The Spirit of Revenge (8 page)

Silas took a set of plated armor and eyed it with a trained eye. He clamped on the breastplate, admiring the large pauldron that protected the left side of his neck. He fastened a short, scaled steel fauld around his waist and let it rest about his thighs. He slipped his hands through a pair of vambraces and nodded, impressed with the smith’s skills.

He turned to his brother and helped Joshua into the largest set of armor, clamping piece after piece to his bulky frame until it nearly buried his entire brother beneath a sea of shimmering steel.

The four men stood beside their rucksacks, fully armored and admiring the skills of the man that had given them such a gift. They thanked the smith but he merely grunted and walked out of the room, muttering inaudibly under his breath. Armeth watched his friend leave the room and slam the door behind him.

“Ah, Locke, always the talker…anyway, I’m glad you like the armor, it will come in useful later on I can guarantee. I take my leave of you for now.” He turned and opened the door.

“Wait!” Cain called out to him.

Armeth stopped and eyed him curiously. “What is it?”

“I need to ask you something.” Cain followed him out of the room and into the hallway.

The light of the setting sun faintly skimmed through the window beside them, casting their faces in gold and flicking shadows as they talked.

“What’s on your mind?” Armeth asked softly, waiting for Cain to gather his thoughts.

Moments later, Cain replied. “Something has been plaguing me since I left Andaurel. I have hoped to make sense of it, but I cannot. No one would know the answer to what I ask, but after hearing how much you know, maybe you might.” He paused a moment before continuing.

“At Andaurel I fought and killed the captain of the Arzecs, he who murdered my family….” Cain’s gaze fell for a moment. “Before I killed him, he spoke strange words to me. At the time, I pushed them aside, but now they fester in my mind. He said that Abaddon wants me dead. That they attacked Andaurel in order to lure me to my home and kill me.”

Armeth’s eyes lit up. “Are you certain of this?” Cain nodded. “This cannot be.” He turned and gripped his forehead as if deep in thought. “This would explain many things…”

“What are you talking about?”

Armeth looked at Cain and grabbed his arm firmly. “Look, my friend, I cannot explain it…you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Alas,” Armeth shook his head, “I cannot. I can barely make sense of it myself. However, if it is what I think, then things will soon change. This war will take a turn for the worse and you, Cain, will be in the midst of it all.”

Cain slowly opened his eyes and glanced around their room, eyes heavy with sleep. The others were still sound asleep, unaware of the noise that had awoken him. He threw his sheets aside and stepped out of the bed and stretched stiffly.

He walked towards the table and took a loaf of bread and a goblet from the platter of food on the table. He walked over to the window and gazed out of the paned glass, eating pensively in silence.

The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, the dull azure light of the early morn cast over Dun Ara. The countless homes and buildings were slowly appearing through the darkness, softly lit in the dawn. The city’s market street, normally overflowing with people in the day, was now barren and quiet. The city was still and silent as if frozen by the night.

A metallic click rang out and Cain turned his gaze from the window. Aaron was sitting beside the hearth, prodding the embers of a dying fire. He looked up at Cain as he walked over and sat down beside him.

Cain broke the loaf of bread in two and handed one of the halves to his friend. Aaron bowed his head in appreciation and they sat in silence, gazing into the ashes of the hearth.

“It makes me wonder,” Aaron said after a long moment. Cain looked at him questioningly. “What can four men do to save Tarsha from its fate? What if we deserve this war? What if we deserve everything that has happened over these four hundred years? Who are we to say Tarsha doesn’t deserve it.”

Cain glared at the smoldering ashes. “Tarsha reels in her agony. She burns, she bleeds, she suffocates in the reek of her dead. Who are you to say Tarsha deserves this fate?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying we need to be realistic…”

“I am being realistic. Every second people are dying. Every second the Andreds and Arzecs slaughter another innocent and burn another home. Lives are forever torn and broken. People are left behind in the wake of such destruction. People like me…”

“Eileen? Is that what this is about?” Aaron shook his head. “Are you telling me you accepted the King’s offer out of revenge? Cain, as your friend, I’ve seen you take things too hard, I’ve seen what damage you can do to yourself. If you do not learn how to move on from her death then it will consume you. You have to do what is best for your sanity. That’s what she would want.”

“You don’t know what she would want. Until you lose a wife and child then you will never know what I feel. Abaddon took them from me and I vow with all my soul to avenge their deaths and find justice for my sorrows.”

“Revenge isn’t everything, Cain.”

“Yes…it is. How do you not want justice for the pain we have endured? Our parents were killed, our homes have been burned down twice now, and everyone we have every loved or cared about is dead! How do you not want revenge?”

Aaron returned his fiery gaze with an unremitting cool. “I do want justice…with all of my heart. But I’m not willing to sell my soul for it like you.” Cain turned to the ashes and mulled over his words.

“Sounds like a shitty existence to me,” Joshua said as he rose from his sheets. He sat wearily on the edge of his bed and shook his head at Cain. “You think what little we have left, we have to give up for a suicidal chance at revenge that won’t even matter in the end? I don’t care what happens to us now. We have nothing to live for…we might as well die for something.” He stood up and approached his brother’s bed, waking Silas from his sleep.

“We need to leave, Armeth will be expecting us,” Aaron said, unsure of a proper response to this.

The group ate swiftly and donned their armor. They pulled their cloaks from the backs of their chairs and threw them over their shoulders. They shouldered their packs and adjusted the straps.

“Well,” Cain said curtly as he strapped his bow and quiver to his pack, “are we ready then?” The others nodded and followed him out the door. He led them down the hall and crossed the tavern.

