The Willbreaker (Book 1) (18 page)

She dragged the elementalist with her by the elbow, as a mother would do to a misbehaving child. She walked over to the box, and with her right hand, tipped the lid of the box open. Inside, a red satin cloth wrapped around something the size of an egg. She picked up the object as the flow of power pulsed like lightning through her veins. The feeling entranced her; she did not realize she released the elementalist in order to hold the object in both of her hands. She closed her eyes as ice cold waves of energy pounded her soul. Unbeknownst to her, the elementalist took the opportunity of freedom and quickly escaped out of the vault door. Victoria heard men shouting outside. With the item in her hands, still wrapped in the cloth, she walked out of the vault.

Forty armed guards waited for her, crossbows and arrows knocked and pointing at her. A line of swordsmen stood ready behind the archers. The guard at the helm had previously shot at her after eating his apple.

“You aren’t going anywhere, miss. You have caused enough damage. I am afraid this is the end for you,” he said. As he finished, she felt the tension of the archers as they prepared their volley. Even though they vastly outnumbered her and she knew they would not let her leave here with the stolen artifact, Victoria remained calm. She looked down into her cupped hands. Slowly, she looked up at them.

Victoria felt the power as she never had. Before, the coolness and ice-cold waves crashed upon her from a lake of power; but she now drowned in an ocean of it. She met the eyes of the oncoming threat and released the tsunami of power brought to life by the small object in her hand. All of the forty knights in the room collapsed into lifeless piles, as did the other four hundred people that filled the castle and courtyard. All became quiet. Victoria walked out of the gates unbothered.

              Lord Cedric Reinhold and his army of fifteen thousand crossed the border and traveled through Footman’s Hold to the east outskirts of Orlimay, the capital city of Aurora’s Cloudkeep Kingdom. As he expected, the camp had been overturned and torched. The Flame Legion burned everything, turning the camp and vegetation to blackened dust. Bodies of the fallen made boney graves of ash in heaps around the camp. Pikes dug into the ground held the rotted heads of Cedric’s men, spaced around the outside of the camp, as grotesque trophies of the battle here.

A troop of Reinhold’s men created Footman’s Hold ten years prior. They needed a place to rest off the main travel roads of the marching armies coming from Orlimay. They set station at the base of the mountains and have used it ever since. Once discovered, Aurora’s troops made regular, yet random, stops to the camp to ensure its emptiness.  Even with the risk, Reinhold’s men continued use of the camp because of the location, safety from the elements, and access to food and water.

Cedric had no time to worry about Footman’s Hold. He waited behind the tree line outside of Orlimay, with his army of loyal soldiers scattered behind him. He stood tall with his fists on his hips, head held high, staring in silence at the magnificent city that stretched up like artwork before him. The sight pleased his eyes; white marble buildings with conical golden rooftops, and fluid architecture that seemed to bend and flow in compliment with streets and walls surrounding the city.

The city sat on a large circular disk made from the same marble as the buildings. Spaced around the capital, large white bridges extended from the city like spider legs over the clear blue water that surrounded it. It resembled a moat around a castle, but far more visually appealing. Even though Cedric disagreed with Aurora’s morals and actions, he had respect for her attention to detail and eye for splendor.

Lord Reinhold planned and thought through all of his actions. He acted and commanded his kingdom in the most efficient manner possible. He executed decisions based on the strategic advantages attained from them. He always kept thought on the larger picture.

As Cedric watched over the regal city in front of him, a messenger ran up behind him and dropped to a knee. Lord Reinhold did not move.

“Lord Reinhold, word from the camps,” he said quickly.

“Yes? Report.”

“Sir, we have spotted two scouts outside the perimeter of our camp. The Ice Lancers have killed one and are hunting down the other.”

Cedric continued his calm breathing, still looking forward.

“Do not pursue the other scout. I am afraid they already know we are here. Gather my commanders. We will meet in my tent in five minutes. Make haste.”

The messenger gave a quick nod and sprinted back towards where he came. Even though Cedric could not make the actions of those on the edge of the city, he knew they prepared for war. After a moment of silence, he turned and headed into camp.

The men of his camp moved with a sense of urgency; horsemen strapped armor on their mounts, footmen readied their spears, and the archers stretched their bowstrings. As he walked by the men, he quickly spoke to each in passing, giving words of encouragement or saying, “God bless, and good luck today." He made eye contact with every man that looked at him, and with a nod or a smile, relayed his confidence to them. He walked with shoulders back, chin held high, and nothing but a look of strength across his face. Within minutes, he had arrived at his tent.

