The Bitter War of Always: Immortality Shattered: Book 2 Read online

  “North of here is a place mortal men have long forgotten,” the elf began as he resumed his seat. “It was once called Dreamhaven, the barrows of the elven kings. Our people have not buried a king in two hundred years. Not since our struggles with the goblins, where Cerelin was killed from atop his mount. It will take another day’s ride to reach them, but the enemy will be confused with the redirection and fall off the trail. By splitting up, we can regain the advantage. Otherwise, they will have us not long after nightfall.”

  Aron looked to each of those assembled. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but recall how Elsyn reacted when she accepted her father’s death. She turned stony, more terrible than he had ever seen in a woman of her tender age. She had spoken little thus far, breaking the silence only long enough to make a small statement.

  “My father is dead,” she told him.

  Hatred and sorrow mixed together. Hatred for those responsible and sorrow for the loss of her only family she held dear. She was intent now, intent on returning Galdea to the great kingdom it once was. Intent on driving the hordes of darklings back into their foul land of Suroc Tol and sealing the way forever. She was becoming a force to be feared.

  He also knew that with such drive came the slim chance of budding insanity. Would it be too much for her to handle as she compartmentalized her grief? He didn’t know. Karin had gone to her when they stopped in the middle of that first night. What they said remained private and would stay that way until the princess decided otherwise. Both understood what it meant to lose a father.

  “They shouldn’t bother with the main body as much as they will with us. I imagine they have eyes on us as we speak,” Andolus surmised.

  “Can we make it?” Karin asked.

  The elf shrugged. “We stand a very good chance of it. Since we can’t hide our tracks, the enemy will be in no hurry to run us down, even with the Staff of Life in our possession. The Black knows we won’t risk stopping in any village.”

  “He should also be wondering about Dlorn and his army. They would have already acted if they were still in Galdarath,” Amean reasoned. “If he catches us in the open …”

  “The barrows will give us protection. Dreamhaven lets no evil pass within,” Andolus said. “The only problem is reaching them. Long Shadow and I know a few tricks. We should be able to shake the darklings just enough. Other than that, I offer no reassurances.”

  Amean shook his head firmly. “I don’t like it.”

  “There is nothing to like about any of this, old friend,” Aron said, having already made up his mind. “Jou Amn will lead the main body on to the Twins and Lord Felbar. The rest of us will head for Dreamhaven. Jou, tell Marshal Dlorn about us. Get the army ready to march. Once we return, I imagine our first battle won’t be far off. The Black will stop at nothing to get the Staff from us. With Dlorn and the legions of Galdea, we might be able to hold out long enough for the Hierarchy to field their army.

  “If we don’t?” Amean asked.

  “Aldar have mercy on our souls,” the elf answered.

  “Then it’s settled,” Aron said. “The time has come to be on our way.”

  The tired band broke camp and remounted. Each knew the enemy was close behind and time was slipping away. The burly Jou Amn led the column east, while Aron and his small band stayed and watched until the golden mass was out of sight. Aron gave those remaining an odd look. A more curious collection of people he couldn’t imagine. An elf prince with his silent warrior friend from across the shore, an old veteran ready to retire, a seer and now love interest, and a princess bent on revenge. With a grim nod, he spurred them on.

  ***

  Jent Tariens stood atop the wall, pained with fatigue. Bodies lay strewn all around. Some were men, others darkling. The battle began shortly after the discovery of King Elian’s corpse. A host of darklings then emerged from the cover of the outlying forests and laid siege to Galdarath. The defenders barely had time to close the gates before the black wave crashed upon the wood and stone.

  Darklings were already climbing the walls when Harrin Slinmyer rallied those already on duty and sounded the alarm, virtually saving the city by doing so. The fight was well underway by the time archers manned their towers and began firing their deadly bolts into the mass of enemies. Despite this effort, darklings continued to gain the upper hand.

