Amidst The Rising Shadows (Book 3) (25 page)

Please no,
Aaron thought and turned to the other Ryakul. “It’s the sickness. The same thing that turns the Dragons into Ryakuls.”
 

The snarling Eldarin’s hide faded to gray.

“Go!” Aaron shouted to the Eldarin behind him. “Or you’ll be infected too. Go!” he screamed.

The Eldarin behind him drew back its head and sent a blast of energy into the Eldarin while releasing a mournful howl at the same time. The sickened Eldarin fell back as the other took to the sky. The infected Eldarin regained its footing and followed. The two streaked away and disappeared in a green flash.

Aaron released the energy and felt his strength leave him. The staff kept him upright. He heard soft footsteps behind him and spun around. Sarah stood before him. Their eyes searched each others as if they were afraid that the other would fade away.
 

"I didn't...I didn't know it was you," Sarah said.

His heart filled his chest, and before he knew anything, they held each other. Aaron swung her around in his arms, crying out, losing himself in the blue of her eyes and the feel of her in his arms. They didn’t say anything, their eyes speaking the volumes that their mouths couldn’t say, and held each other.
 

The soldiers of the High King’s army retreated, no longer having the element of surprise. While the Ryakuls had been an advantage to them, the battle with the Eldarin had shaken their spirit. The Free Nations Army along with the Lorric forces pushed forward until the High King’s army disappeared in a blinding flash of light. The soldiers remaining on the field cheered, but those who knew the High King knew that this victory wouldn’t go unanswered.

C
HAPTER
17

WARNING

Rordan was with General Khoiron in the command tent when one of Khamearra’s armies returned ahead of schedule. As the reports came in the more the old general’s furrowed brows deepened. He fingered the apprentice amulet he had worn since he had found it. If truth be told, Mactar had left it for him. Since he started wearing it, he had been able to feel more of the energy around him. He hardly noticed the muddled whisperings of souls past that spewed sultry promises of glory and power.
 

At first he refused to wear it, convincing himself that he didn't need it, but as time went on he found that there were advantages to wearing the amulet in spite of the cost. He could stop the beating hearts of those around him if he focused on it. His experiments on a few random people brought Mactar’s attention, as if he had been expecting it all along. He’d been tempted to use his newfound ability on his sister, but decided it would be much more entertaining to watch her struggle against their father.
 

Rordan looked up and found Khoiron eyeing him. He always felt as if the old general was taking his measure, but his craggy old face gave away nothing in return. The High King had just joined them, having been away on one of the planned assaults. His father had said to him earlier that there are some things best observed with one’s own eyes. Rordan knew that despite what his father had said, that he had other reasons to go. One thing he had learned about his father is that he had an unquenchable thirst for blood, and it was only a matter of time before he would lead more attacks.

“Bottom line, they were prepared for our attack,” Khoiron said.

“How prepared could they have been?” the High King asked.

“They had additional support from the Free Nations Army,” Khoiron replied.

“Free Nations Army,” the High King sneered.

“Like it or not, your Grace. They are a force to be reckoned with and represent our real enemies in this. Lorric was slated to be an easy victory, and the troops sent in for the attack should have been more than adequate for the job. In fact, with the additional support from Darven and his Ryakuls this attack should have been downright easy,” Khoiron said.

The High King eyed the old general for a moment, “As usual your counsel is as sound as your logic. So tell me how we were defeated and where is Darven.”

“Before we delve into the particulars of the battle there is another thing that warrants your attention,” Khoiron said and gestured to the guards.

The guards left the tent, and four Elitesmen returned with a hooded prisoner. The prisoner was broad shouldered and taller than most men in the room. He wore the uniform of the FNA that was almost in tatters, but Rordan could see something painted on his chest. An Elitesman kicked the man behind the knees, driving them to the ground and removed his hood.

The High King’s eyes flashed as he studied the prisoner before him, “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Do you not recognize the face of your enemy, Father?” Rordan asked. “This is Aaron, the Heir of Shandara.”

The High King glanced around the room, “No, it’s not.”

Rordan glanced at Khoiron, “It is him, Father. I recognize his face.”

“As do I, Son, but this is not him. I would know it,” the High King said and stepped up to the prisoner, grabbing his face. “The likeness is remarkable. I can see why you would be fooled.”

“An impostor,” Rordan said.

“He had these on him when we captured him,” an Elitesman said and handed the High King two swords.

“Now these I recognize. They are not fake. They are known as the Falcons and have been in the Alenzar’seth family for generations,” the High King said and drew one of the blades from its sheath. There was a crystal inlaid into the pommel, and the craftsmanship of the blades with the notches was beyond compare. “There are legends about these swords. In the hands of the right master the bladesong unleashed could sway the hearts of men.” The High King returned the blade to its sheath. “Why don’t you tell us who you are?”

The impostor met the High King’s gaze, “I am Aaron Jace.”

The High King roared, grabbing the impostor by the throat and lifting him off the ground with one arm. “If you really were Aaron Jace, I wouldn’t be able to do this to you,” the High King said and slammed the impostor back onto the ground.

Rordan watched as his father stepped away. He could sense the energy gathered around his father with such intensity that he had only felt it once before by another man. His father was right, the man before them could never be the true Heir of Shandara.
 

The High King raised his hand, and the impostor was lifted by forces unseen. The tips of his feet dragged along the floor, but despite the blow that would have killed an ordinary man the impostor appeared to have been untouched. There was a shift in the man’s eyes as his narrowed gaze found that of the High King.

“You believe you are powerful. Your people’s days are numbered, human. You’re already dead, and you don’t even know it.”

