The Trinity of Heroes (I Will Protect You Book 1) (28 page)

I am frightened this morning. As I look out to the North I cannot help but wonder how it was possible for one man to amass such an army. The green hills are black with the rotting corpses of the undead, reanimated at their master’s order. The stench of these foul beasts is enough to make a man gag. I fear Haile’s days to be numbered. But, by Sora’s grace, we won’t go down without a fight.

- Journal of Jeremayah Damascus, North Tower Watchman, Year of The Great War, moments before the first charge

Alexander Damascus was a third generation tower watchman. His grandfather had held the position for forty years, during peacetime. He watched from the North Tower of Knights Runn, protecting the lands. His father, Jeremayah, had followed suit and had done the same, only to lose his life during the Great War with Ghast.

The North Tower overlooked the hilly, forest-dotted landscape that spread out from the edge of Haile. The tower had a giant iron bell in its center, and Alexander would sound it loudly when the Knight Guard was needed. The tower rose high in the air, giving Alexander a clear view of the rising morning sun to the east.

Alexander yawned and wiped his blue eyes as he leaned back in his chair. The brisk morning wind whipped at his smooth pale face. He loved sunrise, it was the most serene part of the day to him. He sometimes wished he had asked to be the watchman at the East or West tower, because truth be told, nothing much happened in the barren lands to the north. The Frozen Mountains acted as a veritable blockade to invaders. Sure, Alexander had sounded the bell for packs of wild beasts terrorizing hunting parties, and clans of vicious marauders pillaging and ransacking trading caravans, but never for anything that he would be able to tell great stories to his children about.

Alexander stood up and stared at the red and orange hues that streaked across the sky. He looked east to the rising sun, watching it emerge over the clear horizon, waking from its slumber.
So few people are awake early enough to experience these gorgeous mornings
. He walked about the square area that represented his workplace and breathed deeply. He turned to the north and stared toward the Frozen Mountains, losing himself in their peaks as they ascended into the wispy clouds. He closed his eyes and grasped the ledge of the tower’s alcove to support his weight. He stood that way for a minute, falling into a daydream of other adventures. His thoughts of his imaginary victories as a famous Knight obscured his senses. He barely felt the faint rumbling below the ground, even though it shook the tower slightly. He knew land tremors weren’t terribly uncommon, so he didn’t pay any attention to it at first. Usually these were just short disturbances caused by massive burrowing wurms, or avalanches in the Frozen Mountains. But instead of the sound fading, it hung in the air, like a far away drum roll.

Alexander opened his eyes, and squinted at the mountains, trying to locate the source of the tremor. He grabbed his spyglass and checked the mountains’ ridges, looking for falling snow. There was nothing unusual. He checked some of the hills and valleys and forests for signs of the giant wurms, but the lands sat quiet. He lowered the spyglass and wondered where the sound was coming from. The tower shook again, more vigorously now. He braced himself and then reopened the spyglass, more concerned now for his own safety. Then he spotted it: a towering, growing,
moving
, black wave racing from the base of the mountains.
What in Sora’s name?
Alexander thought as he looked toward the formation with the spyglass.

He recoiled in horror at what he saw.

White, ghastly heads poked out from the mammoth tsunami. Blackness followed with it, slowly turning the beautiful, sun-soaked morning to darkness. The wave gradually grew taller, finally reaching higher than he could look, almost as if the heavens themselves pulled it upward. It stretched across the northern horizon, forming a wall that was hurtling itself, and its darkness, toward Haile in an attempt to engulf it. The sun could not even pierce through it, its rays immediately suffocated by the black tsunami.

Alexander was dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do. He had never seen anything this massive, this strange, this
fast
. Though this
thing
had started at the base of the mountains, usually a ten-hour journey by horseback, at the speeds it was moving, Alexander guessed it could descend on Haile in as little as thirty minutes. He snapped out of his indecision and rang the bell, hard. It sounded its low, beckoning warning. He rang it again and again, diligently doing his duty to wake every Knight, and every person, in Haile.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

The other tower watchmen did the same now, realizing that the uneasiness that gnawed at them in their gut was warranted. They could see Alexander’s fervent, frantic motions, and they were seasoned enough to understand that the dark skies were not a possible northern storm as they had guessed initially, but rather something else entirely.

***

Razzius had given the command to march on Haile but a few moments ago, and already the Sangre wave had reached a size and speed of mythic proportions. He and Phillip rode on top of it, standing at its summit as they trampled over trees and rocks, leaving devastation in their wake. The Sangres formed a mucky throne for their generals to perch on as they neared their destination. The force of the winds pushed against their faces, their howling roar too loud for them to speak to each other. They didn’t have to. The hatred in their eyes as they smiled at each other and the common goal they shared were the only communications they needed.

Razzius heard the warning bells’ faint bellowing through the stiff breeze, and he knew the city would attempt to mount a defense. But how could they? Against an army this size? They may kill some Sangres, but the wave would swallow the city. Haile would bow to him.

Chapter 34:

Last night was unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life. I love him. I love Lawrence Sanctus. I’m so happy to have him in my life. I fear that the days to come will test his courage and his training, but I know that Lawrence will always come home to me.

- Journal of Elsie Pyre, 22 P.W., Undated

Galvan spent much of the early spring morning doing what he normally did, fishing in the rivers between Alacrecia and Haile. But something felt off today. It wasn’t just that the fish weren’t biting, or that the early morning sky seemed particularly dark, even though it was clear. Rather, it was like a thought that he just couldn’t quite remember. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his own energy seemed to be drained, to be sucked from within him. Casting his line felt like it took all of his stamina, and walking from spot to spot was exhausting. He noticed the pristine river waters ripple before he felt the earth shake. Then he heard the warning bells.
Could Haile be under attack? That’s impossible; it is a time of peace, after all,
he thought.
Maybe it’s just the Knights training
. But his thoughts quickly turned to Catherine. She had gone to Haile, to the market, earlier that morning, and if this was a serious threat, Galvan needed to make sure she was safe. He knew he had to go to the city.

