Quest for the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga Book 3) Page 4

  The dragon was about to plunge its head into the water and snap up the woman when Luxon launched the fireball. It struck the dragon in the side of the head causing it to roar, not in pain, but in annoyance. The magical attack had not made a scratch. Luxon cried out as the dragon faced him. Luxon turned and ran back through the village, the ground shaking as the beast chased him.

  A group of the goblin-like creatures tried to bar his path, but again he used his power to blast them out of his way like bowling pins. He cried out in relief as a magical archway appeared before him. He could feel the dragon closing in. Just as the beast opened its jaws, Luxon jumped through the archway. There was a blinding flash.

  He had escaped.

  5.

  The Westerlands

  Ferran of Blackmoor gestured for the others to follow him. The woodlands of the Westerlands were a dangerous place at the best of times, but with nightfall quickly approaching that danger would increase tenfold. Umbaroth had dropped them off somewhere near the borders of the Black Marsh, an isolated spot that was several days walk to the nearest trace of civilisation. It was a land ruled by savage tribes that dwelled in these marshy lands that dominated the west coast of Delfinnia.

  As a Nightblade, Ferran knew many of the secret and ancient roadways that dotted the landscape. The track they were on now had been created by the long-dead Nivonian Empire, and only the odd carved stone jutting from the long grass was a clue that the road existed at all. It had taken him the first two days just to get his bearings, but now he knew which way to travel, soon they would reach the border of the Barony of Robinta and the town of Ridderford. Their supplies were running low, and only Sophia’s skill with a bow had ensured that they’d had a steady diet of rabbits for the journey.

  Sophia made a low whistle, instructing them to pause, Hannah almost walked into Ferran’s back as the sound took them by surprise. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave his wife a questioning look. Sophia hurried over to him and crouched in the grass.

  “Amongst the trees to the north. Someone or something is shadowing us,” she whispered.

  She frowned as Faramond kept on walking. The tribal king ignored her calls to get into cover. Since the fall of the Watchers, Faramond had been a shade of his former self. Seeing so many of his kin slain and forced to flee their home on the Great Plain had broken him. Now, the tribes were scattered and leaderless, left to fend for themselves inside a kingdom that showed them nothing but hostility.

  Sophia swore under her breath as a cry came from the trees to the north. The sound of men barrelling through undergrowth followed. An arrow whistled past Faramond’s head, but still, he kept on walking. Sophia sprung to her feet and tackled him to the ground as another of the deadly projectiles whistled past.

  They fell together in a heap onto to the leaf-strewn forest floor. Sophia glared at Faramond, whose eyes snapped back into focus as though he had returned from some distant place.

  “Get it together, Faramond; you’ll get us all killed,” she snapped.

  The king’s eyes widened. He nodded his head in understanding. Behind them, Ferran rose from his hiding place and summoned his Tourmaline blade into life. The magical weapon hummed with energy. With effortless skill, Ferran swatted three arrows out of the sky.

  “It’s a Nightblade!” someone yelled.

  A barrage of expletives and panicked cries came from the trees, quickly followed by the sound of breaking twigs and more cursing.

  Ferran gripped the hilt of the blade in a two-handed stance and smiled as the brigands turned tail and fled back into the undergrowth. Satisfied that the bandits had gone he dispelled the magical blade and tucked it into his belt. His gaze turned to Faramond, who looked bereaved.

  “It’s okay, Faramond,” Hannah soothed. The young healer took the king’s hand in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.

  “I am sorry …” Faramond said quietly. He gently removed Hannah’s hand from his own before turning and walking off into the forest. Hannah was about to go after him.

  “Leave him,” Ferran said. “He has a lot on his mind, and he can take care of himself. Give him some space. I doubt he’s had time to digest all that has happened to him these past few days. C’mon, if we continue this way we should come upon the road to Ridderford by nightfall.”

