Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (22 page)

It did not take long for Will to uncover the Void Gauntlets. They were hastily stashed beneath a layer of bedding. To Will’s eye, they appeared as ordinary gloves with a richly decorated protective plate extending from them to cover the forearm like a vambrace, but at his touch, a surge of power rushed through Will’s body. The feeling was not unlike the sensation of letting his Furialist power overwhelm him.

We must find Art
, Will said, gently placing the Gauntlets in the bags strapped to Vale.

Let us exit the way we came,
Vale started.

And smash through the front doors
, Will finished.

They were of one mind. Rushing back into the cold air, Will and Vale dashed through the courtyard. Will spotted a body sprawled in the snow. Nailfram had not made it far from his hiding place behind the shrub before getting cut down.

The doors to the Foyer had been splintered. As he made his way through the wreckage, Will felt his stomach turn at the sight before him.

The corpses of a hundred youths scattered the floor, their finest dresses and tunics soaking in blood. In the center of all the carnage, ten men fitted in black armor surrounded an enormous bull, brandishing long swords. Alone, Scarp fended off the assailants, protecting a motionless shape on the floor. The frevmat’s curly blond forelocks were tinged with the red of blood.

Scarp tossed a man high into the air with a kick, his hoof denting the chest plate with a crunch. Amid the shuffling struggle, Will saw the body guarded by Scarp and grew enraged. A wild shout escaped his lips as he lunged forward, striking down two men with his first slash, his sword biting through armor, flesh and bone. Vale roared, leaping high above the men and landing next to Scarp, baring his long fangs.

Will heard a familiar voice issue a savage cry behind him. He turned to see Caleb charging through the front doors.

Bloodied, but mostly unharmed, Caleb slashed his way to Will through the black-armored swordsmen. “Caleb, have you lost all wits? Run while you can!”

Caleb responded with a grin, “I will not let my protégé claim all the glory in this adventure.” Will smiled himself, glad that the Warrior General was at his side. The remainder of Boewdard’s soldiers sneered brutishly and stepped forward.

“See you on the other side, protégé.”

Red eyes sparking, Will nodded.

The Warriors rushed their assailants with anger in their hearts and bloodlust in their eyes. Enemies fell to sword, horn, and claw until none were left standing.

Will knelt beside the unconscious Art, whose breathing was ragged and pulse was faint. He had been stabbed twice, splotches of blood staining his once-white tunic. Clutched in his hand was an unfamiliar sword; Art must have looted it from one of Boewdard’s men.

“He’ll live if you take him without delay,” Caleb said, inspecting Art’s wounds.

Shouts came from down a darkened corridor, growing closer every moment. “Go, Will, I’ll cover you, but I can only delay them for so long.”

Without time to protest, Will heaved Art’s body onto Scarp’s wide back. Will dropped his shield, grabbing Art’s stolen sword, and swung himself onto Vale. “Run, Scarp, run! Art’s life depends on your swift hooves.”

They pounded out the doors just as Boewdard and his lieutenants arrived in the Foyer. With another feral bellow, Caleb charged at Boewdard but suddenly stopped. Looking back, Will saw Caleb slowly lifted slowly off the ground. Dropping his sword, the Warrior General clutched at his neck as the force suspending him strangled him.

Unable to help, Will shouted, “No!”

Boewdard grinned maliciously and jerked his hand. With a jolt, Caleb’s thick neck snapped. His body went limp and fell heavily to the ground. The friend and mentor Will knew was no more. Caleb had died to help his protégé escape. He urged Vale to run faster. With heavy hearts, they darted out of the courtyard and away from the slaughter.

“Curse you, Brightflame!” Boewdard shouted after them.

A single form pursued them out of the door. It dropped to gallop on four legs, and Ogdin began to close the distance. Will could hear the lycanthrope’s snorting breaths close behind though Vale continued to plod away from the castle as fast as he could. Drawing his sword and wielding the looted blade as well, Will waited for the lycanthrope to attack. As the dark shadow of the lycanthrope leapt forward to snatch Will off of Vale’s back, Will braced himself.

With as much force as he could muster, Will swept both swords back to connect with Ogdin’s chest. The wolf whined as it fell to the ground, transforming once again to human form. Ogdin collapsed in the grass, moaning pathetically and clutching his bleeding body.

Will rode on, heart pounding, and arrived at the stable. The guards Boewdard had placed by the structures had been overrun it seemed; the five of them lay strewn across the ground.