  The wall was almost lost by the time Tariens and the main force arrived. Harrin and his company fought bravely, but they knew they wouldn’t be able to hold long. The battle continued for two hours. Weary men fought for their lives, their city, and their kingdom. Fatigue bit into them as they carried on. Each knew that should the gates fall, so too would Galdarath.

  Thoughts of sending a mounted counterattack out into the darklings were quickly discarded. Even with their senior leadership off to the Twins, those left in power were reluctant to waste manpower on a whim. Tariens managed to seize control of the battle, sending fresh troops to plug holes in the line. Kill teams were dispatched to hunt down those darklings that had managed to break through. Enemy fighters died by the score and still they came on.

  Jent Tariens studied the battlefield for signs of a plan. His horror emerged when he realized what the darklings were doing. The battle at the gates was a feint. Darklings were trying to draw attention away from something else, something important. A portion of the battlements crumbled, allowing dozens of darklings into the city. Harrin Slinmyer and his valiant few were there immediately, keeping the defense from collapsing. Several men and all the darklings died in the fever pitched struggle. Harrin suffered from injuries to his right leg and had to be removed, against his will.

  The newly titled Steward of Galdea posted lookouts to watch for another airborne incursion. Thankfully, none came. Tariens still wasn’t comfortable with his new position but was also equally determined to perform at the highest level. Anything to keep his people alive. Another battalion of fresh soldiers poured up the ramparts. The darklings broke off their attack, despite having most of the advantages. They filed away without a word, leaving their dead and wounded before folding back into the forest.

  A great cheer arose from the defenders, for it was their second victory over the tide of darkness. Hope was not lost. Only Jent Tariens wasn’t so sure. The darklings knew exactly what they were doing. They had the numerical advantages and were threatening to break through with each attempt. Tariens turned to face his beloved city and wondered. What were they protecting?

  “Arison!” he bellowed, sheathing his sword.

  The young, blood-stained lieutenant approached.

  “I want the city put on lock down. Everyone is to remain in their homes until further notice. All soldiers not involved in wall defense will break down into squad-sized elements and scour the city. I want the Black Imelin and his entourage found and detained, preferably alive. You have your orders,” he barked.

  Arison saluted and began shouting at his subordinates. Wind driving his hair back, Tariens faced the forest and waited for the next attack he was certain was coming. As long as that damned wizard remains within the walls, we’ll be under siege.

  The Black Imelin rode free of Galdarath with mixed emotions. His deception with the darklings went exceedingly well, even if it cost him too many lives. Hundreds of darklings died, but it was a small price to pay. He regretted the loss of Artle Colinger, but that, too, had been necessary. There was no way the king killer would have been accepted as the new ruler. Artle was a worm and could not be trusted. Still, the man had served his purpose and was properly disposed of.

  The death of his men, loyal soldiers and mercenaries who had followed him from Meisthelm far to the south, at the hands of those meddlesome priests of the Red Brotherhood was inexcusable, however. They deserved a better end. That too, he reluctantly admitted, was necessary. If the world were to die this very day, it would bother him little. So long as all ended by his decree.

  The relief on his face quickly faded as images of the young lordling
Aron Kryte came to him. The very name filled him with such intense rage, he felt the urge to kill. Gulnick Baach, his renegade general and second in command, rode behind in silence. Matters were spiraling too far out of control for the tempered man’s liking. This was not what he had bargained for when he betrayed the Hierarchy and blindly followed Imelin across the face of the world. The way matters were progressing, Gulnick was certain they were barreling towards the fiery pits of the underworld. Yet, together they continued north. To the only place the Black could think of. The valley of the Twins and dragon that was Field Marshal Dlorn and his waiting army.

  ***

  Fear drove them. Night fell and so too did the gripping fangs of the darklings. The attack happened shortly after Aron and his companions stopped to rest their horses and snatch a quick bite to eat. Frantic moments of struggle ensued, resulting in the death of a handful of darklings and minor cuts and bruises for the heroes.

  Hours had passed since the first darkling had broken through the startled defenders’ camp and Aron pushed them harder. He practically felt the enemy’s breaths upon him. The terror of their icy fingers clawing down his back. Sweat lathered the horses. Pure adrenaline pushed him on, for every second meant one in which they might be caught.

