Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (13 page)

“The game should be called ‘Capture the Flag.’ That’s what we’re doing right, capturing the other team’s flag?” Ogdin interjected.

“Quiet, boy,” Boewdard reprimanded, “Learn your place and speak to an elder with respect. Besides, ‘Capture the Flag’ is a foolish name.”

“Aye, Blademaster, foolish indeed,” Modwyn agreed hastily. “Today, we will fight with you. Their flag is green and yours is red. You must defend your flag, which is located in the fort over there, from the Warriors.” Modwyn pointed to a large log structure across the field. “Now, I will assign your positions and ranks. Vivyan, your judgment and foresight have already manifested themselves in class. You will be the General for today. You will make the primary decisions and lay out our strategy. Will, you are a brilliant fighter. Power and speed are your forte. You will be Field Marshall. Real time decisions are your responsibility and so is commanding the soldiers.”

“What? I refuse to answer to him. I am much more suitable for a position of power,” Ogdin stated angrily.

The Blademaster cut in. “No, I see that you are not ready for such duty. You do not communicate nor do you inspire loyalty. You are in Scalefire for a reason, Daniel. You sneak. You may transform into a wolf, but that does not make you an alpha nor will it
guarantee you a pack if you continue to refuse to cooperate. Keep your current attitude and expect to work alone in a remote region outside the Empire or worse, executed for your insolence. At any rate, if Will is half as good as his father was with a blade, he would easily behead you,” Boewdard snapped angrily at Ogdin, who looked mutinous, but said nothing.

“Sir, you need not be so hard on him,” Will frowned, blushing at the undeserved compliment. Ogdin snarled wolfishly at him, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

The Blademaster contemplated Will then said with frustrated expression, “Even now your supposed enemy speaks in your defense, and you do not recognize him as a friend.”

“I need no friend!” Ogdin nearly shouted.

Boewdard slapped him full in the face with the back of his gloved hand. “Speak to me once more with that tone and you will receive another.”

“A pat on the cheek,” Ogdin said, glowering. The Blademaster smacked him again, but this time with a fist. The strike connected with Ogdin’s jaw and sent the recruit sprawling to the ground. Modwyn leapt to hold Boewdard back as the Blademaster made to punch again.

“You will learn obedience, cur, or I will kick it into you,” Boewdard spat, landing a heavy boot into Ogdin’s side.

Will watched this in horror. Getting over his shock, he moved to help Modwyn pull the Blademaster away from the now bloodied Ogdin. Panting in his rage, Boewdard finally stopped resisting their efforts to pull him away. Will went to Ogdin to help him to his feet.

“Get your hands off me,” the bruised-cheek recruit snapped, slapping aside Will’s outstretched hand.

Boewdard made to shout something, but Modwyn placed his hands on the Blademaster’s shoulders, leaving the older man scowling angrily at O
gdin.

“Anyway,” Modwyn interjected, “Hostice, you will be Captain and report to Will. As for the rest of you, prove yourself in battle, and I may promote you to a higher class,” Modwyn addressed Art, Ogdin, and the other boy.

“Vivyan, you may now explain your strategy.”

“
Ummm… I willingly admit to never having deployed troops before, but what harm can be done by a valiant effort?” Vivyan giggled nervously.

“For one, you could get us all killed,” Art murmured. Will shot him a stern look. “Only joking, of course,” Art grinned, shying away from Modwyn who playfully raised his hand as if to deliver a blow.

Vivyan did not seem amused. “Right, Will and you,” she indicated the troll-looking Scalefire boy, “I want you here with me. We will defend the flag. Modwyn and Arthur,” she said, drawing a diagram in the dirt, “Come around from this side. While Daniel and Hostice scout a covert route to their base, you two will be a distraction to draw their defense’s attention. When all are in position, use force to subdue their defenders and obtain the flag. Blademaster, stay with us. We will need your assistance.”

“Well strategized, Lady Vivyan! Take up positions,” Boewdard said.

They all jogged over to the fort. The log structure was tiny but two stories tall with stunted battlements that crowned the small edifice. Modwyn shot a green flare from his hand. It arched through the air and slowly faded into a mere glimmer as it fell to the ground.

“Go, go, go!” Modwyn shouted eagerly.

