The Knights of Erador (The Echoes Saga: Book 7), page 49
“Help Reyna!” Nathaniel barked. The old knight severed one of his opponent’s hands but it troubled the dead soldier no more than the armour embedded in its chest.
Kassian holstered his wand and drew his sword. “There’s more coming on your right,” he warned Nathaniel before moving to aid Reyna.
“I can handle them!” Nathaniel assured, running steel through his enemy’s gut.
The Keeper dragged the length of his sword across his left vambrace, activating the spell that bound both items together. The blade ignited from within as if it contained the sun itself. From guard to tip, the steel burned a bright white, turning every drop of rain into sizzling steam.
Of the three soldiers brought down by Reyna, two of them rose from the ground and moved to intercept Kassian. Unfortunately for them, the Keeper was naught but fury given life.
He dashed to the left and swung his sword through the first soldier’s hip, almost chopping the dead man in half. The second soldier failed to land its blow, missing Kassian by an inch, only to have the top half of its head cleaved off by the hottest sword in the realm.
With no one between him and the soldier on top of Reyna, Kassian raised his weapon to finish the assault. The elf was faster and clearly angered by the dead man trying to strangle her. Using both hands, Reyna twisted his helmeted head, snapping the neck with an audible crack. The ambassador rolled the body aside and jumped to her feet before ramming her scimitar down into its head.
“Nathaniel!” she cried.
Turning back, the old Graycoat had successfully dispatched the soldier with a crushed torso - the body was lying several feet away from its head. But now he was quickly being surrounded by the remaining five. Kassian was only too happy to jump into the fray, his sword keen to melt iron and flesh alike.
Halting their charge, the adjacent alley exploded with activity as five men, hooded and cloaked in navy, collided with the soldiers in a clash of steel. Their form betrayed years of training and their brutal efficiency demonstrated a level of skill reserved only for the realm’s elite fighters. Assisted by Nathaniel, the six men quickly overcame the dark soldiers. The battle ended with all five of the soldiers losing their heads…
Somewhat exhausted, Nathaniel staggered away from the scene. “They’re Reavers!” he declared.
Kassian had a lot of questions given what he had just witnessed and Nathaniel’s announcement wasn’t an answer the Keeper understood.
One of the men from the alley pulled back his hood to reveal a grizzled square jaw and a short mane of dark hair. “That they are, Ambassador,” he agreed.
“Sir Ruban?” The old knight frowned.
“What are the king’s guard doing here?” Reyna asked.
“The king charged us with finding you in Velia,” Ruban replied, sheathing his sword. “Alas, we never made it farther than Dunwich before they arrived.”
“What in all the hells are they?” Kassian demanded.
Sir Ruban looked him up and down. “A Keeper?” His assessment was followed by a hand reaching for his sword again.
“He’s with us,” Nathaniel vouched, holding a hand over Ruban’s.
Reyna turned to face the three soldiers who had attacked her. “They are Reavers.”
Kassian followed her gaze to discover, quite horrifyingly, that the soldier he had damn near sliced in half was slowly crawling towards them. “What’s a Reaver?” he asked absently.
“The undead,” Reyna said bluntly.
That explained why Kassian had never heard of a Reaver before - necromancy was the most forbidden of magics. “Of course,” he said as if it was obvious. “He couldn’t just be a tyrant. He’s a necromancer too…”
Neither of the Galfreys had a response. Ruban gave one of his men the nod and they intercepted the crawling Reaver without delay. A quick chop and its head was parted in the middle of the street.
“Decapitation or fire,” Sir Ruban stated. “Nothing else will kill them.”
“Good to know.” Kassian touched his blade to the enchanted vambrace on his left wrist, retiring the weapon to its previous state.
“Who is this tyrant you speak of?” the king’s guard enquired.
The awkward silence that rose between Kassian and the Galfreys was short-lived. Along with the king’s guard, they all heard the sound of more clamouring armour coming towards them.
One townsman poked his head out of a second storey window and hissed, “Run!” He was looking down the intersecting street in terror.