  They ran on through the night, until at last Aron felt the tension was eased. He brought them back to a slow walk and took in what he could see of the surrounding terrain. What he saw disturbed him. They had been driven into a small ravine. A death trap for sure. It was Andolus’ warning that broke his thoughts. The elf prince smelled the trap and tried to warn the others. It was too late. Long Shadow drew his sword, as the others looked about in confusion. The ravine walls had come alive in the night with the piercing red glare of eyes. The darklings had never left them after all.

  TWO

  Dreamhaven

  Aron swung his sword with all the force he could muster. The darkling fell, neatly clove in two. Howls went up from the dozens more watching along the steep banks. Rage pounded them, the hunger of a promised kill. A horse snickered in fear, trying desperately to bolt, only to be held fast by the rider.

  “We have to get out of here!” Karin shouted above the roar.

  Thus far, only three darklings had bothered attacking. It was almost as if they were trying to force the trapped humans into making a miscalculated move. A crash sounded behind those trapped. Aron wheeled his horse around in time to watch a giant tree slam to the ground in a blizzard of broken branches, kicking up snow and dirt. Their escape route was cut off.

  “Aron!” Karin cried out in grief.

  The split-second plans to which he had grown so accustomed, abandoned him. Aron could do nothing but sit back and watch as the glaring red eyes edged closer, drawing the noose tighter. The stranglehold was about to succeed. All the dreams of saving the Free Lands evaporated.

  Unseen by anyone, Long Shadow growled with preemptive satisfaction. Taking the reins between his teeth, his twin broadswords were poised to strike. The forged steel danced like wild magic in the pale moonlight. Andolus motioned to Karin and both simultaneously nocked arrows. The old, but dependable Amean drew Elsyn’s horse close to his and confided that all was going to be fine, though he was ignorant as to what was about to happen.

  Andolus caught Long Shadow’s attention and nodded slowly. Darkling howls subsided in the night, as if they were suddenly eager to bear witness to what followed. Another nod to Karin and arrows flew, whistling through the air and echoing dully within the soft flesh of a pair of darklings. The chaos began anew, but this time, the tiny band of heroes was prepared.

  In the split second they shot their arrows, Long Shadow charged into the darklings. The others were hard pressed to keep up as the silent warrior went into battle rage. There was but one way to quench his need. The blood of darklings. Speed of horse and skill with steel, sent him plunging into the massed ranks. Long Shadow was upon them before the darklings were able to establish a cordon. Swords swung with blinding speed. Aron and the others smashed into the darklings moments later. The darkling line broke, what few remained alive or uninjured.

  “Quickly!” Andolus urged, “Before they reorganize. We have to get clear of the ravine.”

  Amean snatched Elsyn’s reins, as she clung for dear life. He looked up in astonishment as the elf prince somehow managed to spin around in his saddle and draw a bead on a tree halfway up the slope. A thick rag had been wrapped around his arrow shaft. Andolus slowed his horse and took aim. A darkling sprung from hiding, barreling towards the much hated elfling. Aron swept in to intercept the darkling, splitting it open from neck to hip. Andolus fired as the corpse struck the ground.

  The arrow sped, fast and true, exploding upon contact. Several darklings too near the tree caught fire and ran shrieking into the night. Others fell dead. The tiny band struggled on.

  “Keep riding!” Andolus shouted to them. “Press hard and we’ll make it.”

  Long Shadow was already blazing a path through the press of bodies. The sloping ground was littered with corpses. Snow turned dark with blood. The stench of death choked them all. Horses jerked, threatening to break away. Swords rose and fell. Claws raked exposed flesh. The battle became fluid, moving from one end of the ravine to the other as the band of heroes struggled ahead.

