The Spirit of Revenge (17 page)

The outcome of this war will be decided by the choices made here tonight. You know what is right, Cain.” Silence enveloped them. A shrill wind blew. Cain’s friends looked at him with quiet earnest.

“Listen to him,” Aaron urged.

Cain turned and faced the King. “We will go to Morven. But know this…I do so for justice and justice only. I will not rest until my sorrows are repaid with blood…only then may my losses be atoned.” The wind died as quickly as it had come.

Verin shook his head. “A fool never learns.” He sighed before drawing out a large map from the depths of his tunic.

The Warriors gathered around him as he unfurled the velum scroll. Cain sighed and gazed around the fortress for a moment before stepping into the group.

Verin laid the map across the top of the wall they stood beside and pinned its edges to the stone. They noticed the map was the same that Ethebriel had displayed on the wall of his study.

It was extremely ancient, weathered from countless years of use. Faded lines of ink separated the countries, each one labeled in elegant writing. The country of Erias filled the middle of Tarsha and stretched across half the parchment. The country was covered with sketched mountains and rivers of ink that flowed through endless forests.

“Morven is here,” Verin said as he pointed to a large blot in the middle of Erias. The city sat on the end of a mountain range that spanned from the western border of Andred to the heart of Erias. A large river snaked through the mountain range and through Morven, continuing until it reached the western Sea of Caius.

Verin moved his hand and pointed to a speck labeled Abraxas on the western edge of Charun. “I would propose your route by sea but we cannot spare any transports, and your small group by land will go more easily unnoticed to the enemy. Therefore, your only option is by land.

It is extremely difficult to enter Erias from Charun. If you follow my instructions however, you should be fine.” He slowly dragged his finger across the country until he reached its northern border.

A large band of trees stretched across the majority of Charun’s northern border. “Cross Charun on a northeast bearing until you reach our northern border…the forest of Morgaul,” Verin muttered as he rested a finger on the thick line of trees.

“It is a dark and unmapped region. The few who dare enter its forests say that many strange things happen among its shadows. Be prepared for the worst. It will be extremely difficult to navigate its terrain, but if you can conquer it and come out its other end, then you should be…somewhat safe for the remainder of your journey.”

Verin slid his finger across the forest and stopped as he reached a small area directly above the left half of the forest. “These are the Gullies of Amon Karash. It is a vast and lifeless land, scarred with endless chasms. It is also the breeding ground of Arzecs, who thrive in this lifeless region. Under any circumstances are you to enter the Amon Karash; you will not come out alive.

Also bordering the Morgaul is a region known as Heiven Sul. It is a parched and arid band of active volcanoes. Rivers of fire weave across this wasteland. Very few creatures can live in this unforgiving climate, and those who do are beyond rational comprehension. A massive breed of beast lives in Heiven Sul, known as the Gehet to most. They are extremely dangerous creatures. It is best to stay away from the Heiven Sul as well.

Thus, the only remaining way to cross both regions into Erias is a very thin strand of life-sustaining land that splits the two regions, the Knife Ridge. You must be very careful to navigate through the Morgaul if you are to reach it. If you do not enter out into the Knife Ridge then you will find yourself in either of these regions, and in immediate peril. However, if you manage to enter into the Ridge, then it is almost a perfect shot to Morven.

You must hold your friends close and your blades closer. The armies of Andred run rampant and nigh unhindered across Erias, they will not relent in the ruination of man.

It will be an extremely long and difficult task, but that is why Ethebriel chose you four, because only you have what it takes to endure. Ethebriel could not have chosen better men. I know you will succeed in aiding the North against the shadow of Andred.” Verin carefully rolled up the map and drew a small clamp around it. “The fate of us all now rests on your shoulders, Warriors.”

Joshua sighed heavily as Verin handed the map to Cain. “No pressure then…”

The Warriors entered the Great Hall as the first rays of dawn lit the skies. Empty mugs and scattered cards littered the table. Broken glass laid bathing in pools of ale and vomit. Men covered the tables and floor, splayed out in various painful positions. Only one person remained sobered and awake, sitting on the tabletop among the refuse of food and discarded mugs.

Adriel looked up as they entered the hall, the creaking of the iron doors echoing loudly in the silence.

“I’m going to find a bed,” said Aaron after scanning the scene before them. He turned and disappeared across the court, his silhouette a mere outline against the sea of azure dawn.

Joshua walked forward and threw his bulky frame to the ground and rested his back against the legs of the table. “We’re going to the barracks,” Silas informed him, “you could just sleep there?”

“Try something different for a change, mate,” he replied as he grabbed a half-filled mug from the hand of a sleeping soldier that lay sprawled out on the tabletop above. “Besides,” he took a swig, “everyone else is doing it.” He rested his head on the table legs with a belch and closed his eyes.