***

Haile was awake. Benni and Lawrence flew out of bed at the warning sounds. Lawrence’s body begged for sleep; he was exhausted from the night before. But he had to do his duty. As he and Benni rushed toward Knights Runn, they noticed the townspeople coming out of their homes with weapons ready. The people of Haile would not surrender without defending their homeland. The scene was eerily reminiscent to them of the one just days earlier when they had rung the very same bell in the dead of night to warn of Wurn’s death and Razzius’ escape. The sounds of the bell towers invoked a sense of dread in Benni and Lawrence.

Alexander motioned for his commanding officer and Captain Bryce Maxwell to join him in the watch tower. He showed them the colossal, moving formation, and pointed out what looked like two men
seated atop
the wave. He urged them to get the Knight Guard to a defensive position as soon as possible. Bryce agreed immediately and hurried off to general the Knights. The archers had already gathered on the castle’s north wall, preparing to launch many volleys of arrows into the beastly form.

***

Razzius commanded the Sangres to stop their advance just outside of the archers’ range. He wasn’t going to risk being hit by a stray arrow. He was going to let his army do the dirty work. He and Phillip were lifted down to the ground by an outcropping of the ooze. Razzius pointed toward Knights Runn’s north wall. The Sangre tsunami rose up again, barreling toward its destination. Hundreds of archers’ arrows rained down into it. The huge wave simply swallowed the ones that it didn’t first swat out of the air. The thousands of Sangre heads wailed a ghastly, unholy battle cry as they rammed into the north wall, shaking its very foundation. The screams echoed throughout the streets of Haile, piercing the eardrums of those unlucky enough to be there.

The wave flooded over the wall, smashing through the brick and over the ledges. The Hailian archers were thrown off the castle’s walls and they fell mercilessly to the ground below. The North Tower shattered from the impact, and Alexander lost his balance and tumbled into the black wave below. It engulfed him, swallowed him, crumpled him like an old piece of parchment. The force of the entire Sangre contingent continued pushing into the north wall, puncturing it easily in numerous spots where it was weak from years of wear. Soon huge, gaping holes formed in the wall where the stone had been blown away. The floodgates had opened. The wall could not hold any longer. The giant stones tumbled out of the wall, into the castle courtyard, without a care to the destruction they caused along the way. The black muck burst its way through, flooding onto the castle grounds and spreading out over the city like a disease.

Haile was exposed. The mighty wall that encircled Knights Runn had been destroyed easily, in a matter of seconds. The Hailian archers, skilled and trained at the highest level, proved of little use in deterring the unknown enemy that had besieged the capital. Some members of the Knight Guard, Haile’s finest soldiers, had been crushed by the weight of the massive stones of the wall as they fell. Others had been swallowed by the furious rush of the ooze as it poured into the courtyard.

Benni, Lawrence, and the other remaining members of the Knight Guard stood steadfast and resolute amidst the shin-deep black ooze that had overtaken the castle. They had trained day in and day out to defend Haile against anything and everything that may try to destroy it. But not for this. They watched in stunned horror as Phillip and Razzius sauntered through the gaping opening in the north wall that the black wave had carved. The ooze parted around Razzius and Phillip as they moved, like a servant yielding to its masters’ unspoken will.

Lawrence didn’t recognize Razzius at first sight. The innocent, young boy he had known as a friend but a few days ago had given way to a grisly, aged, menacing figure. Razzius’ face was wrinkled and tense, his soft gray eyes now nothing but an ominous black. He no longer walked with his head down, but now he swaggered with an eerie, arrogant confidence. His eyes pierced through the Knights, knowing full well that they were no match for the hell he had brought with him.

Phillip was a weak little brat. Benni knew it. Everyone in Haile knew it. He never could win a fight by himself, and he usually needed others to gang up with him in order to gather the courage to bully his victims. Nothing angered Benni more than seeing Phillip now, in his state of exaggerated self-confidence, because of the allegiances he had formed with Razzius and his demon army.

“Phillip, you pompous bastard, I thought I banned you from this city forever!” Mayor Flint roared as he entered the courtyard from the castle doors.

“Mayor Flint,” Phillip squealed with a fake smile on his face, “how nice to see you again.”

“Razzius?” Mayor Flint questioned incredulously, unsure if the horrific figure that stood next to Phillip was indeed the ex-Knight. “Is that you? You are wanted for murder, and under arrest.”

Numerous Knights closed in on Razzius’ position. They sloshed through the muck, which clung to their boots as they stomped forward.

Razzius laughed. “Actually, I think the word you want to use is ‘massacre,’ sire,” he sneered sarcastically.

The muck bubbled at the sound of his declaration and the Sangres sprang out of it, howling with a hungry ferocity. They quickly encircled the surprised contingent of Knights, the muck acting like ice to the Sangres who glided smoothly over its black surface. One raised its murky arm and smashed it into one of the Knights who blocked its attack with his shield. The force almost knocked him off balance. The red Hailian Crest on his shield became covered in a thick, black residue from the monster’s forceful punch. The ooze slowly dripped down the shield and splotched to the ground. The Knight countered and drew his sword and slashed through the Sangre, cutting through it like butter. The other Knights followed suit, slicing the Sangre force down with calculated, precise strikes. The Knights cleaned their swords and continued stomping toward Razzius, who stood silent, his face still plastered with an arrogant smile.

“Razzius Grimm--” The Knight’s words were cut short by the ferocious wailing of the Sangres, who had reformed behind them.