“Follow us,” Sir Ruban insisted. “We have rented rooms not far from here.”
The king’s guard took the lead and retraced their steps down the alley. Kassian couldn’t help but look back at the massacre they were leaving behind. The street was littered with severed heads, butcher’s meat, and shattered glass.
“Keep up, Kassian.” Nathaniel’s call reminded the Keeper that there were more undead soldiers hunting them down and he picked up the pace.
They were led through a maze of alleys and streets, disorientating Kassian. His time in Valatos had done him no favours when it came to navigating the world. They paused by every corner, checking the way was clear of Reavers. Here and there, the dark soldiers patrolled in pairs. It was unnerving to see two corpses walking like men.
At last, Sir Ruban and his men brought them to The Wayfarer, a cosy-looking inn. The owner gave them a knowing nod as they passed through and ascended to their rooms. Once inside, Nathaniel positioned himself by the window and peered through the crack in the curtains. Kassian had to wonder how many times the Galfreys had been in a similar position.
“It is a gift that our paths should meet like this,” Sir Ruban said. “King Vighon has been most concerned for you both. We would have reached Velia by now were it not for these fiends. After they arrived in town, we were immediately targeted.” He gestured to a neat row of armour lined up against the far wall. “We were forced to remove anything that connected us to the king.”
“Did they kill the entire watch?” Nathaniel asked.
“No. After the four in the courtyard were executed, the rest surrendered their plate and weapons. We have managed to meet with a few, but most have families here - they don’t want to risk anything.”
Reyna joined her husband by the window. “Have they hurt anyone else?”
“Not that we know of,” Sir Ruban replied. “Are they in Velia too? Is that why you left?”
The Galfreys looked at each other but neither offered the king’s guard an answer. “Should I tell them?” Kassian had no qualms about telling everyone how evil Alijah Galfrey was.
Reyna reached out and squeezed her husband’s wrist, ushering him forward a step. “I’m afraid, Sir Ruban, things are worse than you think…”
Kassian remained leaning against the wall while the old Graycoat told of their tale, detailing everything from their arrival in Valatos to their son’s betrayal. Reyna had turned away for the latter, her face hidden from the room. News of Alijah’s part in the invasion hadn’t just hit the Galfreys, but the king’s guard too, especially their captain. Sir Ruban had slumped into a chair, his expression a mix of confusion, horror, and disbelief.
“He was travelling with us for weeks,” the captain uttered. “He fooled us all…” Sir Ruban held a moment of silence as he put his thoughts together. Then he jumped up. “The king! We must return to the capital at once.” He nodded at the armour across the room and his men immediately began preparing it all for travel.
Nathaniel raised his hand. “We’re going to Namdhor,” he told them. “But if Dunwich is proof of anything it’s that the realm is crawling with Reavers. We would be best waiting for nightfall before leaving the town.”
Sir Ruban wasn’t satisfied. “King Vighon is in danger. He needs the best of the king’s guard around him.”
Kassian pushed off from the wall. “The Reavers are already south of here. There’s a good chance they’ve taken Namdhor. Your king is likely dead and buried.”
The captain started forward threateningly but Nathaniel got in his way and shoved him back.
Kassian raised his hands. “That said, I’m ready to go now.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes at the Keeper. “You’re lucky to have made it this far with that rage of yours.”
Kassian narrowed his eyes. “My rage will be the last thing Alijah Galfrey ever sees.” He looked to the captain. “Help me get inside that keep and I promise I’ll avenge your king.”
“He’s your king too!” Sir Ruban spat.
“Enough,” Reyna declared, her eyes glassy. “We will wait for the cover of night, lest we never reach the capital at all.” The elven princess carried a manner that wasn’t to be argued with.
Kassian, of a sour mood, made for the door.
“Where are you going?’ Nathaniel called after him.
“Anywhere but here.” The Keeper paused as he opened the door. “Just be ready to leave. I’m not waiting a minute longer than sundown…”
Having seethed in a quiet booth for the rest of the day, Kassian returned to the room as the sun’s last rays of light were burning the sky orange. He returned to a room of confusion.