  Bringing up the rear, Aron Kryte did his best to buy time for the others. The Staff of Life bounced along his horse’s flank, bring much attention to itself. The darklings caught sight of it and the primitive parts of their brains registered it as the object their master desired. They howled with perverse delight. The master would be pleased, or perhaps they might take the Staff to Duoth N’nclogbar so that the darklings might rule for eternity. Decisions like that, while complex for the monsters, could come after the Staff was secure.

  Aron felt the incline as horse and rider started to climb. Hope drove him forward. Once clear of the murderous ravine, his group stood a much better chance of outrunning the darklings. To his surprise, none of the vile creatures were waiting as he began the ascent. He also grew concerned at how far behind he was falling. What little he could see, prevented despair from sinking in. Long Shadow was in the lead, already clearing a small patch of earth, while the others sprinted to him.

  “Look! Aron’s being trapped!” Elsyn called, pointing back, as throngs of darklings swarmed in from the sides to cut off the Golden Warrior’s escape.

  Long Shadow reacted as if he’d been expecting such. Dismounting, he stalked toward the mass of darklings and to what Amean was convinced, certain death. Archers nocked and fired in support. Swords cut and slashed. Bodies piled. Long Shadow was immersed in his element. A natural force of nature, unstoppable and volatile beyond compare.

  Amean watched, helplessly, as Aron struggled to climb out of the ravine. Claws raked Aron’s horse. It kicked back in reflex, crushing the chest of the darkling responsible. The move allowed Aron to win free of the trap. With a final burst of speed, the wounded horse surged past Long Shadow and on into the safety of the group. Darklings on the ravine floor snarled in rage. They pushed ahead.

  Seven clambered over their fallen to encircle Long Shadow. The bald, mountain of a man was clearly the greatest threat. Man and monster squared off. Long Shadow’s eyes took in each detail of the darklings. Their body language. Their poise. One sword raised, the other low, he darted forward. Two darklings fell dead. Fresh blood dripped from his blades. Another pair fell, feathered with arrows. Long Shadow pressed.

  A darkling leapt high, seeking to come down on his head, and was skewered for the effort. Long Shadow threw the body away and crouched low with a backhand swing that decapitated a second darkling. The last, suddenly losing courage, sought to run but was killed by an arrow in the throat. Long Shadow rose slowly, arms out to his sides in silent challenge. No enemy within eyesight, he moved slowly and deliberately back up the slope to his waiting horse. The grim smile on his blood streaked face left Elsyn in fear.

  “Come on!” Karin shouted. The wearines
s of their flight showing in the strain of her voice. “We have to go before others show up.”

  “She’ll never make it, not with my weight on her,” Aron announced after inspecting his wounded horse. “Andolus, how much further to Dreamhaven?”

  “Mayhap six hours. It’s hard to tell without the sun. Much of this terrain is unfamiliar to me. The night and snow only make it worse.”

  “Here, take my horse. Maybe I can at least slow those beasts down enough for the rest of you to escape,” Amean volunteered. Dark resolve oozed from his words.

  Aron looked at him with shock. “What are you saying? No one is staying behind. Suicide serves no purpose. Least of all for you, old man.”

  “I’m too old to go running all over the creation on some damn fool quest,” Amean shook his head.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Karin said. She’d come to think of him almost as a father figure. “What about your daughter? And her child? Are you going to abandon them to the wolves as well?”

  He said nothing.

  “We need you, my friend,” Aron said with the finality of a commanding officer. “No one stays. If we can’t make it together, we don’t make it at all.”

  “And your horse?”

  Aron shrugged. “Will go as far as she can.”

  “Wait,” Karin offered. “You can double up with me. I don’t weight that much and it should give her enough time to heal.”

  He caught her sharp smile, so well disguised behind a stern face, threatening to crack. She was going to enjoy this more than he. A howl went up from the opposite end of the ravine. It wouldn’t take long for the darklings to get around that fallen tree. Aron, reluctantly, climbed behind Karin and tied his wounded steed to hers. Once again, the little company struck out for promised safety. Andolus led. The doom bringer Long Shadow bringing up the rear. In a burst of rage, darklings swept past their dead and continued the hunt.