Circle of Reign (30 page)

“Peace,” Aiden spoke softly. “Shane sought the death of our Lord. His intentions were known to me.”

“Master Aiden, I don’t under—” one of the guards began, but Aiden cut him off.

“The details are not important. Lord Therrium is safe with his family and the Archiver Mithi’ah, I having personally made the arrangements. They are sequestered among the far parts of the
hold in a servant’s chambers.” The men did not seem comforted by this, as servants’ chambers were not in the normal circulation of the guards’ routine.

“But Master Aiden, this would leave the Lord exposed. In such a lightly defended portion of the hold—”

“No one would ever suspect him to be there,” Aiden finished for the guard in a manner that said the discussion was over. “We will go and fetch him now, but say nothing along the way. You men are now his personal escort until he is safely—”

A loud, tremulous cacophony commanded their attention. All in the room turned their eyes toward the provenance of the sound. It faded, but was followed by another—the sound of terror-filled screams. Shouts of men, the music of steel in battle. Now it was Aiden’s turn for confusion, but stealing a glance at his men in Therrium’s chamber told him they had no explanation, nor did he expect them to. He sped from the room toward the sounds and cries, which came predominantly from the east wall of the hold. He broke into speed, faster than any human could travel and faster than most could follow with their eyes. A green field of grass and shrubbery separated the hold’s wall from the actual hold that by day was pleasant in all manners. Tonight, however, it was enshrouded by death and chaos.

Aiden stared slack-jawed at what was once the eastern wall, but was now no more than rubble masquerading as hindrances to the men at arms as they fought. Scores of men poured through the breeched wall in small garrisons of axes, swords and short archers. Someone had marshaled a small regime and come against the capital of the Western Province on the very night an assassination attempt had been made on Lord Therrium. And, this force had come largely undetected by the wood-dwellers until the attack was sprung. It was maddeningly perplexing how this could have happened. One side looked disorganized and dazed, the other group of soldiers deliberate and uniformed. It was the hold guard, the wood-dwellers, who were struggling in disorganization with this unknown foe.

Aiden came to himself at once, barking orders and commands to his men. He commanded easily three hundred of the hold guard, but this attacking force was thousands in strength. The armies of Therrium were scattered throughout the province, serving mostly as peacekeepers at various posts. Easily fifty thousand swords, axes, spears, and archers made up the Western Province’s force, but little good that did tonight.

Turning to Alrikk, Aiden snapped, “Send word by wing to General Roan at Riley’s Cove of our attack. Bid him return with a force of at least five thousand.” The boy was pale and looked like he wanted to say something. Aiden did not wait for Alrikk’s response but turned immediately back to the scene of carnage before him. He doubted their desperate message would be received in time. The attacking army was dressed all in black, from the hoods that concealed their faces to the boots upon their feet. Aiden let out a bellow of a cry calling his guards to formation. Never had they trained to face a force of strength of ten to one, but a quick scan of the situation allowed Aiden to guess within fifty men that those were their odds. A Lord’s Guard was trained expertly against small forces or single opponents, usually seeking to infiltrate a hold or assassinate some important noble or Lord; but fighting off or defending against an army was not part of their training nor expected of them.

Was the Realm under attack? From who? Aiden could not waste precious moments on these questions.

His men retreated to him in speed, answering his call. They were only about two-hundred and sixty now, but the dead of their enemy were at least five times their losses. As deft and quick as a wood-dweller may be, they are still mortal and can be overcome. The force that had come against them was strong and well trained, prepared for the difficulties of fighting against Arlethian Warriors a normal human would face. If they were prepared, then this enemy was familiar with wood-dwellers. That only left a couple possibilities as to their origin.

The withdrawal of Therrium’s guards from the fray caused a brief lull in the battle.

“Drake, Ebry, your detachments fall back on the right three paces behind my position, two lines deep and staggered. Shoren, bring your detachment on my left, two paces forward of myself. When they rush your side, retreat back and right as Drake and Ebry swing forward and left to flank their forward attack, then cease your retreat and press into the fray. We will create an uneven arm that pivots as if on a single joint. Both sides will swivel opposite each other, never allowing the enemy to get behind us and always causing them to be flanked as they press. We cannot attack directly, but we can determine where they focus theirs and minimize losses.”

As he spoke, it was done. It was a subordinate defensive position, Aiden knew, but was the best chance they had to survive long enough to shave down the size of the attacking force to where they could feasibly press an attack or for General Roan’s forces to arrive. If they survived long enough to make the odds three or even four to one, the battle would easily turn their way.

The army of black attacked with a wicked cry. As Aiden knew would happen, they ran straight to the side of the arm that stood protruding to his left. Shoren’s detachment did not stand against them, but retreated swiftly as planned, seeming to swing Drake and Ebry’s detachments up and to the left with inhuman speed into the flank of the black army. Being vastly outnumbered did not stop the small force of Therrium’s guards from felling their enemies with minimal losses. Shoren’s detachment now pressed back, surprising the overconfident point of the black army even as Drake and Ebry worked death upon the mysterious attackers. For every wood-dweller that fell, no less than three of the black army were taken with them. But this was not enough. If this were to be a battle of attrition, Aiden’s men would not survive. They would have to attack after all, relying on speed and confusion.