Will saddled Soulfire and transferred his bags from Vale to the eager horse. Will placed Art in the saddle and strapped his feet in the stirrups so that he would not fall. Art’s old horse was nowhere to be found.

Master William, what happens at the castle? Cadets passed through here and took all the others,
Soulfire said.

Boewdard betrayed us and took the Academy by force. He has butchered innocents. We must get out of here, now.

Many of Master William’s friends have died this night; I can feel the Master’s sorrow.

Yes, but there are some we may yet save. We must get to the others.

With his preparations complete, Will jogged beside Vale and Scarp, leading Soulfire along. They ran across the bridge crossing the River Edd and into the forest.

Just before entering the woods, Will looked back at the castle one last time to spy dark shadows swooping out of the air, carrying men in black armor up into the sky to tear them apart with sharp talons and then dropping them back down to earth again. On the ground, a man ran, equipped with a hefty broadsword, towards the castle and the Liberated Army. Only just visible next to the man, an enormous wolf issued a mighty howl.

Will forced his eyes away from Worth, Relic, and the griffins’ final stand and entered the forest. Hours passed in the woods before they caught a sign of the escaped students. Will was still running along when, finally, he spotted tracks on the dark forest floor. They altered their course to follow the tracks, which led deeper into the forest following a beaten game trail.

The darkness of the night deepened, broken only by a sliver of moon. Few stars shone that night as the sky was filled with dark clouds.

Art stirred in the saddle. He opened his eyes weakly. “Will?” Art groaned. “Too. Many. Maribelle… dead.”

Will reached up to steady his friend. “You must tell me later. Recover your strength… While you can.”

Aftermath

Slowly, the night passed, and Will trudged on. He was exhausted but knew he couldn’t rest until he found the others. Morning came with small comfort, for Will knew pursuit would commence in the light of the day.

He had been walking for several hours after the sun had risen when Will heard voices. He stopped the beasts and crept forward to the edge of a clearing. From his vantage point behind a scraggly bush, Will saw the Bladebeard refugees huddled around several bonfires. They talked with furtive voices and cast cautious glances into the wood every once in a while.

Will motioned for the animals to come forward. Together, they entered the small glade. Nervous cadets jumped at the noise of the rustling bush, but recognizing Will, rushed towards him, asking a horde of questions. Where had he gone? How had he escaped?

Pleased that they had avoided detection, Will walked through the crowd to one of the fires.

Smiling wearily, Patrick presented Will with a chunk of bread and a slice of meat. The bread was hard, but Will was grateful for the food. “How’d you get all this?” he asked between mouthfuls.

The fat boy grinned broadly, declaring proudly, “We pinched it. When the fighting started, I knew we’d have to leave the castle. Some recruits and I raided the kitchens. We stole what was leftover from the feast.”

Art was laid near Will while a healer tended to his wounds. As his wounds were closed, Art’s breathing became less shallow and color began to return to his face.

Will smiled slightly, but spotting a Warrior tending to another’s shoulder, the memory of Caleb rushed back to him, and Will grew sullen. Scanning the camp, Will looked for the faces of Ben and Gregor but theirs were not among the scared crowd. He bowed his head; he had lost many friends.

Will stood to address the cadets who still pestered him to recant his story of the night. “I must make this a shortened tale, for the full version will take too much time, time we do not have.” He related what had occurred after the rest had fled, leaving out Nailfram’s request to retrieve the Void Gauntlets, and recounted sadly the death of Caleb. As much as it hurt him to relive the scene, Will thought the Warrior General’s valor deserved to be known.

After the story was told, Will ushered the somber cadets out of the camp and led them deeper into the forest, towards the mountains. The day passed slowly, as the weary refugees resumed their march.

Will consulted with another of the Warriors about which the route they should take. The boy suggested that they should ride to the Sasha Flatlands as he knew well the mountain pass that would lead them to the grasslands. Will agreed and was glad for a chance to recover without the burden of leadership.

By the time they stopped to set up camp for the night, everyone was thoroughly miserable. To further damage morale, the weather had worsened as a strong wind picked up, bringing with it a wintery mix of sleet and freezing rain.

Of the few who were still optimistic, Will and Art, who had woken finally from a feverish slumber, were not among them. They grumbled just as much as the rest, their complaints about the weather issued through chapped lips. Nearly everyone wanted to stop the slow ride winding up the mountain, but knew they must keep moving lest be caught by their pursuers.

