Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (26 page)

The low peal of a hunting horn sounded from the trail. The noise echoed in the sleeping forest, then was sounded again. Shouts and the baying of hounds carried in the air.

Turning on a dime, the Hunters grabbed Art and Ehan, sprinting away from the clearing, leaving their fellow behind in the snow. Will and Vale dashed after them. Will stopped short and hurled his dagger at the Hunter carrying Ehan, who dropped the unconscious boy and stumbled after his comrades,
ripping the blade from his shoulder.

Will threw his second knife at the Hunter bearing Art but missed well short. Will was losing Art; the Hunters had captured him.

No! Not yet.

Wanting, needing to rescue his friend, Will dashed ahead, following in the wake of the rogue Furialists as they crashed through the undergrowth. Suddenly, Will felt a tug on his pant leg. Will tripped, landing in the snow and watched Art disappear into the woods. Struggling to get back to his feet, he wept as Vale held him down. Will screamed and struggled to free himself, but Vale would not let him go.

You will only die. It hurts me to let Art go, but I cannot let you sacrifice yourself,
Vale said with grief in his voice.

Retrieving his sword, Will trudged through the trees, dragging Ehan’s unconscious body behind him. When he arrived at the camp, Will saw a group of men crouched over the netted and defenseless Scarp. A hunting hound, small in comparison to the Hunter’s, barked at Will.

“Leave him! Or I will run you through,” Will shouted, laying Ehan down and gripping his sword in a shaking hand.

“Steady now. We merely intended to free the creature,” a slim man said, approaching Will with his empty hands outstretched. “What happened here?”

Will saw the horses, three of them, slight and sure-footed beasts all, good for scouting. He noted the colors on the surcoats of the men; they were Emperor’s men, bearing the colors of the Imperial army. Suddenly weak, Will lowered his blade and sank to his knees.

Seeing that Will would not strike, one of the scouts took up his dagger again, sawing at the net that still ensnared Scarp. The ropes frayed and finally snapped.

Scarp struggled to rise, shaking the net and the scout off him. He snorted wildly, steam rising from his large nostrils, and glared at Will with horrified eyes. Then, the aurochs thundered away into the forest, spraying snow each hoof tearing up the earth.

Will stood and made to follow, but Vale swatted him to the ground again with a paw.

Vale shouted at Will through the mental link,
The Hunters will kill you. I cannot let you go!

Feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks, Will stopped struggling against his frevmat. Scarp had disappeared. It was no use anyway; Will could not leave Ehan behind, but would not catch the Hunters if he brought the unconscious Sashan along.

Sitting by Ehan, Will wept for Art.

One of the scouts crouched beside him, asking again, “We are outriders from the Academy. General Stormhand saw the smoke on the trail and sent us to investigate. The Hunters have been spotted in the area, you know.”

After a long while, Will got up and wiped his eyes. Turning to the scouts, he said with a voice devoid of emotion, “The Hunters you track have been through here. They fled at the sound of your horn.”

“Hunters!” the three scouts gasped in unison. “And you survived them?”

“Aye, though my friend has been taken.” Will’s head sunk, his eyes downcast.

“A tragic loss. And yet, you live. One must ask, how?”

“I slew most all their dogs. The first Hunter charged me in his rage. I killed that one. The others ran.”

The slim scout stepped forward to grasp Will’s shoulder comfortingly. “Show me the body. Leave your friend here. Trevor, start up that fire again. Fear not, the boy will be safe with my men. They will keep him warm until he wakes.”

Nodding, Will eased Ehan onto the ground next to their dying fire. The scout, Trevor, sprang to his feet to gather kindling and a few dry branches.

Sniffing the air loudly, Vale padded along beside Will on silent paws when they ventured back to the clearing. Will saw the dead Hunter out of the corner of his eye. He called upon magic, hanging the man from a branch by the cloak. The dangling body was a gruesome testimony of Will’s power and a memorial to the tragedy that had taken place.

With eyes red from tears and great hatred, Will retrieved the Hunter’s blue blade, which gleamed white at his touch. Inspecting the blade, Will suddenly plunged the sword violently into the hanging body, leaving it protruding from the dead Furialist’s chest.

“Gods be good!” the slim scout exclaimed horrified. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

“He cannot feel it anymore,” Will said darkly, though wishing that the Hunter could; the Furialist who had betrayed his race and captured his best friend deserved a slower death.

Without another word, Will stomped back through the snow to the camp where a fire cackled happily as if nothing had happened. A few hours passed and, at length, Ehan stirred. His eyes cracked open, squinting. Suddenly, his head shot up. He looked around anxiously, groping for the curved knife in his belt.