  *

  Just as Ferran had predicted, they reached the road, albeit later than forecast. The two moons were high in the sky, casting their soft white glow upon the world below. The light was a welcome relief to the weary travellers. The forest was thick with stinging nettle bushes, and thistles grew at the side of the paved road. The light had enabled them to navigate through the prickly maze relatively unharmed. A faded signpost stood in a small clearing. Carved upon its surface was an arrow pointing east and the faint name of the nearest town: Ridderford.

  “You should never doubt a Nightblade’s sense of direction, my love,” Ferran chuckled as he gave Sophia an I told you so expression.

  “Just two more miles and we will reach civilisation.”

  “Well, you got it right, this time, I’ll give you that. Still doesn’t let you off the hook for that time in the River Lands, though,” she chided.

  Ferran shook his head.

  “One time and she’ll never let me forget it.”

  The sound of an owl hooting loudly from a nearby tree combined with the sounds of crickets and other insects that occupied the night. Standing next to the signpost was a tall stone that was covered in moss and ivy. Ferran walked over to it and placed a hand upon the chipped and worn surface. Closing his eyes, he could feel the magic humming through it; the rune stone would offer them a safe place to camp for the evening.

  “I know we’re close to Ridderford, but I think we should set up camp for the night. Fell Beasts stalk the roadways at night.”

  The group set about clearing some space next to the stone, and Sophia set to work building a small fire out of twigs and moss. It wasn’t long before they were all sat around the flickering flames. Faramond had found a spot underneath a nearby tree and was snoring softly. Ferran, too, was asleep, leaving Sophia and Hannah on watch.

  “Are you okay?” Sophia asked. The younger woman had been through a lot the past few days. She had witnessed a battle for the first time, had seen the horrors that men and monsters could unleash, and had seen the man she loved come close to death.

  “It isn’t what I thought it would be like,” Hannah replied softly. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair and stared into the fire. “For so long I had wanted to see the wider world, the world beyond Caldaria, but now … it’s so dark, so cruel. I thought it would be exciting, but instead I feel terrified.”

  Sophia put an arm around her and hugged her reassuringly. “I felt that way when I first left my home. I was just a young girl when my father summoned me to join him in Balnor. Before that, I had lived on a small estate nestled amongst the Golden Hills. I remember playing in the apple orchards with the children from the nearby mining camps. I was happy there. When the summons came, all of my possessions were boxed up and I was put on a carriage. I had very little knowledge of the world beyond the estate, and when I arrived in Balnor, I was terrified by the size of the place and the sheer number of people.”

  Hannah looked at the Witch Hunter in a new light. She had always assumed that Sophia had always been strong and fearless.

  “I wish I could be brave like you. Luxon was so brave when he first left Caldaria. All of the things he saw and did – his stories made me want to join him on his next adventure so much. I wanted to protect him and be at his side … and now I don’t even know where he is.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

  Sophia squeezed Hannah’s shoulder.

  “Luxon will be fine. He survived the Void itself; he has stood face to face with Danon twice and lived. He won’t let some sickness best him. He has Yepert and Umbaroth with him, and they will see that no harm befalls him. He will come back to you, I promise. Now, go get some sleep I’ll cover the r
est of this watch.”

  Hannah nodded and yawned.

  “Thank you, Sophia,” she said before resting her head on Sophia’s shoulder and falling asleep.

  *

  The next morning, they were awoken just after dawn by the sound of galloping hooves. Ferran scrambled to his feet and urged the others to follow suit. Before they could take cover in the foliage at the side of the road, a man shouted at them to stop. On the road was a lone rider wearing plate armour and a mantle emblazoned with the emblem of the barony of Retbit. Faramond reached for his sword, but Ferran touched his arm to warn him not to draw it from the scabbard.

  Other riders emerged from the bend in the road; all were similarly dressed like the first, all except one. Sat astride a white stallion was a man wearing a suit of armour made from silver plate that glinted in the sunlight. A pair of green eyes looked at Ferran and the others through the visor of his helmet.