“You’re leaving us?” a voice called out to them from the tables. One of their fellow soldiers sat at a nearby table, his beard soaked with ale and restless eyes red. The men stared at him in silence.

“I know what you’re going to do…we all do,” he muttered slowly. The four said nothing. “We wish you luck…go now and avenge our brothers.”

Cain nodded solemnly at this and rested a hand on the door’s handle. “Revenge…that is all we have left.” He threw the door open and led them out into the empty street.

They made swift progress through the barren city and arrived at the mouth of the main road in minutes. They soon reached the entrance yard and crossed the court and approached a figure beside the gates.

Armeth waved at them as they approached. He clapped them on the backs and greeted each of them with a warm grin. They noticed him glance over to his side and they turned to follow his gaze. A man crossed the courtyard with a swift gait.

“Ethebriel wishes to see all of you off…” Armeth explained as the King stopped before them. The five men bowed humbly at his presence.

“I trust Armeth has fitted you with everything you need for the journey?” their king asked. The others nodded in confirmation. “Very well…” he continued, “I need to speak with you a moment before you leave.” The King held out a large scroll and unraveled the twine that held it. He unfurled it and revealed a large map of Tarsha.

It was incredibly detailed, the intricate physical features and political boundaries distinctly visible across the tarnished velar. Ethebriel handed it to Cain and the others crowded around him to get a view of the map.

The King pointed to Dun Ara on the map. “You’ll travel north after you leave our gates and continue until you cross over into Charun. Once you leave our borders, stay on a northwest bearing until you come across the Crossroads.” He pointed to a large river system that ran through the middle of Charun. He dragged his finger in a small circle around a point on the rivers.

“The Crossroads are a large system of gullies and ravines that wind through and around the rivers. You will easily become disoriented; however, the Crossroads are one of the only places you can safely cross the rivers. Keep your head straight in there and you should be fine. After that, you will travel due west until you reach the capital stronghold of Charun, Abraxas.

I have already sent word to Charun’s king, Verin, that you are the ones leading the unification of our countries. He awaits you in Abraxas, go there and serve him well. If you help in raising his armies, then they may have the chance to open their borders and send aid to the rest of Tarsha. If you do this, then we will be one step closer to uniting our broken countries and reforming the Old Alliance.”

“What of our country?” Cain asked their king. “You send us to Charun to save them? Are we to do nothing but watch our own country fall to ruin under the Arzecs?” The group fell silent as the men stared at the King, awaiting his reply.

“Abaddon may have dispensed many of his forces into the south, but his elite soldiers, the Andreds, rape and slaughter the rest of Tarsha. They need you far more than we do. Kaanos and Charun have not bore the brunt of this war as Erias, Atuan, and Inveira have. They can fend for themselves for the time being, but Charun is wilting under the Arzec invasion. We need them alive, for they are an important piece in the reconstruction of the Alliance.

After you aid them, then we can focus our attention to the North where the true war lies. As for Kaanos, sacrifices must be made, my friend. You will come to understand that soon enough…may the blessings of Tarsha be upon you.”

With that, he turned and waved them off with a smile, walking up the main road and disappearing behind the buildings.

The group turned their attention back to Armeth who walked forward and threw up his hands dramatically. “Ah! Your horses!” They glanced over their shoulders and saw several young farriers leading their horses down the road.

Their horses were brushed and trimmed, their manes neatly cut. Large, comfortable saddles were strapped onto their backs by a network of straps and buckles. The stable hands bowed to the horses’ owners and handed them the reins.

“Well, best get to it my friends; I can delay you no more,” Armeth finished with a smile.

The group strapped their rucksacks to their horses and shook hands with the mercenary. They saddled their horses and reined them towards the gate.

Armeth removed the planking that braced the doors and leaned into them. The doors slowly swung out and he stopped once they were fully open. He turned and looked each of them over.

“You will face many foes and fight many fights my friends. Follow the Warrior’s Code that I have given you, for it will guide you well. But remember, you must guide yourselves before you can lead others. Lead your souls down the right path, your feet will follow.” He gestured towards the open gate and they reined their mounts through the doors. “Farewell, Warriors.”

They rode past him and bid farewell, waving as they began their journey.

With a proud solute, he turned from view and the gates of Dun Ara shut behind him.

The four of Andaurel spurred their horses down the steep hill and maneuvered them carefully through the rough terrain. They reached the foot of the hill and followed the road into the rising sun.

They looked over their shoulders at the city one last time as it slowly faded into the distance. The sun cast its bullion rays over the capital, now nothing more than a golden gleam at their backs.

They soon reached a fork in the road, one traveling east, the other branching off to the north. They reined their horses to a stop and faced the eastern road. Their home was only miles away, or rather, what remained of it.

A shared sense of loneliness suddenly fell over them. With the fading shadow of Dun Ara at their backs and the ashes of Andaurel before them, sorrow fell like a weight upon their conscience.

The gravity of their situation finally set in. They had no families, no friends, no home. They had only themselves, and a shared sense of vengeance. They were but soldiers, like millions before them, yet all of Tarsha had placed their hopes on these four men of Andaurel. They knew not what lay ahead or how difficult their mission would be. However, they were now indentured to the Alliance cause, and they could not disappoint.

They turned from the east road, knowing they would never return to their homes. Cain continued gazing out toward Andaurel. The endless plains swayed before him, shimmering in the mounting sunlight. “Goodbye, Eileen…” He muttered. He tore his gaze from the plains and followed his friends down the northern road.