The New Guard (Crossroads Book 1) (24 page)

The news
of Brother Brogene’s death was known to all, as well as the details of where his
body and head were found. The councilors had already spent the first part of
the day speculating and plotting, so now they merely waited for the king to
arrive at the council tent. Save Brother Brogene, not a single council member
was missing. They were all present when the king arrived and did not see the
extra guards surround the tent. However, they did notice the larger royal
guard. Each guard stationed himself at a cardinal point within the tent. Hogan
placed himself in easy view of the Koens.

The king
moved to his dais and sat before his desk. The council members and Koens then
took their seats. No one spoke or moved for nearly two minutes before Count
Merrin stood.

“The
crown recognizes Count Merrin,” the king droned.

Merrin
bowed and quietly asked, “How do you wish us to proceed, sire?”

The king
stood as Count Merrin quickly took his seat. Lord Avrant surveyed the room
before he spoke, royal disdain dripping from his voice. “It was no secret that
Brother Brogene was a staunch supporter of the crown and spoke quite vocally
against the insidious corruption taking hold upon our fair kingdom. His death
was clearly meant to silence such opposition and as a threat against the
crown.”

As
murmurs began to rise, the king motioned for continued silence. He went on when
his wish was granted. “I find our lack of progress and the continued violence
within my lands disturbing. In addition, the council has chosen to come to
these procedures with private armies in tow, not loyal to the crown.”

No one
dared speak, though several councilors fidgeted and were ready to jump up with
words barely contained. The king looked at them all before he continued. “This
council was formed by my ancestor in hopes of creating a body of peoples that
would speak for the different regions from which they came. Furthermore, those
that came before me granted minor nobility upon long standing members of the
council and bestowed them stewardship of their lands. Over the last two
generations, these titles have been passed down from parent to child. During
the last generation my father chose not to waste his time with council; the
system eroded and became bogged down with regents and proxies. It took the
intervention of the Truth Blade for me to see the errors of my predecessors.”

The king
turned to David and motioned for him to rise. Once he stood the king asked,
“Were those words truthful?”

David was
not certain what was happening, but answered the only way he could, “Yes, Lord
Avrant, your words hold truth.”

“You
see,” the king said turning back to the council. “I have given you a true
history of the council. Now, I will add the final part. As of today, all titles
of nobility are hereby revoked by the crown, and this useless council is
dissolved. Civil order will be restored and each of you will face the crown’s
justice.”

The
council tent ripped in several places and guards entered from every side. The
royal guard, except Hogan, all drew their swords. Everyone stood and shouting
filled the tent.

“Lord
Avrant!” both David and Hogan shouted desperately. The king turned to them. A
darkness dwelled within his eyes, and when he spoke it laced his words.

“The
council serves at the king’s privilege and I don’t see the need for it any
longer. Truth Blade, you know the truth of this.” Without waiting for a
response from David, Avrant turned his full attention to Hogan. “Come, cousin;
your family and your king ask for your sword.”

Suddenly,
a messenger entered the tent and signaled the king. The king smiled broadly and
bellowed above the crowd. “Silence, or you will face instant death instead of a
court!”

Slowly
the councilors fell mute, though a distant disturbance prevented total silence.
Theatrically, the king cupped a hand around one of his ears before speaking
again.

“Ah,
there it is. Order is being reestablished as we meet. By now the treacherous
military forces brought to my doorstep are being engaged by an army of soldiers
loyal to myself and several of my family from nearby kingdoms. Soon all
disruptive forces within this kingdom will be dealt with using extreme
prejudice.”

At these
last words the king turned back to David and smiled wickedly. “Guards,” he
called, “kill any who resist arrest.”

With a
fluid motion a long thin knife appeared in the king’s hand and was thrown
toward Mel. David pushed his son aside and reached for his sword. Before he
could act further, another blade flashed in front of him and deflected the
knife. Hogan stood pale and panting, his eyes locked on his cousin’s. Lord
Avrant sneered, then spat at Hogan.