Aiden yelled for a sprint across the top of the army, using the heads and shoulders of their enemies as their stepping stones, cutting them down from above as they went. Side to side they ran, as if in flight five to six feet in the air. The dexterity and agility of the Arlethian guards was awe-inspiring and the army of black
was decreased as the battle become more intense. Short archers caught on to the strategy and unleashed their wooden missiles just above the height of a man, catching scores of Aiden’s men and bringing them down. Ebry took an arrow in the left thigh, causing him to stumble into the masses of soldiers who cut him down. Others began to fall and Aiden started to feel fear overcome his rationale. He had less than one hundred men now while the army of black still had close to a thousand.
Focus
, he reminded himself.
Think of nothing but this moment
.

The night air was littered with arrows as the short archers loosed missile after missile. His men had dwindled to several dozen. Aiden heard every loosed arrow as it sprang from the taught bowstring, the fletchings whistling through the air. He knew the archers were firing blindly, but it was proving effective. Coming down from his unnatural flight across the heads and shoulders of his enemies, Aiden splashed in a puddle of water, blood and carnage, now surrounded by the soldiers in black on all sides. No longer could he feel his men in the battle.

He smiled, and wondered if it had taken this many to bring down Thannuel Kerr.
Twice as many, no doubt
, Aiden mused to himself. He was relieved in a way, knowing that he would soon rest, having given his life in the execution of his duty, as he felt he should have those many years ago. Perhaps there would be something more after this world as Kerr had always promised there would be. He was so sure, so certain, always. Aiden was only certain of his next moments.

His head was bowed slightly, but his eyes looked up and forward into the sea of malicious black. Aiden could feel the battle around him as only an Arlethian could. He felt the clash of steel and wood, the slashing of flesh and bones breaking as they gave way under strong blows, the wind parting from the fletching of the arrows that disrupted the night air. His medium length black hair shimmered in the moonlight, the wind parting the hair from his face and revealing to those around him a most out of place grin. Aiden looked as if he had legions backing him, as if he pitied the
hundreds that stood to press down against him. This caused those immediately around him to pause momentarily in some confusion. Perhaps they wondered what Aiden knew that they did not, but it was nothing so mysterious as this. Aiden was a man who had nothing to lose, a man who did not expect to live to see morning’s light. It was the look of one who had dealt out much death and knew it had finally come for him. This acceptance shone in his countenance, frightening the soldiers who had come with such force into Hold Therrium, into the hold he had sworn to protect with his life’s blood.

Aiden glanced down at his sword and the curious thought occurred to him that never, for the past six years, had it been more than an arm’s reach from him. Its steel was blackened from the Jarwynian ore and forging process that gave it unnatural lightweight, strength, and flexibility. Worth a small fortune in krenshell, it was all Aiden had left of his mentor, whom he would soon join.

“Be with me,” he whispered.

Aiden moved in what was a blur to the soldiers in black. His steel found flesh underneath black cloak and uniform with every stroke and swing as it hummed its discordant but beautiful song in the chaotic night. One enemy soldier in black after the other fell until Aiden no longer had conscious thought of his actions, letting his mind and body take over. As one soldier came to where he should have been, Aiden attacked from behind. He was, in this moment, a force that could not be comprehended by those around him. He moved with speed and strength beyond his own.
One stroke to slay one man
.

A large soldier bellowed forward with a dual sided battle-axe, swinging with intent to relieve Aiden of his head. He ducked instinctually, feeling the breeze of the axe just above him as it missed his head and lodged into another man’s chest. Now kneeling, he locked his arms with his sword in an upward angle and lunged to his feet, forcing his blade through the man. Ripping his sword free in the next instant, Aiden swiped it through the air in a wide arc, catching three men in the throat. Most blows
missed, but the few that were a threat to him were parried easily and met with deadly reprisal. Already a score of men lay dead or dying in his wake. Aiden was relentless, merciless. Before long, the archers were compelled to loose into the mass, taking losses of their own men as acceptable if it resulted in bringing down this last of Therrium’s guard. Vibrations from the bowstrings announced their newest volley, and Aiden knew at once the arrows’ vector, speed, and destination. He spun and ducked, using man after man as a shield from the deadly arrows, not realizing that his abilities to sense and feel were now at a level well beyond even the most skilled wood-dweller. The ground began to clear before him.

Steel bit into his thigh, but he continued unfazed, laying waste to all those around him. No other thought save for the cutting down of the next man occupied his mind. He wore a predatory smile as his vision turned a shade of crimson.

Reign left Hedron at the Silver Pools three days earlier. He was intent on going south again to see Kathryn. Reign had wanted to argue with him once more but had seen little point. The light in his eyes when he spoke of Kathryn was impossible to ignore.

Stupid boy’s just setting himself up a huge heartbreak
.

Reign wanted Hedron’s happiness, even if it meant having that prissy little blonde as a sister-in-law; but she did not think it was even possible for Hedron to marry the young Hoyt girl.

Would he lie about his name? His identity?

The Kerr twins had done this before for their safety, but Reign sensed a streak of family loyalty that ran deep in Hedron, despite his internal conflict about their father.

Heading north to the Gonfrey Forest would bring her near Calyn. It wasn’t the most direct route from the Silver Pools, but she preferred to travel within the forests of the West when she could. Still, she would stay to the outer reaches of the city, avoiding the chance of conjuring up too many childhood memories.

The early morning, just before dawn, was always so peaceful in the forest. She loved the smell of dew in the air just before sunrise and the fullness of life.

Crimson Snow would be a bit older in years now, and she wondered how many years the white wolf had left in this world. He had already outlived many of his siblings, being thirteen years old now.

Suddenly, Reign felt the beat of hundreds of feet upon the ground. Not wood-dwellers. It was just barely audible, coming into her sensory range through the ground a few steps ago. A small birch tree was next to her and she wondered if it would be enough.