A small table sat in the center of the tent. Maps and parchment were sprawled across it in a seemingly unorganized fashion. Around the table, his officers stood at attention: Charlotte Firefist, Janga Blackhand, and Arkam Icebreath.

Charlotte, Reinhold’s Voice of the Gifted in the Council of the Red Lion, had long, curly red hair and deep hazel eyes. Her light skin seemed ageless and gave her a pleasing appeal. She wore a deep blue robe that had wrist cuffs and a neckline accented in silver cord, which matched the belt loosely hanging around her waist.

“Milord, my element benders are ready for service. We stand eighty eight strong and await your command,” she said with strength.

“Sire,” Janga said, acknowledging Cedric with a small head nod. “Our troops are keeping low as you requested. We are armed and ready." Janga’s size made him an intimidating man. His braided black hair hung past his shoulders, and black scruff flowed along his solid and hard chiseled jaw line. He wore a thick steel chest plate, with two fighting lions pressed into the front, and the large spaulder that protected his right shoulder bore a solid spike from its center. The look of experience covered his dark brown eyes.

The first thing one would notice when looking at Arkam Icebreath would be his crystal blue eyes. They gave striking accent to his soft skin tone and his light blond hair. The eyes were a side effect of the Ice Lancers magic; they all had them. He had an average build and height. He spread his legs shoulder length apart and gripped his hands behind his back. He did not say a word as Cedric entered; instead, he gave him an obedient nod.

Cedric’s shoulders rose as he put his weight on his hands, now on the table as he looked at the map across its top. “All right, things need to move faster than I anticipated. I’m afraid they are aware of our presence. We have two main objectives today: retrieve the Beacon and capture the Boatman. Arkam, it will be your main responsibility to bring us the Beacon. Charlotte, it will be up to us to draw out the Boatman, and Janga, you will need to ensure me that once we have completed our two main objectives that we make it out of here alive, understood?”

The three nodded as Cedric continued. “Arkam, how are the Ice Lancers?”

“Ready to serve, Sire.”

              “I need you to get inside of the city unnoticed. We will give you the diversion you need to enter from the west side. We will be pushing our forces here,” he said as he pushed his finger down on the map at the east entrance of the city. “Their defenses will still be strong around the entire perimeter but I have faith you will find a way." Arkam gave another nod. “I don’t know where the Beacon will be, but you will. As you approach the city, your sensing ability will no longer detect anything but her. You must find her as soon as possible and get her out of the city alive.”

              Arkam tilted his head, looking confused. “Sire, I was under the impression that the Beacon was an item of some kind, perhaps a gem or a magical box?”

“No, The Beacon is a young girl; a Preclass. Her gift scrambles a Sensor’s ability to sense anything but her, which is why Aurora keeps her here in Orlimay. It is a passive ability; she cannot shut it off. What good would a Sensor be if they can’t sense anything?” Cedric said, with a cunning
smile on his face. “Charlotte, we will make the first advancement; me, you, and the element benders at the east entrance of the city." Janga hit the bottom of his fist down on the table.

“Cedric, you aren’t going to lead this battle. We cannot afford to have anything happen to you!”

Cedric interrupted him. “I would never expect my people to risk anything that I myself would not be willing to risk. They will be risking their lives to fight for what we believe in. What sort of ruler would I be if I did not do the same? I will not stand idly by and watch my people die as I sit back in safety. This conversation is over; I will be at the forefront of this battle. If you do not like it, then make sure we make it out alive.”

He continued. “I imagine that their first defense will be volleying arrows: easily overcome by the air benders. As you may have noticed, there are bridges that lead over the water surrounding the capital. Defense towers sit behind these bridges. After we have moved in close enough, have the air benders crush the towers. We will combat their ground troops with the water benders. Can I have faith our elementalists can fight the uneven odds?” he asked, looking at Charlotte.

She smiled, “Of course, we look forward to it.”

“Good. That is what I wanted to hear. Now, keep in mind that not everyone in the city is our enemy. I do not want innocent civilians or bystanders killed. Let us do the right thing and let those alone who wish nothing of this war. We are not here to kill those who do not wish to harm us." Lord Reinhold paused for a brief second. “With that noted, we also need to burn as much of the city entrance as possible. This is going to be difficult considering its creators constructed the city out of marble. We need to bring the heat; it will be the only way we can draw out the Boatman.”

