madness of Gods and Kings

Even Gods Must Fall

A History of Malweir Series

Armies of the Silver Mage

The Dragon Hunters

Beyond the Edge of Dawn

Christian W. Freed was born in Buffalo, N.Y. He recently retired from a twenty year career in the U.S. Army. Armies of the Silver Mage is his first book for sale and was written during his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Much of the experiences and battle sequences in his novels come from his three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan and a keenly developed understanding of military tactics. He graduated from Campbell University with a degree in history and is pursuing a Masters of Arts degree in Military History from Norwich University. He currently lives outside of Raleigh, N.C. and devotes his time to writing and to his family and their two Bernese Mountain Dogs.