The Spirit of Revenge (13 page)

“They called you Lady Ivanne,” Cain said as they crossed under the gateway. “They know you?” Adriel hid her eyes behind his back. Cain led the group into the first floor of the fortress.

Several yards ahead of them was a large stone wall that blocked off the upper floor from the first. They stood now in the middle of a long road that stretched to the left and right of them.

Hundreds of soldiers ran mindlessly through the first floor, barking orders and passing armfuls of supplies through their ranks.

The Warriors flicked their reins and guided their horses to the right. They followed the road and picked their way through the mass of soldiers.

The road came to a rather thin tower that jutted out from the causeway and loomed over the first floor.

They continued down the road until they came to a wide staircase on their left. They ushered their horses up the steep flight of steps and came out onto the second floor of the fortress.

The Warriors urged their horses into the droves of soldiers. Men darted madly about, passing weapons, armor and barrels of arrows every which way. Every man wore the armor of Charun, simple steel and iron embellished with leather, yet hardy as the men who bore them.

The smell of burnt metal reached their noses and they turned to see a large forge barely visible through the sea of heads. Smoke billowed from the building’s many arches, rising like a cloud in the morning sky.

Several smock adorned men labored around the furnace, pulling rods of red-hot steel from its depths before plunging them in troughs of saltwater. Their sooty faces grimaced with each blow of their mallets, molding sheets of iron into armor and tossing them into piles at a blinding rate.

Through the thick smoke of the forges, the Warriors could barely make out several barracks that lined the road. Men burst from these buildings, frantically throwing on their armor and joining the confusion.

The streets between the barracks bristled with soldiers, men dashing about sporadically like a host of schizophrenics. The Warriors continued through the fortress and fought through the sea of men.

After several laborious minutes, they left the barracks and came out into an open courtyard. Directly across from them was a great bowl carved into the heart of the fortress. Several steps led down into its basin, where a stone building awaited.

As the Warriors crossed the open area, they noticed an armory on their left that lay hidden in the shadow of several buildings.

Hundreds of soldiers crowded around the armory, shouting into the open doors. Several men passed armor and weapons to the soldiers closest to them, nearly crushed under the tide of men.

Soldiers fought their way to the front of the group, a near brawl ensuing as they battled for the few remaining supplies.

The Warriors continued unnoticed by all as they reined their horses carefully down the flight of stairs.

A tall stone building stood in the middle of the basin. Seven rows of columns stood at its front, bracing a large and decorative terrace above. Numerous standards of Charun flapped in the breeze, their bullion colors shimmering with every wave.

A statue of a soldier, twice the size of a man, stood in front of the columned building. It was fashioned entirely of iron and held a huge standard in its right hand. A sword stabbed into the iron dais upon which it knelt. The soldier’s face contorted with shame and sorrow, his brow furled with despair. Its left hand cradled its face as it wept, iron tears streaming through its fingers.

The Warriors rode past the statue and gazed up at it curiously, fighting off the sadness it seemed to divulge. They rode through the rows of columns and approached a large door that lay in the darkness of the terrace above. Ten soldiers guarded the entrance to the building. The travelers quickly dismounted their horses and led them towards the guards.

The soldiers wore weighty hauberks of chain mail. Long swords were fastened to their belts. They bore short spears and stood with a portentous air, unperturbed as the riders approached.

Without a word, two of the guards opened the building’s heavy brass doors.

Half of the guards stepped forward, took their reins from them, and led the tired horses to a nearby stable. The remaining guards gestured for the Warriors to enter the building.

The Warriors walked through the doors and entered the building. The guards closed the doors behind them.

The Great Hall had but one extremely long room. Elegantly carved columns lined its walls, crafted solely with pretentiousness in mind. They were flecked with silver, gilded with gold, and seeming held together by supple cords of velvet. Numerous stain glass windows lined the room’s walls and between each was mounted a lushly woven tapestry.

A single wooden table stood in the middle, stretching along the entire length of the room. Long benches of the same reddish wood were pushed under it as if in a hurry.

Numerous tin plates and goblets littered the table’s surface. Traces of breakfast still encrusted the plates and the dregs of wine lay stagnant in the bottoms of many goblets.

Two men stood beside the table on the far end of the room, pouring over a large piece of parchment that sprawled across the tabletop. The Warriors approached the men who remained deep in conversation, dragging their fingers across the parchment.

One of the men glanced up from the map and noticed the Warriors. He whispered something inaudible to the other and threw a hood over his face. He then left the man’s side and walked toward the Warriors.

He stared curiously at them through the shadows of his hood, his black fur cloak brushing past. He crossed the room and threw the doors open, soon disappearing from sight. The man who remained rolled up the parchment and approached.

A heavy crown of platinum sat atop a nest of crimped, sable hair. Its many jewels glistened at the Warriors as they approached. A rather prominent nose stuck out from his smooth shaven face. He wore elegant clothes of black silk and linen that gave off a vibrant sheen. He bore a heavily ornate sword at his side, its gold handle and hilt encrusted with the finest jewels.

“Welcome to Abraxas, travelers,” he greeted them with a hoarse, slightly nasally voice. “Ethebriel could not have sent you at a more perfect time.” He opened his mouth to say something else but closed it for a moment before speaking again.

“Ah yes, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Lord Verin, King of Charun.” He held out his ringed hand for them to shake.

He shook Aaron’s hand and bowed lightly. “Aaron Hayden, the keenest of minds.”

He stepped sideways and shook the brothers’ hands. “Silas and Joshua Valfalas, the bravest defenders of Andrus. Relentless pursuers of the enemy. It is an honor.”