“Calm, Ehan, you are safe, but all is not well,” Will said, not looking up from his marked hand. Seeing that he was not a captive, Ehan relaxed, looking at Will and breathing heavily.

“All is not well?” Ehan said slowly. “Where is Arthur? Will, when you left, I… I cannot remember.”

Will placed his hand on Ehan’s shoulder. “Art has been taken,” he said, finding it nearly impossible to utter those few words.

“Where? Who took him? Will, answer me.” Ehan sat up.

Will pushed him back down. “You need rest, lie back. The Five captured you and Art while I was ambushed by one of their hounds. They must have used some dark sorcery, knocking you out. When I returned, you had vanished into the woods. I found you… and the Hunters. Vale and I slew one of the Five and four of their dogs before the cravens fled, carrying you and Art. I knifed the Hunter carrying you, and you were dropped, but I missed Art’s captor.” Will’s voice broke. “I
missed
him, Ehan. Missed!”

Angry with himself, Will turned back to the fire. Though his voice betrayed his sadness, he could not cry now. He felt only a hate for the four Hunters that remained. The rest of him was emptiness.
I will save Art. I will succeed. Vale, we will not fail him again,
he vowed to his frevmat. He vowed to kill each and every one of the Hunters for Art and for his people.
These are my oaths.

The Noble Quest

In the hours that passed, Ehan fell unconscious again, and Will eventually drifted off to sleep, leaving the Imperial scouts to watch for the Hunters’ return. The boys woke late the next morning. They were cold, but not from the snow that fell around them. Accompanied by the three scouts, Will and Ehan rode faster and harder than Will had ever before, and after three days since leaving the Sashans, they had arrived at the ruins of what had once grown to become Will’s second home.

The Academy, once a proud stronghold, was little more than a smoldering wreck. Turrets had fallen crushing the courtyard, and the outer walls had been crushed. Though much of the castle’s majestic outer buildings had been tarnished by battle, the keep still stood as strong as ever.

Arriving on the grounds, Will dismounted Soulfire. He saw a familiar figure waddling as fast as he could to meet them, a portly man with a large, walrus moustache.   

“Just in time, William, just in time. Your father has given me orders to escort you to him the very moment you arrive. Hurry, if I understand correctly, this directive is of the utmost importance,” Harold said in a whining voice.

“Take us to him,” Will said, pleased to know that he would see his father again for the first time in two years.

As Harold led them into the Foyer, Will and Ehan gasped. Will was shocked because the Foyer was ruined. Blood no longer spattered the floor, but the beautiful tapestries had been torn and ripped off the walls, leaving the stone plain and unadorned.

Ehan was even more surprised at the appearance of the Foyer than Will. The Flatland Rider looked round at the glory of the enormous room in awe; Sashans were not accustomed to permanent buildings, and in the face of such displays of wealth, Ehan was awestruck, even if the building was a mere shadow of its former magnificence.

Matthew approached them from a torch-lit corridor. With a small smile, Will gulped and ran to him. They embraced each other. Ehan snorted at the display.

“It gladdens my heart to see you alive, son,” Matthew Stormhand said jovially. “And look at you, emberling! Strong as an aurochs.” His eyes found Vale and in those orbs of cool blue, a tender look grew. “He’s bigger than Lumina. I pray he is a fit companion for my son. You will tell me the story of your bond soon. But now,” he said, becoming grave, “an assembly of all the great Imperial lords awaits us. They hail from all corners of the Empire to discuss pressing matters concerning the future of the war against the Shadow Liberator. We are to observe. Come with me.”

“Father, my hand. What has happened to me?” Will removed the Gauntlet that hid his new scars.

“You… You killed one.” It was a statement, not a question. Matthew’s face was that of sincerest shock.

“How did you know?”

“That is the mark that grows on those Furialists that have killed one of their own kind. Normally, it is a cursed mark and one that bore it would be despised, but today it is proof that the Hunters can be defeated. You give me hope, succeeding where I have failed all these years.” Will opened his mouth to speak, but Matthew interrupted him, “Come, the Emperor, gifted as he is, was not endowed with much patience.”

They walked in silence. Will looked at his father, seeing a change. Matthew’s gait was uncharacteristically stiff though, as usual, it remained purposeful. Will could only assume his father was nervous and fearful of what was to come and also of that which had passed. But, whatever Matthew Stormhand felt was nothing to the sense of loss that Will felt knowing Art was a captive of the Hunters.