Nathaniel was trying to see past him, into the corridor. “Where’s Reyna?” he asked in a concerned tone.
The Keeper’s eyes shifted from one part of the room to another before glancing over his shoulder. “I saw her last in here,” he replied.
The old Graycoat shook his head. “She said she was going after you, to talk.”
Kassian shrugged. “Well, she never found me. I haven’t left the inn.”
Nathaniel was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Did you see her leave?” he demanded.
“I told you,” he repeated, “I haven’t seen her since I left this room.”
Now the king’s guard appeared just as concerned as Nathaniel, who quickly dashed to the window and scanned the streets below.
“The sun is setting,” Kassian pointed out. “I’m sure she will return soon.”
Nathaniel ran his hand through his hair, his stress mounting. “You don’t know Reyna. If you were downstairs, she would have found you.” He held up his left hand and pinched his wedding ring between finger and thumb.
“Well, what would Reyna do if she didn’t find me?”
“If she didn’t find you it’s because she wasn’t really looking for you.” The knight’s fingers fluttered to the window and his shoulders sagged. “She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Kassian echoed. “Gone where?”
Nathaniel raised his arm and watched his hand intently as the fingers twitched, steering him to the left. “She’s gone north,” he said. “She’s going to Namdhor…”
“Are you sure?” Sir Ruban asked, as he gestured for his men to grab their gear.
Nathaniel held up his left hand. “Our bands are enchanted, paired to each other.” He rubbed his eyes in frustration. “She wants to confront Alijah. That’s where she’s gone…”
Kassian groaned. “There goes my element of surprise.”
Nathaniel turned dark eyes on the Keeper. “Your inevitable death at Alijah’s hands is not my concern right now.” He faced the captain. “We need to leave, now.”
Sir Ruban nodded his agreement. “With any luck we’ll catch her up on the road.”
Nathaniel didn’t share his optimism. “She’s an elf. She only has to run for an hour and there’ll be days between us.”
Kassian was still fuming, lingering on his inevitable death. “Whether Reyna tells him I’m coming or not, Alijah Galfrey will die by my hand.”
Nathaniel exploded with energy on his way past the Keeper. A strong arm slammed into Kassian’s chest and shoved him hard into the wall, bringing the men face to face.
“When are you going to see past your grief and see sense?” he growled. “I’ve fought against odds like these more than once. Trust me, Kassian Kantaris, they cannot be fought alone. You don’t beat your enemy with might. You outmanoeuvre them. You outthink them. You wait for the opportune moment to strike and when you do, you make sure you’ve got swords at your back.”
Nathaniel released Kassian’s shirt and backed off. They held the other’s gaze for a moment as the Keeper took in what he could of Nathaniel’s speech.
“We’re leaving,” the old Graycoat announced at last, making for the door.
Kassian was the last to leave. He waited with his back to the wall and a stare that could pierce time itself. He had heard Nathaniel’s words and even seen the logic in his strategy. But, the truth was, he had no one to help him. The Keeper was alone in his crusade for none had suffered as he had.
Besides, where would he find an army to give him swords at his back?
41
Orders From On High
By The Evermoore’s most northern edge, where the tree line met the blanketing snows of The White Vale, Galanör Reveeri looked out on a cold and uninviting horizon. Such was the land of the northerners, a hardened people. He couldn’t imagine Namdhor being taken from them, just as he couldn’t imagine Dhenaheim being taken from the dwarves.
But then he recalled Alijah and Malliath, laying waste to Ilythyra. Seeing their power and ferocity had taken his imagination to nightmarish heights where anything was possible. The fact that Lady Ellöria no longer walked the earth was still shocking, a feeling that swelled amongst the other elves.