The assault team dashed into the forest, disappearing into its darkness. Will felt squeamish. Weary as he was, he did not know whether he would be able to fight or not.

“Nervous?” he whispered to Vivyan.

“Aye, you?”

“Did you see the size of those Warriors?” Will asked in answer.

Boewdard noticed the apprehension and leaned in. “At times, children, the odds may seem against you, and certain death may seem imminent. But fate has a funny way of ensuring your survival even through those things you most dread,” Boewdard said gravely. Will, not knowing whether this statement was actually comforting or not, internalized his mounting anxiety.

In silence, they waited for the Warriors. Will heard a shout and the clash of arms issue from deeper in the forest’s depths. His stomach tightened, and his heart jumped to beat at unhealthy rates.

A low grunt from the Scalefire boy alerted the fort’s defenders. The boy repeated, “Look, methinks it’s them.” He pointed to the edge of the forest, and the black shadow darted back into the darkness. “Yes, it is they! I sees them,” he said again. He unslung the large war-hammer from his back and held it at the ready.

Will knocked an arrow and gripped his bow tightly, his knuckles blanched. He heard Vivyan suck in her breath behind him. Will turned to look at Boewdard, who was smiling.

An arrow whistled past the defenders’ heads. Will popped from behind cover, pulling his bowstring back. As he saw the glint of a weapon behind a tree at the edge of the copse, he loosed the goose-feathered arrow towards the tree. He heard his victim scream.

Will ducked behind the turret’s wall. Disgusted and horrified, Will’s breaths came in quick pants. The day he had killed the raider rushed back to him. Will saw his mother on the ground, his home on fire. Tasting bile, he spat and, looking up, saw troll boy sprint down the steps of the fort.

“No, hold your position!” Will shouted at the recruit, but to no avail. The Scalefire was gone.

A whistle of a darting arrow soaring over his head brought Will’s focus back to the roof of the fort. Boewdard grimaced; he was hit in the shoulder. As the Blademaster yanked the arrow from his chainmail, his face contorted. The arrow had left a bloody hole in his clothing, but Boewdard did not treat the wound.

The Scalefire boy yelled as he charged the Warrior’s position in the trees. Then, Will heard him scream in agony. Boewdard dashed away without a word. Will peeked over the edge and quickly ducked back under again, but not before seeing his fellow recruit on the ground. The boy had been peppered with arrows and was squirming and thrashing around in a growing pool of blood.

Will felt the creature crawl toward his consciousness. It stopped just before engulfing his mind, but Will desired his power, anything to escape his reality. Throwing himself against the mental barrier, Will felt it shatter, and the creature blanketed his fears with power and rage.

Eyes ablaze and energy surging through his veins, Will smiled and stood tall above the battlements. He loosed three arrows at an advancing Warrior with inhuman speed. His heavy chest plate deflected two, but the third clanged off the helm the Warrior was wearing.

The Warrior collapsed, knocked out cold. Will slung his bow across his back and drew the now flaming red sword.

Will planted a foot on the turret’s side and jumped. Landing softly fifteen feet below, he looked up to assess the field. Boewdard had pulled troll boy to the safety of the fort and was tending to his multiple arrow wounds. The Warriors were out of sight behind trees, emerging only long enough to send arrows his way before dissolving back into the shadows.

Sprinting across the field, Will ducked and dodged arrows. One grazed his arm, and he howled in pain. It was a superficial wound, and the pain only added to his fury. He rolled to dodge another arrow.

Will had reached the forest’s edge with unearthly speed. He turned to his right and saw one of the twins lowering an arrow at him. He slammed himself up against a tree and felt the thump as the arrow struck it. A roar slipped from his mouth. The twin drew her weapon, her eyes flickering for a moment. Will charged. The girl’s eyes widened with fear. It was that fear that sustained the beast controlling Will’s mind. Will growled for more. Leaping into the air, he swung down at the twin’s head but was blocked. They held the position for a moment, fighting to best one another.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw a silver blur coming for his face. Dancing away from the first twin, he tried to block the surprise attack from the second, but her thin sword’s path suddenly shifted and slashed across Will’s side.