“Useless,
muling whelp,” he cursed as he pulled a cylinder from his robes. At the tip sat
half a dozen barbs on a small ball. The king pushed a button near his thumb and
small arcs of electricity danced between the barbs. David had his sword out
now, and Deborah was pulling a staff from under the railing of the banister in
front of her. Hogan eyed his cousin, then without breaking eye contact
unsheathed and passed back his second sword to Mel. The king’s complexion
darkened and he let out a small snarl. Hogan maintained eye contact and spoke
softly to Avrant.

“Avrant,
you need to take a moment to think. Your weapon has maybe four minutes of
charge or two good pulses. While it will still act as a good club after it is
discharged, you have to know you face at least moderately skilled fighters.
When was the last time you trained in armed combat? I know it wasn’t in the
last five to eight years. The Koens have been practicing daily, and your guards
are otherwise engaged with holding this tent in order. Let’s stop this before
it goes any further. Let’s get out of here before something fatal happens.”

The king
snarled once more, but didn’t move. Then his appearance got eerily calm and he
smiled once more. When he spoke it was with a self-assured air. “I don’t have
to do anything; just wait. A fourth force is no doubt already taking care of
the problem guests at Way House.”

David
gripped his sword tightly and gritted his teeth. He spoke in quick bursts
between his clenched teeth. “Hogan, see to Deb. Mel, on my left. Time to go.”

They began
backing out. While Avrant and the others were preoccupied at the front of the
tent, the guards had quickly worked at subduing and binding the council. Thus,
neither the guards nor councilors were paying attention to the proceedings at
the front of the tent. David’s group was near the main opening when a captive
councilor looked up and finally caught on to what else was happening.
Desperately he shouted to his fellows.

“Avrant
is trying to kill off the new twelve!”

The king
turned like a serpent, and a pulse of lightning shot out and impaled the
hapless councilor. Then without missing a beat he turned back to the Koens, who
were trying to take advantage of the king’s inattention. Avrant snarled and
shot a bolt of electricity at Mel, who crumbled to the ground when it hit him.
Seeing this, David roared.

“Hogan,
get Deb out of here!” he shouted as he leapt forward and hit the king with the
flat part of the Sword of Truth. David’s rage brought to bear great force, and
the blade hit the king’s temple with a resounding smack. Avrant crumbled. David
dove over to Mel and saw a scorch mark on his right shoulder. He quickly felt
the wound with a hand and searched for a pulse with the other. Finding a faint
pulse and only charred skin, David let out a grateful prayer. As he began to
sit up he felt a blade poke his back. He turned his head to see one of the
guards standing there. Another was seeing to the king.

“Sir,”
the guard said, “you will surrender.”

In a blur
of motion, David rolled to the side and grabbed the Sword of Truth. He stood in
a crouch and twisted his arm and slashed backwards. The guard had little time
to react and started lunging by the time David struck. David’s sword sliced
across the guard’s right arm. The man screamed, dropped his sword, and clutched
his arm to him. By the time the guard seeing to the king registered that
something was happening, David was beside him with his sword at the ready.

“My son
is alive; Avrant is still alive. Let’s all count our blessings and stand down.”
The guard backed up, hands away from his sword. “Avrant, former king of the
Seventh realm, has known for some time that a new twelve has been brought
forth. He acted out of desperation and blindness. The lure of power has
overtaken him and he could not see giving it up even in the face of God’s
will.”

Before
David could say more the guard he had cut fell to his knees crying. “Can’t you
feel the truth.
Ahhh
, the truth burns through me!”

David turned
to the guard and spoke softly. “Yes, I’m sorry; the truth can be painful. We
will get someone here to tend to your wounds.”

“Sword
Bearer,” a smallish elf stepped forward. His uniform looked well-worn and his
features spoke of many days spent outside. “I’m from Yero’s band, sir. I can
run and get a healer.”

David
nodded and the man ran out of the tent. The guard who had been attending the
king spoke up. “What do you plan on doing now, Truth Blade? Are you going to
take the mantle of king?”

“No, that
is not my place. . .”

“His
children are the new twelve,” the wounded guard spoke in a haunted voice. “They
will rule. A Truth Blade denies the throne.”