He came to Cain and extended a hand. Cain lowered his gaze as the man shook his hand. “And Cain Taran…I have heard many things about you.” He continued with a strange air as if having solicited this speech in his head prior. “You are destined for greatness. Do not sway from the path you follow.” Cain returned this casual praise with a questioning gaze.

Verin extended a hand to Adriel and stood for a moment in disbelief. “Adriel? Ethebriel told me nothing of you in his letter…”

The girl shrugged and replied, “It was a last minute decision. They needed a guide through Charun.”

Verin shook his head with incredulity. “I see the reasoning behind it…but there will be blood spilt by tonight I can assure you. You should not be exposed to the ugly face of war. You have been through enough as it is.”

“You honestly think it’s up to you to make that decision for me?” Adriel replied defensively. “You always thought you could. Ethebriel did everything for me, and yet you were the one to say you played his part. You’re such a-”

Cain threw a hand over her mouth, cutting her short. “What can we do to help, my lord?” He asked, desperate to ease the tension.

“Ethebriel informed me of your many talents, Cain Taran. He failed to mention you knew when to stay tongues.” He glared at Adriel a moment before continuing.

“I will put each of you in command of a regiment, each at different positions of the stronghold. You will lead an archer battalion atop the gate section. That is where we need our forces focused most if we are to fend off the enemy’s assault.

‘Joshua and Silas, you two will lead individual battalions on the first floor near the entrance to slow the enemy if they manage to breach our gates.

‘Aaron Hayden, you will lead a battalion on the north stairway leading to the second floor. If the enemy manages to push past your regiments, then there will be little we can do to stave off their advance. Hopefully they will not be able to push through that far, Abraxas’ defenses are nigh impenetrable.

‘You must go now; there is much to do before the Arzecs arrive. Matthew will take you from here.”

A soldier walked towards them from the end of the room and bowed before the King. “Lead them to the regiments I showed you earlier…and make sure everyone has an assignment, we need to be prepared long before the enemy steps foot inside this crater.”

With that, Verin picked up his parchment and stepped forward to leave the room.

He passed Adriel and paused for a moment. He slowly lifted his hand and raised it as if to strike her. Adriel lowered her head.

“You, my girl,” he began, “would do well to stifle your impudence…” He turned his palm to face the ground and flicked it. Adriel closed her eyes and slowly leaned forward, her soft lips kissing the rings on his hand.

The King smirked in satisfaction. “Do not forget your place.” He turned and left the room.

Adriel wiped a tear from her face and glared after him as he walked away, a quiet jeer on her face. The man named Matthew gestured for them to follow.

“Verin said crater?” Aaron asked the soldier, the first to recover from the strange scene.

The soldier led the group out of the hall and across the columned court, leading them towards the stairway. “What exactly is all this?”

Matthew glanced over at the group and replied, “This crater is actually an extinct volcano that has remained dormant for several hundred years. Its past eruptions have morphed the landscape and destroyed our soil, causing the earth to become infertile and unfit for tilling. Despite its drawbacks, this area of Charun was perfect for a military position, because we could literally see for miles from here,” he pointed to an enormous tower behind the Great Hall.

“Abraxas was actually built during the early years of the war as a last line of defense, used mostly for supply purposes. However as the war dragged on, the fortress became a prime target for the Andreds. It expanded over time and eventually it became our primary stronghold. We have actually fought several…”

Cain let the group continue their walk across the court and up the stairs. He stepped beside Adriel who had lagged behind, eyes locked solely on the stone at her feet. Soldiers dashed about her, nearly trampling her as she indifferently split the crowds.

“What’s wrong?” Cain asked her.

She inhaled deeply and raised her head. “Nothing.” She quickened her pace and hurried after the others.

“What was that in there?”

“Nothing, Cain. Stop prodding your nose into everything you deem fit.”

Cain shook off her comment and looked over his shoulder to the Great Hall. “Something’s off with that man…”

Adriel snorted and attempted a laugh through teary eyes. “You’re telling me.”

As the sun climbed gradually through the sky and the day dragged on, the defenders of Abraxas continued their preparations for battle. The Warriors were scattered across the fortress, preparing their regiments.

“So what happened this morning?” Adriel inquired of a soldier as she heaved a barrel of arrows onto her narrow shoulder. “We came to warn Abraxas of the enemy, but you already knew?”

“A scout arrived during breakfast,” the man replied, “he saw the Arzec hordes marching west across the hills; it’s only a matter of time now before they descend upon us. We had contemplated such a move, but they have not attacked Abraxas in years. Since the scout’s arrival, we have been working without end. Only until the Arzecs arrive will we be able to stop, but when that time comes, we’d wish we never had…”

Adriel laughed nervously at his remark. “Where are the nearest reinforcements? Were we not prepared for this?”

“Alas we were not,” the soldier answered, “Abaddon has focused his attention on the North for centuries; Kaanos and Charun have felt only the taste of war on their tongues. Only now does he let the hammer fall on us. The attacks come from all around, our villages fall like flies to the enemy. We have been focused on aiding our villages and we have sent out many of the garrison that was once here. We are only half our number…”

“How many Arzecs were sighted?” Adriel asked as the soldiers began carting their supplies away from the armory.

“Our scout said he could not search for a number; there is no end to the black tides. They will be here by tonight…our time left on this earth dwindles with each passing hour.” The soldier fell silent and Adriel stared at him with sudden realization.

Now that she saw the dying light in these men’s eyes, now that she saw hope die before her, she saw the truth in these men.