They arrived at a nondescript door guarded by two fully-armored knights, and Matthew stopped. He took a deep breath, seeming to settle his thoughts, and entered the room.

Will and Ehan filed in and stood behind Matthew in the center of the room. “General Stormhand, be seated,” a middle-aged man said with commanding air. Will recognized him. He had seen a portrait of the man hanging in Baruktaråg’s classroom. And now, in person, Will found that the graying hair and stern expression were unmistakable.

“Excuse me, Emperor, I do not intend to cause delay,” Matthew said, kneeling for a short moment before taking a seat between a pair of golden-bearded lords. Will looked around him and saw Modwyn seated along the wall along with twenty other stately highborn men and Baruktaråg, the dwarf, who wore a bandage concealing his lef
t eye. Baruktaråg smiled at Will from the corner of the room.

“My lords, Your Highness,” Ehan said gravely. “I have been dispatched by my father, the Sashan Warlord of the Hillbreaker Band. Ehan Lancerunner of the Flatlanda, at your service.” Ehan bowed his head and placed a fist over his heart.

“Of the Hillbreaker Band? I accept your fealty, Sashan Ehan. Your tribe holds much influence among the bands. Please, take a seat,” the Emperor said tactfully. “And you, Master Stormhand. What is your story? I am told that one named the Brightflame took command of the surviving recruits and escaped. Modwyn tells me that you have adopted this moniker.”

“I have; it was I who led the cadets out of the castle as Boewdard’s men slaughtered all they could find.”

“Yet, not all survived. What happened when Boewdard seized the castle? How did he do it? My men have found bodies of a hundred of cadets or more, yet not all died in the raid. If they did not escape with you and did not escape to the next life, where have they gone? Joined their former Blademaster, I believe. Is this assumption true?” the Emperor pondered.

Will bowed politely and ignoring the questions put to him, began, “My lords, one of my close friends has been taken.”

“Taken? Taken by whom?” the Emperor said with irritation.

“Arthur Tableground, he set out from the Plains traveling with Ehan and me. We were ambushed by the Five Hunters.”

Sharp intakes of breath sounded around the room, and one man cried out, “How could you survive? No boy could fend off the Five and live. It must be farce! General Stormhand, has your pup the stones to lie to the Emperor’s face?”

“Why capture the
Messenger Knight’s boy? Taken alive you say?” mused the Emperor.

“Yes, we survived. I fought the Hunters as my friends lay their unconscious captives. I slew one of them, and Vale clawed the leader in the face.”

“Preposterous!
You
killed one of the Shadow’s Hunters,” the doubter exclaimed.

Turning to the man, Will stared hotly into his droopy basset-hound face, saying defiantly, “Aye, I killed him. You will find his body and those of their hounds one day’s ride from here, but if proof is your desire, behold.” Will removed his gauntlet and extended his hand, bearing the tattoo for all in the room to see. “I managed to rescue Ehan, but was too late to save Art. They carried him away,” Will looked at his feet.

“Those gauntlets boy,” the Emperor said intently, leaning forward. “How did you come by them?”

Will cocked his head.
Could the Emperor recognize them as the Void Gauntlets?
he thought frantically.

Do not tell him
, Vale advised.

“The gauntlets, your Highness? They are… they were-”

Matthew interrupted, “Those gauntlets are a family heirloom, Emperor. Hardly the most pressing matter now.”

“Of course,” agreed the Emperor absent-mindedly. He stroked his pale cheek thoughtfully before returning his attention to the assembly. “The young Stormhand, or should I say the Brightflame, speaks truth. His mark demonstrates his honesty and his loyalty to the Empire. He has slain one of the Five. Though, it is curious,” the Emperor pondered. “The Five do not take captives; that is not how they work. Yet, now they have, and I am left wondering, why?” he stated more to himself than to anybody specifically. Snapping out of his reverie, the Emperor continued, “But to my questions, boy. It is unbecoming to keep an Emperor waiting.”

Will then answered the Emperor’s questions, speaking in a soft voice. He told the entire story, from the Formal through his stay in the Sasha Plain. The Emperor frequently interrupted, mostly to make inquiries about Boewdard. When Will finished, he knelt before the Emperor and rose.

“Before you take your seat, tell the assembly which cadets you saw defect to the Shadow Liberator’s army.”

Will looked at the expectant crowd, hesitating. Vale nudged Will’s hand.

“Your Highness, my lords. I can only identify three, though I know more must have joined the Liberated Army.”

“The names, boy,” the Emperor prompted.

“There was the Shadow Lighter, Hostice of Wittenstaak.”