David
nodded once more and pointed to the wounded guard. “There is the reason why.
What king should ever wield the power to impose truth upon every soul? God
calls us to His truth, He does not seek slaves, only free men. The Void sells
the truth as harsh and it can be, but more so it is liberating from the
darkness and confusion of this broken creation. The Sword of Truth rips back
the veil, revealing the overpowering light of the Word. It takes a long time to
recover from that.”

“What is
going to happen now, though?”

David
looked over to the other guard, his wounded son, the unconscious Avrant and the
still bound council members. Every eye now became focused on David. The sound
of battle continued outside and David sighed heavily.

“Unfortunately,”
he said gravely, “we wait here.”

As soon
as David had yelled, “Hogan, get Deb out of here!” there was no hesitation.
Hogan knew both he and Deborah could have helped, though he didn't know what
else his cousin had planned. Hogan suspected more, and then thought of the
smallest children in Way House. His and Deborah’s skills would be of better use
there.

Hogan
grabbed Deborah around the waist with one arm and pulled her toward the main
tent entrance. Deborah was staring at her brother's still form, looking
frantically for signs of life. She struggled against Hogan’s efforts, but was
brought up short when he hissed in her ear.

“Your
other brothers and sisters!”

She
nearly cried out as the image of Mel was replaced with that of Mary, Jeremiah,
Dinah and the others. She blindly ran with Hogan as he led her toward the
castle. They would not reach this destination though. As they passed an old oak
an inky darkness shot out and wrapped around them. A current of electricity
pulsed through the tendrils as they continued to wind around Hogan’s and
Deborah’s legs, hips, and arms.

Both
Hogan and Deborah fell to the ground, barely conscious. A tall slender elf
stepped from the shadows of the oak. Deborah didn’t know this creature was not
an elf; rather, it was a demon. She didn’t know that, though she did know that
she and Hogan were trapped. Another energy pulse surged through the creature as
ropy strands crept into their mouths.

The
Beagle stood, its hackles raised. An extremely un-hound-like growl issued from
its throat. Everybody, even those not in the same room, became instantly alert
and grabbed up nearby weapons. First Thunder held tightly to a massive axe and
stepped over to the snarling angel.

“What is
it?” he asked thankful that he was not on the receiving end of the angel’s ire.
“What do you sense?”

“Deborah,”
the Beagle growled, “and a demon.”

Before
anything else could be said, a flaming keg smashed through the main doorway.
Burning liquid washed over the floor, causing the Beagle, First Thunder, and
the others in the room to jump back. Eve stood with the younger children on the
stairs. Nic came running into the room with Fleet of Foot and Silas.

“They’re
at the back door,” Fleet of Foot started, but stopped short when he surveyed
the fire taking hold in the room. Suddenly, smaller flaming objects broke
through several of the windows. The flames were catching quickly and were
beginning to eat away the walls.

First
Thunder sneered, “They want us to try to go out the back where the way is only
big enough for one at a time.”

Rock
grunted, “They mean to slaughter us.”

The eldest
clan brother gripped his axe and leaned toward the back door, “We’ll give them
more than they bargained for.”

Just then
a strong wind rushed down the stairs and through the main room. The wind pushed
at the flames and blasted a broad path to the ruined double doors. No sooner
had the wind dispersed than the flames began licking back to the territory it
lost.

“Or we
could go quickly out the front,” the Beagle said after shooting a quick look at
the children who had been pushed against the wall by the gust.

“Everybody
move now!” boomed First Thunder. No one wasted time in complaining or debating.
The older children took charge of the smaller children while the Coterie
brothers took the fore.

The
thralls at the front of the house were blown back by the wind, and stinging
pieces of smoldering wood pelted them. As they were recovering, Rock, First
Thunder, and Fleet of Foot strode into their midst. The three brothers harried
the demon slaves to clear a path for the Koens and the Beagle, who had taken up
the position of rear guard. Just as the children cleared the throng of
fighters, the thralls gained their composure and surged forward. The Coterie
brothers tightened their formation.