Janga spoke up. “Who is this Boatman?”

“The Boatman is the second Preclass that resides here in Orlimay. His gift is an odd and specialized one; it negates and eliminates flame. I’m not aware of his range or how it works, but my contacts inside the city have informed me that he is being held prisoner here. I am placing my hopes that they will bring him out if the city starts to burn.”

“Don’t worry, my fire benders are some of the most talented users I have seen in many years. They will make your fire. They will bring out your Boatman,” Charlotte said confidently.

“What are the bender numbers?” Cedric asked.

“Out of the eighty eight users, we have eight fire benders, ten earth, thirty-six air, and fourteen water,” she replied without hesitation.

“Will that be enough?” he asked.

“It will have to be. I have faith in my students. They are here because what you fight for is right. They don’t fight because they are forced to. They fight because they believe in you, as we do, Cedric,” she said, looking into his eyes with assurance. Both Janga and Arkam spoke in agreement.

Lord Reinhold continued. “From the looks of it, most of the housing units are not near the city perimeter. Janga, are the arrows still soaking in lamp oil as I asked?”

“Yes Cedric, but the oil is going to make it difficult for my archers to shoot them accurately. As long as you are aware of that, we will do as you command.”

“I appreciate your service, Janga, but your archers will not be shooting the arrows. After we have smashed the towers and fended off the first wave of their ground troops, I need your men to bring the arrows to the front line. Make sure they have their lighting sticks ready. Place them in piles in front of the air benders; tips facing the city. Once lit, the benders will use their gift to launch the arrows. It will not be as accurate, but we are not going for accuracy. This will be to help the fire benders; the more fire that we stir up, the better. At this point, Janga, I need you to move our ground troops onto the battlefield. Have them at attention, ready to move on my order. They are not to move until I give the command. I am hoping that we will be able to move out before we need to use the infantry; too many lives at risk.”

Lord Reinhold stepped away from the table and moved over to a large wooden chest that sat along the back edge of the tent. The chest looked old; blackened and smooth hardwood held together with aged iron hinges. Cedric spoke as he opened the chest. “This is
our
time. We are fighting for the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. We are fighting because Aurora Arclight is a tyrant and a dictator."

He spoke, never taking his eyes off of his task. As he opened the chest, he reached his left hand deep inside and pulled out a long and straight item, covered by a loosely hanging silk sheet. As he pulled it free from the chest, Charlotte took a breath of surprise as she whispered to herself, “The Heart . . .”

Reinhold brought the item over to the table and unwrapped it. Anticipation and anxiousness struck the other two men’s faces, but Cedric remained calm. “We cannot give this fight over to Aurora. People here are fighting for their freedom. They are fighting so they may live their lives peacefully and raise their children, free from the oppression and domination of a woman gone mad." The cloth fell back from the ancient sword hidden beneath it as Reinhold moved his hand towards the sword’s burnished silver hilt.

The handle of the hilt formed into the body of an angelic woman; her torso and legs provided enough room for two hands. Her arms stretched outward from her sides, her hands open and reaching with palms up, forming the swords cross guard. Her head rested on the base of the swords blade. A godly smile graced her face. Cedric wrapped his left hand tightly around her body and picked the sword up, still in its scabbard.

The words whispered from his lips drew awe from three officers in the room.

“The Heart of the King. An artifact from the Age of Creation, crafted by those whose gifts surpass even the mightiest of magic users today, and infused with power that we are still unable to understand." They all looked at the sword in astonishment.

“Let us prepare for war." Lord Cedric Reinhold turned with the sword in his hand and headed out of the tent.

The officers went a different direction, heading off to their respective camps. Arkam and the other Ice Lancers grabbed their gear and ran off into the woods, heading towards the west entrance of the city. Lord Reinhold strapped his sword to his left hip and headed to the spot where he earlier looked out upon Orlimay. He could hear the hustle of the camp behind him.

Within minutes, Charlotte stepped up beside him. She wore a golden tiara that fashioned a molded drop of water out of sapphires at its front peak, and around her shoulders hung a black velvet cloak. Charlotte looked upon the city. “Like the good old days, eh, Cedric?” she said with a small smile.