Valkyria (4 page)

“
Three cubs and a mother,”
said Einar. “We’re after fifteen coins for the mother and six each
for the cubs.” He noticed the quizzical expression on his sister’s
face and smiled at her before winking.

“
That’s a very hefty sum
you are asking, boy,” said the burly man. “I can give you ten for
the mother and six in total for all the cubs, not just one of
‘em.”

Einar shook his head and lifted the
cart, taking a single stride forward whilst looking at his sister
with a hidden smile.

“
Wait a second, boy,” said
the man, “where are you going?”

“
To find someone who can
actually afford such good and fresh meat.”

“
Alright boy, listen.
Twelve for mother I can do, but I will only pay six in total for
the cubs.”

Einar smiled, glancing at his sister
who nodded at him with the same look on her face. She understood
what just happened, that was sure. The stall owner reached into a
metal box in front of him and pulled out a handful of copper coins.
There must have been at least a thousand in the box, but he counted
out eighteen from the pile in his hand before hastily replacing the
rest.

Einar placed the bodies of the wolves
behind the stall before taking the coins from the overweight man
and return to the cart. However, as he went to lift the handle up
once again, he noticed a familiar face, the red hair and orange
dots on it standing out in the crowd of dark hair and pale
faces.

“
Rin! What are you doing
here?”

Rin didn’t answer, the man’s eyes
opening wide before he suddenly dashed off down an alley on the
left. Einar’s face contorted and twisted to the side as he watched
his friend disappear into the mass of people.

“
What was that for,” asked
Alexia. Einar could only shake his head in disbelief. Why would Rin
flee the sight of him? It made no sense to the young man. He sighed
before pointing to another market stall a few strides away that was
decorated with chickens hanging from the ceiling.

“
Let’s get the chicken and
bread and go home,” he said. “I’m sure Rin will explain himself
when he comes back from the wedding.”

They pulled the cart to the stall,
bought themselves a whole chicken. After that they quickly went to
the bakers for the bread before leaving the lively city to head
back to the drudgery of Caim Village before the approaching storm
clouds arrived in full.

*~*~*

4

RIN

Rin ran. He ran as fast as his tired
legs could carry him, jumping from left to right in order to avoid
the market carts and girls of the night who were just making their
way to work. He ran in the hope that Einar wouldn’t follow. How
could he have let the boy see him?

Alley after alley shot past in an
instant, from brick stone to mortar which was finally followed by
the snow white marble walls of the wedding hall where his beloved
Ari awaited his return. She was waiting with that horrid
man.

Rin barged through the door, the
splinters tearing at his skin as the old wooden frame buckled. The
lights were still out, the candles smoking just enough for white
streams to float away from them. The hall was a large open room of
emptiness except for the dining table and twenty chairs that
surrounded it from head to toe. It had been far too many chairs,
fifteen too many, but they were already there when Rin and Ari had
arrived.

Everyone must have been in the waiting
room where he had left them. The door to the room was covered by a
lilac and sky blue cloth, Ari’s favourite colours, in preparation
for the celebration. Rin opened it hastily, the handle cracking
under the speed.

“
There you are, dear boy,”
said the raspy, empty voice that Rin had hoped was just a dream.
Yet there stood the vile atrocity of a man. His night black cloak
concealed his body entirely, but the weathered and eroded face was
enough to freeze one’s very soul.

He called himself Aeon, Rim remembered.
He had said he was doing this for the good of the Ringlands,
‘preparing for the coming storm’, although Rin had no idea what he
meant. He had said that taking Ari and her family hostage he was
protecting the freedom of the Ringlands. It was all a bull’s tripe
as far as Rin was concerned.

“
Have you any news of my
quarry, dear boy,” continued the gargoyle of a human.

“
Yes I do, so release my
family and I shall tell you.”

Aeon’s neck cracked like an earthquake
as he twisted his head to one side like a bird of prey examining
its next meal. Approaching Rin, his cloak hid his feet and gave the
impression that he was floating. Rin took a step back but leaped
forward again when the rotten door to the hall behind him closed
itself.

“
You think me a fool, do
you not?” Aeon continued his snail paced advance as he spoke, his
eyes not moving a single inch away from Rin’s. “You think I am to
give you what you desire and then you will flee from me?” A breeze
filled the room, blowing the curtains of the open window like
wings, yet Aeon’s cloak lay still like a statue. “There is no where
you can run. So tell me of my quarry.”

“
She is with her brother,”
said Rin. “They are returning to Caim as we speak, and I believe
that it will take them at best three hours to reach the tree you
mentioned.”

“
Very good, dear boy. You
have done well. I take it they suspect nothing?”

Rin could feel his legs weakening
quickly. Aeon had said that Alexia must not know she was being
followed, yet Einar had seen him. He didn’t want to say anything,
but from the closed eyes on Aeon’s face, he was sure the horrid man
already knew.

“
Einar saw me,” he said.
“But I said nothing and fled before he could reach me. I do not
think he suspects anything.”

Aeon moved not one inch, his bright
green eyes piercing Rin’s heart like a thousand spears. His left
hand appeared from his cloak, open, and rose toward Rin’s
face.

“
Fear not, dear boy,” said
Aeon, “you have done well. You have helped the Ringlands far more
than you could possibly understand. You have given me the knowledge
I need to protect this wonderful land.”

He paused. His hand was still raised.
The breeze grew in strength and the delightful wedding glasses and
statue of a dove fell from their stands, splintering as the crashed
to the floorboard below.

“
Although it is such a
shame you were seen,” continued Aeon. “What I can do now I do not
know, but she’ll tell me. Of that I am sure.”