“Keep
everybody moving. Head for the council tent,” the Beagle instructed as it
backpedaled to join the clan brothers.

An arrow
shot from off of the side of the house. It sped fast and true and struck
Jeremiah in the right shoulder. The boy went spinning from the impact. Nic was
by him before he hit the ground. He quickly scooped his younger brother in his
arms. Nic looked back at where the arrow hand come from and saw three, now
four, now seven Dark Riders bearing down on them.

With a
shout of frustration Nic sped forward. He caught up to the other children and
began bellowing orders. “Eve, Silas, move them away from the castle, We’ve been
betrayed here. We need to find shelter.”

Eve
looked back, saw the Dark Riders, and cursed. Then with Silas she began heading
their siblings toward the main gate. The Riders were closing the distance,
however, and the children didn’t have a chance to make it that far. Quickly
assessing their chances Nic stopped running, set Jeremiah down, and drew his
sword. The Riders headed right for him.

Caliban
closed the distance fastest and began to trade sword blows with Nic. Then Vex
arrived. Gall added his sword to the fray. The three Riders worked in tandem
raining blows down upon Nic, yet the boy parried all three. Grim determination
was painted on Nic’s face, but he was not as experienced as three mounted
veterans. Then there was the fourth Rider prancing around, trying to find an
opening to add his sword to the fray. The other Riders too spread out;
Ferreter, seeing the downed Jeremiah, edged his horse around the battle, trying
to get to him.

When the
Riders had chosen not to follow Nic’s siblings, they made a calculated error.
They had not figured on the Coterie brothers at their back. For the fourth
Rider this error quickly became a fatal one. Fleet of Foot jumped out of
nowhere on to the back of the Rider’s horse. In a flash, two short swords were
protruding from the Rider’s chest. Fleet of Foot pulled his swords free and
pushed the body into Gall. Gall, seeking to dodge the corpse, swung wide the
blow he was aiming at Nic. Nic ducked closer to Gall’s horse, missing twin
strikes from Caliban and Vex. Nic pulled a long dagger from a leg holster and
planted it into Gall’s exposed leg. Gall and his horse screamed as the blade
punctured them both.

Gall’s
horse reared and spooked the other horses. Caliban and Vex fought their horses
and dropped their guards. Nic pushed the advantage and cut the horse from under
Vex. Vex had to jump off to avoid being crushed by the falling stallion. Before
Caliban had fully recovered, Nic sheathed his sword, grabbed Jeremiah who was
doing his best to crawl away from the battle, and beat a retreat.

As Nic
was taking advantage of the opening Fleet of Foot had given him. The Coterie
man himself was engaging the remaining Riders. Fleet of Foot had seen
Ferreter’s intended target and redirected the horse he was on to block the Dark
Rider. The other Riders quickly swarmed upon him. Fleet of Foot jumped off the
horse and moved amongst the Riders like a squirrel. He was a blur of motion. At
this speed he could only land glancing blows. His actions proved a long enough
distraction nonetheless. By the time Nic was retreating once more, First
Thunder was adding his axe to the battle.

The
massive dual bladed weapon hewed through the air and embedded itself in the
back of an unsuspecting Rider. The man’s spine shattered and he fell loosely
off his horse. First Thunder was upon the man and pulled his axe free. He then
plunged himself into the melee.

Seeing
the changing battle conditions,
Vex
backed away from
the main group. He then noticed Nic escaping, now close to the castle gates.
Vex turned his focus back to the battle and focused upon the rapidly shifting
Fleet of Foot. Concentrating hard, the Rider breathed a dark curse. Though
there was little power behind it, as it was midday, the curse slammed into
Fleet of Foot and knocked him unconscious.

Out of
the corner of his eye Vex saw First Thunder charging. Still recovering from
casting the curse, he dodged clumsily as the warrior’s axe came at him. The axe
missed cleaving Vex from top to bottom, but it did slice quickly through his
right arm. Vex howled and placed his hand over the severed flesh. As he rolled
away, smoke rose from the wound.