  “Well, well, who do we have here?”

  Ferran stepped forward. He pointed to each of his companions in turn. “I am Ferran of Blackmoor, Nightblade. This is Faramond, king of the Keenblade Tribe; Sophia Cunning, my wife and Witch Hunter; and the girl is Hannah Everlen, our servant.”

  He gave Hannah a look of warning. No mages were allowed outside of Caldaria since Ricard had effectively seized control of the realm – a law that had resulted in the execution and torture of many.

  The horseman’s eyes widened at the names. He reached up and removed his helmet to reveal a head of thick black hair and a bronzed face. To Ferran’s surprise, the man smiled.

  “This is indeed a fortuitous meeting. I am Rusay Broadmane, the Baron of Robinta. To meet such esteemed people as yourselves on this road in the middle of nowhere strikes me as fateful indeed.” The man turned to his men. “You three dismount and give your horses to them. You can get new mounts in Ridderford. Deliver my message to the mayor as ordered and return to the High Castle when you can.”

  A chorus of disgruntled “Yes, sirs” sounded as the three men dismounted and handed the reins of their mounts to Ferran and the others.

  “Thank you, Baron. We have nothing to give you in thanks for this kindness, but we really must …” Ferran tried to say but was interrupted by Rusay holding a hand up.

  “You will repay me by travelling with me back to Robinta. Two of the Heroes of Eclin – and a king, no less – do not cross my path every day, and I have much to discuss with you. The last time I heard your name, Ferran, was in Sunguard. Davik told me of your group’s mission to the Watchers. I want to know why you are a thousand leagues from there, and I want to know what happened. I will not take no for an answer.”

  *

  Rusay interrogated them all as they travelled. Ferran told him everything that he could of the battle and of the terrible army that was now coming for them all. Of Luxon, he offered little in the way of information – he did not know whether he could trust the baron. In return, Rusay told them of the events that had taken place in Sunguard. The description of Davik’s poisoning had caused Sophia to weep and Ferran’s mood to turn dark. The man had been a good friend. With Davik out of the way, Ricard had asserted his authority over the king and the realm.

  “I am now considered an enemy of the realm,” Rusay explained. “Me and poor Balnor took up the banner of revolt against Ricard. He continues to plead his innocence and claims that he had nothing to do with Davik’s murder, and yet he wasted no time at all at taking over. Only the people’s fear of Danon has prevented them from openly rebelling.”

  “What of King Alderlade?” Sophia asked. She and Hannah were sharing a horse.

  “My spies tell me that the king and his handmaiden, Elena, have been imprisoned in the King’s Spire,” Rusay explained. “Ricard has made them his hostages to cement his rule. Alderlade is now nothing but his puppet. It is Ricard that wields the true power.”

  The group of riders were travelling east down the Northern road that cut through the Ridder Lands and Westerlands, and led down into the Robintan valley. Due to being in a valley, the region had a microclimate that ensured that it remained warm all year round. It was the perfect place for food production, and the Robintans had grown rich from feeding the rest of the realm. It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached the Robintan border.

  The road descended steeply to reveal a landscape that was surprisingly flat. Fields of wheat and barley interspersed with apple orchards, and small homesteads stood at the roadside. The traffic on the road increased as they headed down into the valley. Merchants with waggons laden with produce trundled passed. Most would be heading west to Blackmoor and its port, or south towards the capital.

  “These will be the last merchants heading towards Sunguard for some time,” Rusay said. “I am a merciful man, and I would never see my fellow countrymen suffer throughout the winter. These last waggons will provide enough food for the city until the spring. If people go hungry, then that is down to Ricard.”

  “You mean to incite rebellion by stopping the flow of food to the capital?” Ferran asked.

  It was a sound strategy, and one that the baron could plead innocence for if the population did go hungry.

  “You do not approve?”