That night they heard fiendish dogs howling and baying, a chilling reminder to the hunted that pursuit was not far behind. Cold and exhausted, the youths huddled close to one another, afraid to start fires for fear of detection. Will only half-slept, terrified of the dogs that broke the silence of the snowy forest with their frightful howling that sounded closer and closer as the long minutes crept past.

When morning came, the cadets rode on, weaving up the mountain. Though they grew closer to their destination with each passing step, morale drooped lower, and their pace grew slower. Will feared that soon the party would split.

Three nights after the massacre, they finally reached the narrow mountain pass leading out of the valley and spilling out onto the Sasha Plains. Well traveled, the trail was covered with hoof prints leading both into and out of the valley. As far as Will had been informed, the Sasha Flatlands were a wild land, completely barren of trees and blanketed by tough grasses. Inhabitants were few on the Plains, but those that did settle there constituted nomadic tribes whose mounted raiders were infamously hostile, a fact which prevented most Imperial citizens from attempting to tame the vast grassland.

When night fell, they camped in the pass, and it began to rain. Slowly at first, the frigid droplets soon came down in great sheets that blew almost horizontally with the gusts of wind sweeping through the narrow pass.

Will drew his hood disgustedly and tried to strike up conversation with Art. However, Will’s efforts were halfhearted, and the attempt to raise spirits only succeeded to depress them both further. Though Art had now fully recovered from his wounds, he could not forget the night he received them. Obvious in his speech were the pain of loss and the intense hatred he harbored for Boewdard and his men. Art’s psychological pain lingered like winter’s chill, honed by the loss of his school and his friends.

To avoid the rain, the refugees sought shelter under the canopies of trees, huddling close to the trunks and sitting amid broken stones that scattered the earth.

Howls alerted Will late in the night, causing his heart to leapt with fear. The cries were close and fierce. Trying his best to silently explain to the cadets why they couldn’t sleep any longer, Will woke the others. Packing up quickly, they mounted their weary beasts and fled the cover of the trees. Rain came down on their hoods, and fear hovered over the caravan. Expecting to be overtaken any moment, Will jumped with each howl.

Master William, I am tired and in need of rest. Can we stop soon?

Soulfire, please, you must keep on. We are almost there. There are beasts and men behind us; they hunt us with a fervor I have never before encountered. If we stop, they will destroy us all,
Will explained to the horse.

Then, we must keep going. Onward and upward
, Soulfire replied determinedly. Will patted Soulfire’s rain-soaked neck.

At the summit of the pass, Will looked back. Dark in the distance, the castle was merely a speck, but Will could see it as if he were there. Its turrets crumbled and lay smoldering upon the ground; the remaining towers spouted fire from their windows. In his mind’s eye, Will saw the Emperor’s colors flown above Imperial troops led by his father marching through the wrecked castle doors. Help had arrived, only too late. Will looked at Art who was riding beside him on top of Scarp. Art too was looking back in the direction of the castle. When Art spotted Will, he removed his hood despite the rain. Tears streamed from his eyes. Will’s nightmare had come true.

Unbeknownst to Will, however, the nightmare was only beginning. The cadets continued to ride on, clambering down the leeward side of the mountain quickly. But they had not left pursuit far behind; the hunting dogs were in pursuit. The cadets were halfway down the pass when an arrow zipped past Will’s head and buried itself in a horse’s flank.

Its scream pierced the night, and suddenly, the howls of dogs seemed to sound from all around them. The wounded horse kicked violently, unseating the girl atop it and galloping into the dark wood.

“Fly away! Go now!” Will shouted, tugging Soulfire’s reins to keep him from bolting.

“To where, Will? We cannot run any longer. Our enemy has kept close all this time we have been ‘flying.’ Our horses are tired and cannot outrun their foul beasts. I ask now, fly where? To the tops of the trees?” Art shouted angrily as arrows began to issue from between the dark trees. A boy caught one dart in his throat, falling from his charger. Landing facedown in the mud, he did not rise, his blood mixing with the murky puddle.

Frantically, Will thought hard, but he knew Art was right. The horses could not move any faster; they were spent.
Wait, the trees!
“Yes, grab your bows and fly. Fly to the tops of the highest tree you can climb! Make haste and fly! FLY!”

Tethering Soulfire to a thick pine, Will began to climb. With his bow, Will hoped he could ward off the pursuers. More cadets followed Will’s lead, scampering up trees as best they could. Will called to Vale, who used his sharp claws to climb the tree, perching next to Will on a thick bough. Art sat with his oak bow on a limb below. Silence settled as they waited.