The High King drew his sword, and in the blink of an eye a deep red slice opened up the impostor from navel to shoulder. The impostor laughed, and Rordan’s eyes widened as the skin stitched itself back up again. The High King spun, and the impostor’s head left his shoulders, dropping to the ground. The High King thrust out his other hand, sending a blazing orb, and the body of the impostor was reduced to ash in seconds.

“Now we can’t question him,” Rordan said.

“He wasn’t going to tell us anything. He was a spy, judging by the fact that he had these,” the High King said gesturing toward the Falcons, “he had some measure of success over our enemies.”

Darven entered the tent, and the Elitesmen all but hissed at the man. Darven ignored them and glanced at the blood-stained ground with remnant ashes that swirled around his feet. He saluted the High King, who nodded back and asked him for his report.

“The Ryakuls have been proven effective in the battle, your Grace. We had Lorric on the run. They were scattered, even with the help of the Free Nations Army. Mactar continues to gather more as we speak,” Darven said.

General Khoiron frowned, “My reports say you lost control of some of them.”

“Yes, that is true,” Darven said.

“I hope you can explain why.”

“The FNA were able to summon two of the biggest Dragons I’ve ever seen. It was all I could do to retain control of the ones in my immediate vicinity,” Darven said.

“Dragons? Like the ones that came to the arena, the Eldarin?” Rordan asked.

“The very same. As soon as they appeared, the Ryakuls seem to give in to some primal instinct. We’ve observed similar behavior while hunting Ryakuls, but it wasn’t until today that I learned that the connection between Ryakul and Dragons is much deeper,” Darven said and described what he saw with the Eldarin before he had been chased off.

“You saw the change actually occur?” the High King asked.

“The beginning stages of it, yes,” Darven replied.

“This would explain why we've seen fewer Dragons over the years,” the High King said.

“Your Grace,” Khoiron said, “we shouldn’t overlook the fact that Lorric was prepared for our attack and the Free Nations Army was able to aid them awfully quick. There are only two explanations for this. Either they were already camped in Lorric since we scouted out the kingdom previously, which seems unlikely, or they too have a way to move armies instantaneously. This changes things.”

“You are correct, things have changed. We’ve proved our point by attacking the smaller kingdoms, but now we need to be more aggressive. We need to take the heart of the Free Nations Army at their source. We break that army, and the rest of the kingdoms will fall into line,” the High King said.

“A bold plan. We outnumber them, but if we take the fight to them then our greater numbers will be cancelled out because they are well fortified,” Khoiron said.

The High King’s lips lifted into a wolfish smile, “I find misdirection to be an effective tool in battle. We have the advantage of numbers, Elitesmen, and Ryakuls.”

“I know what I’m about to say you’ve already considered, but I’ll say it anyway,” Khoiron said. “To commit ourselves to this will require the use of all of our troops and resources.”

“Agreed, we have a lot of work to do,” the High King said.

They spent the rest of the day coordinating how the attack was going to happen, and at some point it occurred to Rordan that this is what his father had been angling toward for some time. He studied each of the men, from the army generals to the Elite Masters. Each came with their own shroud of darkness and death upon them with the exception of general Khoiron. To him this was a game pure and simple. Though they hadn’t discussed it openly, it was implied that the true Heir of Shandara was in Lorric and had turned the tide of the battle there. Rordan knew that his father relished the challenge that Aaron posed. Rordan just thought it would be convenient for him if they both killed each other off and he could be done with it. There were some in the room that didn’t favor the High King’s plan, but they knew better than to press the issue. One of the conveniences of absolute obedience. Loyalty and fear kept these men in line, and his father was a master at determining which would serve him best.

“I would speak with my son now. We’ll reconvene tomorrow afternoon,” the High King said.

The men left the tent, but his father didn’t say anything.

“How long have you had this planned?” Rordan asked.

“Since the first attack on the city.”

“Why not attack them then?”

“People like Mactar are full of great ideas, but without actually having our troops go through the attacks over the last few weeks, they would lack the experience needed to assure victory over our enemies. They have a few victories under their belts and have hardened a bit. Now they're ready for a real battle.”

Rordan frowned, “Mactar? I thought it was Gerric who came up with using the focusing crystal to move the army from place to place?”

“Gerric has many talents, but coming up with innovative ways to use the tools we have at our disposal is not one of them.”

Rordan shook his head. “I’ll never understand the alliance you have with Mactar.”

“You need to understand if you’re to succeed me as king one day, Son. Mactar lusts for power and freedom. He doesn’t wish to rule, and he would fall short if he ever challenged me. I give him the means to carry out things he would probably do anyway, but I get the benefits of his innovation.”

“Was it innovation that led Tye to an early grave?” Rordan asked.

“Your brother was ever trying to keep up with you and Primus. Should I blame you for Tye’s shortcomings?”

“Of course not, but what Mactar did wasn’t right,” Rordan said.

His father leveled his gaze at him. “Do you honestly believe that Mactar did anything without my knowing about it first?”

Rordan searched his father’s face and almost cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

“You want to know why?” his father asked. “I had three sons, and only one of you was going to inherit this crown. I had always suspected you would outlast the others. Primus was too impulsive, and Tye was the same though with a bit more jealousy. Mactar had come to me saying that he may have found where Reymius had been hiding all these long years. That Reymius had an heir. Some of the things Mactar says I take with a grain of salt, and that was one of them.”

“But you risked Tye on one of Mactar’s whims,” Rordan said.

“Your brother would have found another way to test himself. I didn’t actually believe that Reymius survived the fall of Shandara or got his daughter, Carlowen, out of there. So yes, I allowed Tye his quest. I sent Darven with him. If he survived he would be stronger for it. Good for him and good for me.”