Rin tried to reach for the decorative
sword that hung on the wall above his head, but found his arms and
legs would not move. Ari was still seated behind Aeon, her golden
hair flung by the wind and her wedding dress tearing in the breeze
revealing far too much of her before her bedding night.

“
He must understand the
consequences of failure” said a voice far more beautiful than Rin
had ever heard. Yet there was no one speaking.

“
Who said that?” Rin’s head
turned left to right in an attempt to see if there was someone in
the room he had missed. There wasn’t.

“
She did,” answered Aeon.
“And my dear, I truly am sorry for this.” His fist clenched shut
tight, and Rin felt like he had suddenly donned a hundred coats of
chainmail. He saw Ari and her parents fall to the floor as he did
the same.

Ari’s father tried to stand, managing
to get to his hands and knees, but they were shaking like an old
man, which he certainly was not. He pushed against the floor, but
the hidden weight was too much and his arms and legs snapped, the
sound echoing throughout the room before he left out a high pitched
scream that was more like a lost bat than a strong man as he had
been.

Aeon glided toward Ari, drawing a great
sword with an emerald green blade. Rin tried to call out, to shout
for Ari to run, but no sound came to his lips. In a flash of green
and red his beautiful bride’s golden curls were stained crimson as
the blade sliced through her soft waist like water. Her mother
followed soon after.

The weathered man turned his attention
back to Rin, raising the sword once again.

“
Allow me to introduce you
to Judgement,” he said. “It served me well against Alexandria, and
even better after the revolution.” He closed in, the breeze growing
even stronger, the paper on the walls beginning to tear as wooden
supports groaned. The weight that held Rin to the floor grew
heavier and he felt his arms and legs giving in, splitting into
pieces within his skin.

“
I truly am sorry for this,
dear boy,” continued Aeon. “You did so well, but she has decided
your fate.” The blade, Judgement, came down.

*~*~*

5

SERAN

The coach rattled and rolled along the
cobbled roadways that lead south from Alexandria City. Mountains
spanned every angle like a border. The Dragonteeth Mountains spread
westward along the northern horizon before twisting and heading due
north into the Three Peaks, and out of Alexandria Empire
territory.

To the south lay the Karün Peaks which
had once acted as a border wall preventing the tribes of Twin
Rivers from entering Alexandria until the Alexandria Empire took
control of the region. To the front of the coach lay the
Highstones, the largest mountains in the Imperial territory, and
the end of the mainland of Rhythlan. A few short leagues before the
feet of the mountain range sat the town of Karayol, a fisherman’s
paradise but far from the splendour of Alexandria City.

Seran sat within the red lined carriage
of the coach, listening to the rhythm of the horses as they
galloped along. The world passed at such speed that he could only
make out the flashes of colours. Reds, blues and greens skimmed
across his eye sight, as did the odd shade of brown which he
assumed where horses heading the opposite direction.

The coach jolted into the air for a
split second, and following a large crash Seran’s head was
throbbing. He hated travelling in such a fashion. It was far more
pleasing to simply climb atop a stallion and ride in the freedom of
the open world. However, such an action was unbefitting one such as
himself now that he was a Dragoon.

Dragoons were the finest knights of the
Alexandria Empire, and had to act in such a manner or risk
embarrassing the Queen and all that she ruled.

Life itself was better as a Dragoon.
With the coin and respect he gained he could purchase any girl he
pleased, eat whatever his belly fancied and swig as much ale and
wine as he could find. However, the constant concern of appearance
was almost overbearing to him.

Seran had been born a farmer’s boy
living outside the gates of the Upper City, but found that he was
far better with a sword than a hoe. Thus he had enrolled in the
Lower City guard. After that, due to his ability with a blade, he
rose in status and power swiftly, dragging Lonthan with
him.

Now they were knights, and Seran
himself was a Lord. Life had changed, but he was never sure how
much better it was, or whether the trade he had made was truly
worth it.

A crackle similar to that of a harpy
dragged to young knight back to reality, although he was only young
in terms of the other knights, being the rather late age of twenty
nine.

“
What say you to a bottle
of ale whilst we go,” said one of the two horseman to the other,
although Seran could not see which due to the box he was seated
in.

“
The Lord may not like such
an idea,” said the other. Seran chuckled to himself, shaking his
head before knocking on the carriage wall.

“
Go ahead,” he responded,
“as long as you share some with me.”

He could hear the pair of horse tamers
whispering to one another, but couldn’t make out the words over the
sound of the coach wheels riding over the stone.

“
You are sure, my lord?”
The voice of the horseman sounded broken and dry as he shouted.
They must have been parched, Seran was sure of that.

“
I am sure; just pass a
bottle or two to me.”

“
Thank you My Lord, my son
will pass it to you immediately-”

Before the sentence finished a croaking
sound filled the air instead and the horseman’s voice faded
completely. The horses snorted and gave a high pitched squeal
before the body of the horseman fell to the road beside the coach.
An arrow had impaled itself in his neck.

A second later three arrows pierced the
carriage wall but did not continue through it. However, Seran saw
the younger horseman fall as well. Bandits were coming. That was
obvious. The day was turning to dusk and he hadn’t heard a sign on
another horse for at least an hour. He reached for his seat,
lifting it and drawing the long sword from inside. The handle
sported a rose engraved into the hilt, and the word ‘firethorn’
etched into the blade, which itself had a series of metal spikes
surrounding it. Seran twisted a key on the thick box on the end of
hilt, starting the small steam engine that powered the chain the
spikes were connected to. They sped around the edge of the blade,
showing why it was called a chainsword. Seran waited.