Save for Queen Adilandra and perhaps Gideon Thorn, there wasn’t any in all the realm that Galanör would have believed capable of defeating Ellöria. Yet defeated she was…
In the wake of her sacrifice, the elves of Ilythyra had raced across the land with admirable speed. With help from the centaurs of The Moonlit Plains, they had cut across those ancient fields, avoiding The Selk Road, and made their way into the dense embrace of The Evermoore. Steering clear of Vangarth and Lirian, they had travelled north through the forest, pausing only to investigate the ruin of Ikirith.
There they had found nothing but a handful of dead Drakes.
Maintaining their speed, the elves continued, circumnavigating the town of Wood Vale, until they were faced with the bitter north.
The warrior in Galanör was eager to move on again and finish his hunt. Alijah was likely on the other side of The White Vale, cosy and warm inside his new keep. All the while, Ellöria’s body lay cold and stiff on Ilythyra’s hard ground.
“Speak your mind, Ranger.”
Galanör turned from the view to see Aenwyn standing between the trees, her approach unheard. There were others within the hierarchy whose voice carried above her own, but Aenwyn’s long-time position by Ellöria’s side gave her words more weight than other’s. She had rallied the elves more than once, giving them encouragement to keep going in light of their loss. She had also proven quite the hunter on their journey, displaying skills from a life before she sailed to Illian.
With her white bow slung over her back, Aenwyn crossed a fallen log and joined Galanör. “Speak your mind,” she repeated. “You will discover that when your words reach my ears, your burden will be lighter.”
“We’re close,” he replied, his eyes set on the horizon once more. “Namdhor lies just beyond sight. There we will find our quarry.”
“And you are eager to free your swords and see the matter dealt with,” Aenwyn stated.
Galanör paused and gave the elf a sideways glance. “Ellöria’s death must be answered for.”
Aenwyn turned to face him. “Is that why you think we have travelled all this way? To invade Namdhor and slay an elven prince and his dragon?”
The ranger frowned. “Alijah’s days as a prince are over. He sits on the throne as a king now. And why else would we have come all this way?”
Aenwyn put a hand flat against his chest. “Balance, Galanör. You must find your balance. You’re falling off the edge again - do not give in to the hunter. Instead, make it work for you.”
“Speak plainly,” Galanör replied in frustration. “Why have we journeyed to the north if not to challenge Alijah?”
“You have spent too long fighting alone in the wilds, Ranger. You must think like a soldier again. We must learn all that we can before revealing ourselves. This terrain is new to most of us and our enemy’s reach is unknown.”
“We came to observe?” Galanör clarified incredulously. “No,” he said shaking his head. “The terrain isn’t new to me. And our enemy’s reach grows with every second we waste watching them.”
“Were you blinded by Malliath’s fire?” Aenwyn asked. “Did you fail to witness the power of our foe? If Alijah can kill Lady Ellöria then he can certainly kill you. This is not a cause to be fought alone.”
Galanör took a much-needed breath. Aenwyn’s voice was among a very short list of things that calmed the ranger. He could still feel the heat of Malliath’s fire on his skin. When he closed his eyes, he saw the blinding light of Alijah’s magic colliding with Ellöria’s.
“Perhaps,” he drew out, “an element of strategy wouldn’t hurt.”
Aenwyn smiled, an infectious thing. “And I was beginning to fear that there was nothing but empty space between your ears…”
Galanör quietly laughed to himself. “You speak of strategy and thinking like a soldier,” he observed. “Is this from experience or from others?”
Aenwyn’s smile turned coy. “I wasn’t always a handmaiden. I was once an archer in the army, when it was King Elym’s army. I was even among those who set sail for Illian, at the end of The War for the Realm.”
“You were there?” Galanör recalled seeing the hundreds of elven warships from astride a dragon as they added their numbers to the battle of Velia.
“I was,” Aenwyn confirmed. “I saw you fly into battle. I never got any farther than Velia’s walls.”
Galanör was shocked. “I never knew this about you.”
Aenwyn held his gaze. “You still have a lot to learn…”
It was then, at that moment, that Galanör realised how important it was to survive Alijah’s invasion. “When did you return to Illian?”