He bellowed, but the blade hadn’t penetrated his mail. Merely knocked breathless, Will fell to one knee on the leaf-strewn ground. Dazed, he peered out of his streaming eyes. Both twins stood, glaring down at him.

I will not be beat, not again
, Will thought furiously, mustering up the remnants of his strength. He tripped one of the twins and slashed the other’s feet out from under her in one deft movement. In their bulky armor, they fell fast and met the ground hard. Heaving himself up, Will ran past the fallen twins struggling to roll over.

I won’t take this game too far,
Will told himself. He felt the fire inside him fade slightly, but power still flowed through his veins like a fierce river.

A bloodcurdling scream alerted him, and Will dashed off in the direction of the sound. Coming upon a clearing, Will saw a siege laid out before him.

The Warrior’s defense had compelled the attackers to take cover. Any time a recruit tried to fire back or advance, the Warriors sent a volley at their mired foes. “Art! Where are you?” Will shouted.

“Here!” a voice answered from behind a tree. Will slipped through the wood, stopping behind a large oak. “This is suicide, how are we supposed to take the flag without dying?” Art asked incredulously, “It will be a massacre.”

Will’s sword glowed red as he said calmly, “We can do this. Follow close behind.” Art nodded gravely as his crazed friend raced towards the wooden fort hidden in the trees.

Arrows glanced off Will’s sword as he advanced upon the fort. He passed Hostice writhing upon the ground, trying to ignore the splashing sound she made with each movement. Advancing beyond Modwyn who was ducking behind a fallen tree, Will continued forward, fighting against the hailstorm of arrows. Like Boewdard, several arrows had found their mark in Modwyn’s armor. Intermittently firing a short bow, Ogdin in human form was attempting to cover Modwyn so that the healer might find pause to help the injured Hostice.

With Will distracting the archers on the rooftop, Art dragged the wounded Hostice behind Modwyn’s fallen tree. There, the healer quickly went to work, pulling arrows from the girl and chanting loudly in a foreign tongue. Her piteous screams filled the air of the clearing as each arrow was plucked from her.

Will arrived at the entrance of the fort and encountered a hulking Warrior. Caleb smirked and raised his long sword high above his head. Will jabbed at Caleb’s belly, feeling plates and mail give way to his blow. Caleb swore, his eyes rolling back. Blood spattered Will’s tunic. His sword was bloody as was the ground onto which Caleb collapsed. Two at a time, Will ran up the steps of the fortress. A Warrior archer spotted Will and alerted his comrade. The red fire in Will’s eye glinted, and he raised his sword to a ready position. Both archers dropped their bows and drew their weapons. A six-foot-five Warrior drew two wicked-looking daggers. His friend lifted a shield, slapping at the wood with his spiked mace.

Will relaxed his stance and laughed. The two Warriors looked at each other in confusion. In that brief moment, the laughter suddenly died as Will darted forward. Caught by surprise, the two Warriors jumped backwards, off balance.

Will slashed and sliced, ducked, parried, and dodged. Soon, the two Warriors lay groaning on the ground, battered but not bloodied.

Looking around, Will saw a green flag hanging limply on a post nearby. He grabbed it and jumped down the steps. Forcing himself to run faster, he pounded away from the fort towards the forest’s edge.

“Go, Will, go!” Will heard Modwyn shout.

Will jumped a fallen stump and crashed through the underbrush. Spiny twigs snatched at his tunic and scrapped his arms and legs. His legs burned with the exertion. He saw sunlight and the edge of the forest. An arrow whistled past his ear. Ignoring his increased heart rate and inability to breathe, Will ducked a low-hanging branch and put on another burst of speed. Bursting from a particularly thick patch of brambles, Will breached the barrier between the forest and the field. Several arrows now zipped by his head, some missing by mere inches.

A small battle raged outside of his base. Will ran right through the middle of it, hoping to deter the enemy archers from firing at him. Outside the log fortress, Art, Ogdin, Vivyan, and Boewdard were engaged in the small battle. In the fray, Will saw Vivyan fighting a huge boy. Will slammed the butt of the flagpole down on the back of the Warrior’s knee, sending him to the ground as his leg buckled. His heavy armor threw his weight off balance, and the Warrior crumpled beneath Vivyan’s next blow. Vivyan smiled at Will, her eyes glinting with pleasure.