Silas shrugged and lay down on the floor beside his brother. Joshua handed him the mug and Silas drew it to his lips.

Cain shook his head at them before approaching Adriel who sat on a table, head held in her hands.

“May I sit?” He asked. She looked up at him and nodded lightly. He threw himself up beside her.

“What did Verin want?” she asked as she brushed the hair from her eyes.

“He received a letter from Ethebriel,” Cain replied, “It appears that we’ve only been fighting a diversion.”

“A diversion?” Adriel asked with lifted brows.

“Aye, Abaddon sent the Arzec hosts into Kaanos and Charun to distract us and cut us off while his armies launched a full-scale invasion behind our backs. His troops march across the North, killing the innocent. The king of Erias fears they march for Morven.”

Adriel’s eyes lit up at this. “Morven! Abaddon has never been bold enough to attack such a mighty city. If we lose it…then everything is lost.”

Cain nodded and replied, “Yes, I know. That’s why Verin wants us to go to Morven and assist in the war effort.”

Adriel fell silent. “You mean…you’re leaving?” She asked quietly, her eyes fixated on the wall before her.

Cain nodded. “The Alliance needs us there…and we have gone too far to turn back now.” Adriel made no remark. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“What about me?” She asked.

“I’m not sure. None of them…want you with us.”

“What about you?” She raised a brow at him. “What do you want?”

Cain ran a hand through his hair at this. “You’ve saved our lives once, and mine again in the battle. We could use you.”

“And that’s your only reason?”

This time it was Cain’s turn to raise a brow. “What reasons would you even have in going with us?”

Adriel’s gaze fell and she shook her head. “I have my reasons, but if none of you want me to come then forget it.” She stood up and left the Great Hall. Cain watched her leave, confused at her response.

“Well played, my friend,” Joshua said from somewhere under the table.

The Warriors tore through the mound of equipment piled high in the armory and pulled their packs from its dark recesses.

They returned to the barracks and packed their rucksacks quickly and in pensive silence, each of them burdened with the weight of their thoughts. They had no idea when they would ever see their country again, or for that matter their homes, or what was left of them.

Each of them longed to have a family once again, to go back to the untroubled days of their youth. They had nothing now in life but war, loss, and certain death to come. They longed for peace; but all that remained to them was a false sense of justice, the vengeance they sought to obtain.

They threw their heads back, weary with little sleep. They were in the only room of their barrack, circled around a table that was heavy laden with their swollen packs. They lay their heads back against the walls of stone. Rays of the midday sun peered in through the arrow thin windows.

Cain sharpened his sword as the others rested in silence, the small stone in his hand moving along the blade with methodic precision. He had sharpened its edge so often that it had become habitual, a daily routine to appease his shaking hands since the day they left Andaurel.

Utter silence enveloped the barracks as the slow and systematic rasp of grinding steel echoed in the room.

Cain stayed his hand and raised it before him. His scarred hands shook slightly despite his opposition.

“Has anyone seen Adriel?” He asked, breaking the heavy silence. His friends shook their heads apathetically.

“Oh…” He muttered and leaned back in his chair, shortly forgetting his compulsive habit. “I think she should come with us.”

Joshua looked up at him from one of the beds. “Why would we need her? She’d only get in the way.”

“I’d have to agree with him on that one, Cain,” Silas offered.

“She saved our lives once already and mine again in battle,” Cain argued as he sheathed his sword. “We need all the help we can get. Besides, we need a guide.”

Aaron shook his head. “Look, you know it, we all know it, she’s not going to come with us. Why would she? Besides, you barely even know her. The only thing any of us really know about her is she’s thickly stubborn, and that’s all I need to know.”

Cain nodded distantly and replied, “We need her a lot more than you think we do. She’ll come.”

Aaron shook his head as his friend began sharpening his sword once more. “Just as stubborn as you,” he sighed under the rasp of steel.

The following morning brought with it a heavy fog that fell thick over Abraxas. The sun had yet to reach the sky, but the Warriors were already in the stables, weary with little sleep once again.

They jadedly tied their bags to their saddles and mounted their horses. They guided them out of the stables and entered out into a sea of fog. They blindly rode through the mist and worked their way across the fortress until they reached the front gates.

Verin stood beside the open doors and gestured them forward. “Winter has reached us at last,” the King muttered, “A heavy fog sets upon the hills.”

“Just our luck,” Joshua murmured.

Verin reached down and picked up a large bundle of cloth. “You will need these,” he tossed each of them a cloak of black wool, extremely warm to the touch. “They will protect you from our bitter winter.”

“Thank you for your generosity,” Cain replied as he set the cloak on the saddle behind him.

“Go now, Morven needs you,” Verin extended his open palm toward the gateway, “Tarsha needs you. Bring unity to our world in this dark hour.” The Warriors nodded and followed him out of the fortress. “May grace be with you.”