The crowd nodded understandingly. A few leaned forward in anticipation of the other names.

“The Lycanthrope, Daniel Ogdin.”

The Emperor brushed his hand through his hair dismissively. “The last remnant of a disgraced Bloodline. He will be dealt with. The final name?”

“She orchestrated the entire coup. The Weaver, Vivyan Payne.”

The room burst into uproar. Lords leapt to their feet, drawing their weapons and shouting threats across the room to the one man who had remained seated.

“Seize him!” shouted one of the golden-bearded lords next to Matthew.

“Very interesting,” the Emperor murmured. “Be seated, all of you! Let us hear what Lord Payne has to say for his daughter.”

Lord Payne, a thin man with well-groomed hair, got to his feet slowly. His surcoat bore his Bloodline’s coat of arms, a red cat rearing on a black field. In a clear
baritone, Lord Payne spoke, “If this account is true, then Vivyan has betrayed the Empire. Do not perceive her misguided actions as a reflection of her Bloodline allegiance. The Paynes have been loyal to the Imperial Line from the beginning and will remain as such now. Our words are ‘Protect your own.’ It saddens me that Vivyan has abandoned this creed and chose a path that wounds her entire family, myself more than any other.”

“Do you renounce the traitor Vivyan? Will you pursue her to the fullest extent of your power? Can you execute her as the villain she is?” the Emperor asked, arching his thin eyebrows.

Lord Payne swallowed. “Aye.”

“Very well, take your seat. Let no man here question Lord Payne’s devotion to the Imperial will. The actions of these traitors, Vivyan along with the others, cannot be abided. We must stop the Liberated Army from growing. Yet, as you all know, the Shadow Liberator is still at large, his Hunters roam my Empire freely, and his army grows in strength by the day. There must be a way to stop the chaos. One cannot help but believe that if the Shadow Liberator succeeds in his mission, Imperial power will crumble and the Empire will disintegrate. This would leave our people defenseless against hordes of enemies, many of whom at this moment in time remain faceless.

“No more is he a minor annoyance. This man who calls himself the Shadow Liberator poses a severe threat to the Empire, one capable of infiltrating any keep or so it would appear. I demand that the Shadow be stopped for the sake of the Empire.” The Emperor let his words take effect. “To combat him and his guerilla army, we must test a new strategy, a theory of mine that, if correct, will put an end to the insurrection. I will send out a party of my own ‘hunters’ to stop the Liberator of Shadows. At this point, I would have you, William Brightflame and Sashan Ehan, leave as we discuss which warriors might take part in this most important of quests,” the Emperor said, waving his hand in dismissal.

“I beg you consider the plight of Arthur as you make deliberations,” Will said as they exited the assembly room.

Ehan nodded gravely, but, as was his nature, said nothing. Outside of the council chamber, Vale rubbed against Will’s side comfortingly. Restless, Will turned to an armed knight standing guard at the door.

“Of the staff, who fought for whom? Baruktaråg and Modwyn supported the Empire I have seen, but what of the others?” Will asked. He could not imagine any of his teachers fighting for the Liberator of Shadows.

The knight stroked his goatee with a gauntleted hand, answering, “Wadsworth died, along with at least ten of his griffins, preventing the enemy’s pursuit of the retreating children. His frevmat was found wounded by his side, and she passed shortly after we marched onto the grounds. Revia, the healer, is tending to our men still wounded from the siege. Nailfram, a good friend of mine, died as well. Bless his soul. He was found in the courtyard. I suppose he died fighting so that the cadets could escape.” The guard proceeded to list a few other names that Will did not know.

It sounds as if half the instructors joined the Shadow,
Vale remarked.

I know. What disturbs me is that many here I trusted are dead or had planned to betray us to the Liberated Army the whole time. Vivyan must have known who they all were.
Will clenched his fists, his anger bubbling whenever he thought of Vivyan. He hated her. He hated how she had lied to them. How she had lied to him.

An hour passed before the lords and Emperor emerged from the room. The Emperor turned down the hall and strode away without a word. The guard and most of the men in the assembly followed. Left standing in the hall were Will, Ehan, Matthew, Baruktaråg, Modwyn, and three other men Will did not know.

“Four Imperials, one Flatland Rider, one dwarf, and two Furialists off on a desperate quest to kill the most wanted man in all of Gammalgard. But, there are other motives behind the hunt. Two seek to rescue their lost friend. Two, to bring honor to their races. And four, to keep the others in line and focused. What a grand tale they will tell of us!” Modwyn stated happily. “What beautiful songs they will sing of our victory!”