The pursuers drew closer, and light cast from their torches could be seen flickering just outside of the ring of horses. Art looked nervously down at Scarp, who could not climb the tall trees. Then, Will spotted the dogs that had harried them at night. More demon than dog, their cries made his blood run cold and his hair stand on end. Fiery yellow eyes gleamed maliciously as they licked their chops, anticipating the blood that was to flow. Disgusting, black drool dribbled from their mouths. There were five of them, snapping as they circled the anxious horses.

Master William?
Soulfire asked nervously.

Soulfire, take heart. These men will not hurt you,
Will said encouragingly.

Through their mental link, Will felt Vale’s frown.
You fill the horse’s mind with promises, but they are empty words.

What would you have me do?

Vale said nothing. Will felt in his mind the frevmat’s fear and doubt. Outstretching his hand, Will scratched behind the leopard’s ear comfortingly.

Whatever happens this night,
Will said.
I will always be by your side.

And I will fight by you until my final breath,
Vale purred.

The enemy stepped ever closer. Unarmored, the five men walked with easy confidence. Their torches seemed oblivious to the rain falling heavily around them. Black hoods cloaked their faces against the light in their hands.
In their hands?
The light, Will then noticed with surprise, did not stem from torches, but from their clenched fists. These men were different from Boewdard’s men at the Academy; they were elite soldiers, as eager as their dogs at the thought of bloodshed.

The five stood tall, their cloaks whipping about their forms with the wind. Their cruel laughter echoed in the pass as the dogs snarled, making the horses whine nervously. Many cadets were so badly scared, they would have screamed and run in hysterical fear should they have not been firmly rooted to their branches with mouths frozen shut.

One by one, the five threw back their black hoods, revealing strikingly handsome but wholly evil faces. Their eyes gleamed red much like Will’s did when he was angry. Frightening as they were, Will saw something disturbingly familiar in their faces.

Will drew back his bow and took aim at one’s head. “Brightflame, loose that arrow and know that the consequences will be dire,” the tracker hissed. His voice, barely a whisper, was menacing and dangerous. “Lower the bow, William.” The words had a tempting effect. They danced around in Will’s head, and slowly, he released tension from his bowstring.
Good boy.

The man below spoke again in his smooth voice, “We want only what you have taken from us, Brightflame. Return that which does not belong to you, and we will leave. No blood needs to be shed tonight.”

“Will!” Art shouted, from his seat below. Will came back to his senses, notching the arrow once more. Ignoring the man’s enchanted speech, Will loosed a finely crafted arrow.

The arrow zipped nearly invisible in the night, but at the last second, the man deflected the arrow with a jet of fire issuing from his hand. As Will gaped in astonishment, the man laughed, a foul bark. A girl in a nearby tree wailed loudly.

A chorus of their vile laughter again filled the clearing. The men whistled to their demon hounds and cackled even louder. Growling, the dogs closed in on the tethered horses. Will shouted to the cadets, loosing an arrow at a dog. The arrow dug into the dog’s flank. The animal whimpered and bit at the shaft, which broke, leaving the head to grind about in the muscle.

“Aim for the hounds. Loose, now!” Will commanded. A volley flew out of the trees so that it seemed as if the trees were launching their needles at the savage dogs. Some of the arrows hit their target, but most did not. Whining, the dogs backed behind their fell masters.

The men’s red eyes flared brighter with new anger. They stepped forward and began to torch the trees the refugees had climbed with jets of flames issuing from their hands. The man who seemed to be the leader hissed, “We will seize what is ours, Brightflame, and wrench it from your charred corpse.”

The flames licked the trunks of the pines, readily eating away bark with their hot teeth despite the damp conditions. With the fire growing higher, Will felt despair. He had led the cadets so far, pushing at a relentless pace, only to die, scorched and filled with sorrow.

Vale, with his sharp ears, alerted Will of a new presence lurking in the woods,
Men, many of them, riding swift steeds, hidden by the trees there. Look, they approach
.

Savage whoops rang from all around the burning trees. Horsemen dashed forth from the dark, mounted on slim coursers. The five men fled before the riders’ spears, disappearing into the dark woods and leaving their prey behind to burn. The riders charged down the vile dogs before they too escaped after their masters. Their last howls sent chills down Will’s spine.