With
Fleet of Foot down and First Thunder occupied trying to hack Vex apart, Caliban
took a moment to assess the situation and realized his mistake. He had to act
quickly to correct it. He pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow. The arrow
flew swiftly and lodged into First Thunder’s right thigh. A second arrow
quickly followed, this one finding its mark in the Coterie’s right shoulder.

“Riders,
to me!” Caliban shouted, loading a third arrow.

The
Riders answered Caliban’s rally cry, and soon First Thunder was facing off with
four mounted Riders and Vex, his arm socket still smoldering. First Thunder
grinned drunkenly and laughed. He hefted his axe in his good arm and took a
step forward. He was focused on the mounted Riders and started a charge. He
took only one more step. Suddenly, two knives were protruding from his throat.
Vex started laughing wickedly as First Thunder fell face down. A rasp escaped
his lips and then his life was ended. Caliban looked over at Vex and nodded his
approval.

Fleet of
Foot was left behind. None of the Riders bothered to check if he was dead or
alive. Caliban ordered a fast pursuit. Vex was pulled up onto Maraud’s horse,
as Gall’s could barely carry him. Caliban spoke with urgency as they made their
way to the castle gates.

“This is
the only chance the Dark One has given anyone to slay these pests. Personally,
I’d like to kill as many as possible before the day is done.”

The
Riders all agreed. Ferreter took a moment to ride next to Vex and burn his
wound with Hell Fire to finish cauterizing it. He then moved to the head of the
group and started picking out the children’s path. As they thundered out of the
gate, Ferreter swung his horse around in circles. It took him a moment to find
the trail, which proved easy to follow as the wounded Koen was dripping blood.

The path
led away from the castle and down a slope to a rocky stream. Across the stream
was a small thicket of trees and large boulders. Caliban spat and jumped off
his horse. The children went to ground where the horses could not easily
follow. He started shouting orders.

“Gall,
circle around this mess and keep an eye out for the whelps. Vex, stay here and
watch for their return. Ferreter, Maraud, come with me and let’s flush them
out.”

The three
Riders entered the rocky stand of trees and found a great deal of hiding
places. Ferreter became frustrated as he realized the children had been all
over the place in their flight through here. Getting angrier by the moment, the
Riders began to quickly scout each one for any sign of the children.

Deeper into
the maze of trees and rocks, Nic leaned over Jeremiah while Eve and Silas
guarded both ways into the crevasse in which they were hiding. Nic saw that the
arrow had almost punched all the way through the younger boy’s shoulder and
decided to push it all the way, snap the arrow, and remove the two halves.
Jeremiah was somewhat conscious and was protesting.

“Stop
Jeremy,” Nis said in a hushed shout. “Trust me, I don’t think we should keep
that thing in you.”

“No,”
Jeremiah said breathlessly, pain pulsing with every beat of his heart. “I think
just the opposite. We should bandage it and stabilize it.”

“Stop
with your book knowledge; this is a real battle.”

Nic put
his hand over Jeremiah’s mouth and
and
pushed at the
arrow with his other hand. Jeremiah bit Nic’s hand, but the older boy didn’t
remove it until he was sure Jeremiah wouldn’t scream.

“Where
does your vaunted knowledge come from?” Jeremiah asked, sobbing.

Nic broke
the arrow and swiftly removed the pieces. Jeremiah whimpered, but resisted
screaming. Nic then pressed his hands on either side of the wound. He leaned
close to Jeremiah’s face and whispered matter of factly, “I saw it in a movie.”

Esther
came over with a small bundle of cloth she had ripped from the hems of each of
the girl’s dresses, having followed Nic’s earlier order. Before Nic could tell
her what he needed her to do, Jeremiah cried out in pain.

“Nic, it
burns!”

Nic
suddenly felt faint and pulled his hands away. Esther, tears welling up in her
eyes looked down at Jeremiah and gasped. There on his exposed shoulder, was
Nic’s handprint, but no wound. Esther wiped away her unshed tears and looked
closer. The handprint began to fade and fresh skin was left in its wake.

“Nic,”
Esther breathed frightened, but got no further as Eve ran over hissing for
everybody to shut up. In the silence that followed, the children heard somebody
approaching fast.