  Ferran shook his head. Whenever men of power clashed, it was always the weak and innocent that suffered the most. He had little respect for the ruling elite. His father was the baron of the city of Blackmoor, and it was his weakness that had claimed the life of his mother and forced him to flee his homeland as a child.

  “Instead of fighting each other, every one of us needs to unite if we are to stand any chance of defeating Danon. Has the thought crossed your mind that perhaps it was he that had Davik killed? It’s the same tactic that Cliria used to spark the War of the Seven Claimants.”

  Rusay frowned at Ferran’s words. For a moment, he felt doubt in his convictions. The feeling quickly passed, however, as he remembered all that Ricard had done.

  “Have you heard any news from the south?” Ferran went on.

  They were in the dark as to what had happened after the fall of the Watchers. With the mighty fortress now in ruins, the full might of Danon’s army could enter Delfinnia unimpeded.

  “Only that Danon’s army has swept across the Bison plains, destroying any village in its path,” Rusay answered. “The people that they kill are resurrected using foul magic to join the ranks of the undead.”

  They rounded a bend in the road, and the baron’s mood lifted. “Ah, home sweet home,’ he baron exclaimed.

  On the horizon was a city. The green banners of Robinta that were flying from the walls flapped in the breeze. Towering over the city’s houses and other buildings was the baron’s fortress, the High Castle.

  “You will all dine with me tonight and of course will be given rooms to sleep in. I daresay, after your time on the road you will be grateful for a warm hearth. I will order the servants to get the bathhouse heated up for you as well.”

  Despite his reservations, Ferran had to admit that the prospect of a hot bath and meal was very appealing. He glanced at the others. The tiredness in their eyes and the dirtiness of their clothing made his mind up.

  “Thank you,” he said. “We accept your hospitality.”

  6.

  Luxon opened his eyes. His escape from the strange world had been a close-run thing. The magical portal he had fled through had taken him somewhere else. All around him were tall trees, and the sky was dark. To his surprise, the two moons that orbited Esperia were high in the sky, suggesting that it was now close to midnight. He was home, but now the question was whether he was in his own time. The Lady of the Isle had warned that he would see many strange worlds and times. He wrapped his cloak tightly about his body as a cold wind rustled the trees. To his surprise, snow began to fall from their branches. He tilted his head to listen. He could hear the crunching of feet moving over cold ground heading his way. As before, he hid – this time behind a tree trunk. A man dressed in armour which shone with energy stepped into view
. His head of thick black hair was offset by a pale face.

  He looks familiar, Luxon thought. Being careful not to make any noise, he followed the armoured man through the trees. Eventually, they reached a clearing, and the man sat down on the ground. He looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders; it was a feeling that Luxon could sympathise with.

  Despite the cold, Luxon couldn’t bring himself to leave the man. As before, a feeling tugged at his conscience. It was a persistent feeling that something important was about to happen.

  The man sat there for what felt like hours, his eyes grew heavy, and his head slumped as he fell into a deep sleep. Luxon sat down next to the tree and waited. It wasn’t long before he too drifted off.

  The sound of breaking twigs caused him and the man to snap awake with a start, the man’s hand instinctively reached for the sword that hung from his belt.

  “Relax,” purred a voice from the darkness. “The enemy is still a long ways off. They will not reach this peak until the dawn.”

  Luxon held his breath. The voice echoed from all around the clearing. The man leapt to his feet and drew his blade.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  “I am your creator,” the voice said.

  Luxon tried to make out where the voice was coming from. The forest was now dark, and the stars were riding high in the sky. He frowned. The darkness grew in intensity so that even the faint light of the night sky dimmed. He could barely make out his hand in front of his face.

  “Do not fear me, Danon. You are different from the others,” the voice continued. “You think for yourself; you see the horror of it all and want this war to end. Most importantly, you want to be free.”

  Luxon froze. Did the voice just say Danon?