The Three Nations Box Set Read online

  Through the cracks in the walls, he watched the full moon rise slowly into the sky. Its cool light offered no warmth, yet the sight still gave him comfort.

  Eric froze as the soft crunch of a footstep on gravel carried to him from the street outside. Another followed, barely audible over the thudding of his heart.

  Swallowing hard, he tried to dislodge the lump in his throat. He peered out into the street and saw the silhouette of a man moving through the shadows.

  A brown cloak billowed out in the wind, revealing the gold embossed hilt of a short sword strapped to the man’s waist. Moving faster, he emerged from the shadows, seeming to make straight for Eric’s hiding place. Silver lines of thread embroidered his clothing, weaving intangible patterns down his arms and legs. A grey hood obscured his face, but Eric could feel his eyes as they searched the wreckage.

  Crouched in his hiding place, Eric hardly dared to breathe. Muscles tensed, he told himself he was safe, hidden by the shadows. But still the man came closer.

  “Come out,” the man whispered, his voice old and rasping. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Pulling back his hood, the man revealed his long grey hair and a clean-shaven chin. His lips curled into a frown as his piercing green eyes searched the shadows where Eric hid.

  Staring into those eyes, Eric found himself trapped in the heat of the man’s glare. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment Eric felt as though his mind must be an open book, as though those eyes could see straight to his very soul. Shame welled within him, the crushing weight of his guilt threatening to overwhelm him.

  Then the old man blinked, and Eric shuddered as the spell broke. He sank to his knees, staring at the muddy ground as the crunch of footsteps drew to a stop beside him. Exhaustion curled its way through his limbs, and he closed his eyes in listless surrender.

  But nothing happened. A long silence stretched out, before he finally looked back up. “What are you waiting for?” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Just do it.”

  The emerald eyes stared down at him, but the old man made no move to draw his sword. Anger flickered in Eric’s chest as he straightened, giving him strength.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  The old man blinked again. “To help you.”

  Eric stared up at the old man, struggling to find the words to respond.

  “To help me?” he said at last. He threw out his arms, gesturing at the wreckage. “Why would you want to help me? Can’t you see what I’ve done, what I create? Only a demon would want to help someone like me.”

  The man’s eyes hardened. “I am no demon, boy. I am just a man. But I am the only chance you have of controlling that power inside you.”

  Slowly, Eric pulled himself to his feet, until he stood in front of the man. “Who are you?” he whispered.

  “My name is Alastair. And I suggest you come with me, now, before the others find us.”

  Alastair.

  The name had a familiar ring – where had he heard it before? Regardless, he was not prepared to trust again so easily – not after what had happened in the marketplace.

  He stood his ground as the man started to turn away. “Why should I trust you, Alastair?”

  Alastair glanced back, a frown tugging at his lips. Then he shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t,” reaching down, he drew his sword from its sheath and flicked it into the air. Catching it by the blade, he offered it hilt-first to Eric. “You hold onto this for now, if it makes you feel safer. You can give it back once I’ve earned your trust.”

  Eric stared at the blade for a second, before reaching out to accept the old man’s offer. Alastair nodded as the sword left his hand, and then stepped from the crumbled building back out into the street. Eric quickly followed, doing his best to avoid the debris strewn across the cobbles.

  Ahead, Alastair slipped off the road and into an alleyway. Eric followed close on his heels, the sword clutched close to his body. He had never used one before, and the weapon felt awkward in his hands.

  The old man moved on, drawing Eric deeper into the gloom. Silently he cursed his naivety, allowing himself to be led into another alley, and he gripped the blade tighter.

  But Alastair did not look back, and glancing around, Eric realised with a shiver the buildings to either side of them had collapsed. The heavy stone walls had remained intact, but now they leaned out into the alley, forming an unstable roof above their heads. Moonlight flooded through cracks in the stone, lighting the way ahead.

  Eric swallowed at the thought of all that stone and wood perched preciously above him. But the time for doubt had long since passed. Silently he followed the silver streaks of Alastair’s cloak through the gloom, taking reassurance from the man’s seeming indifference to the danger looming above them.

  As they neared the end of the alleyway, Alastair came to a sudden stop ahead of him. Eric froze, holding his breath as he listened for signs of movement.

  A shuffling sound came from the shadows as a dark figure stepped into a column of moonlight. Brown eyes flickered with recognition as they fell on Eric.

  “You,” a voice hissed.

  3

  Gabriel crouched in the shadows, his head bowed, and waited for the end to come. Grief wrapped around his heart, its thorny tendrils tearing at his soul, its agony far worse than the dull ache of his battered body.

  As the night’s chill seeped through his rain-soaked clothes, he could feel his life fading away. But he welcomed the spectre of death with open arms. At least in death he would be free of the pain, would be reunited with those he had lost.

  How did this happen?

  Just this morning he had been happy, celebrating his engagement to the girl of his dreams. He had been sitting around the table with his parents, enjoying a simple breakfast of oats and fruit, grinning at the glow in his fiancée’s eyes. His father had been teasing him about Margaret staying the night, but they were to be married, and nothing could dent his joy.

  How wrong he had been.

  Before beginning work with his father in the family forge, Gabriel had headed down the road with the horseshoes they had completed for a client the night before. But only a block from home, everything had changed.

  There had been no warning, just a flash of light and a clap of thunder. Then death had come raining from the sky. There was no defence, nowhere to run or hide. Lightning danced through the streets, consuming all it touched, indiscriminate in its victims.

  When it finally passed, Gabriel had found himself standing alone amidst the ruin. As others began to pull themselves from the rubble, he had turned and stumbled towards his house, his dread growing with every step.

  It had taken him a long second to find his home amidst the ruins of his street. The two-storey villa was gone – all that remained were the broken walls and scattered roofing tiles. Flames flickered amidst the ruin, already beginning to grow.

  Plunging into the ruins, Gabriel screamed for his fiancée, for his father and mother, desperate for a response.

  He had found them in the back of the house, where they must have gathered to wait out the storm. Tears streamed down Gabriel’s cheeks as he collapsed to his knees and reached for the beam that had impaled his father’s body. His mother lay next to him, her neck bent at an awful angle. Their empty eyes stared up at him, frozen in terror.

  Then a moan had carried to his ears, and Gabriel moved further into the room, searching desperately for the source.

  He had found Margaret close to his parents, buried under heavy bricks, her loving face the only part of her left exposed. Her eyes flickered open as Gabriel crouched beside her.

  “Gabriel,” a trickle of blood ran from her mouth as she spoke.

  “I’m here, Margaret, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” he whispered.

  But his words were a lie. Kneeling beside her, Gabriel could not ignore the horror of her injuries. The collapsing wall had crushed her chest. It would not be long.

  He stroked her hair, whisper
ing soft comforts as her eyes flickered closed. Her breathing grew shallow, each inhalation harsh and gurgling, and then with a long sigh, she was gone.

  Heart breaking, Gabriel had buried his head in his arms, and sobbed for the love he’d lost. When he finally stood, he did not pause to look around, but strode from the ruin, desperate to escape, to flee the ruins of his life.

  Outside, he had encountered the other survivors, and learnt of the boy who danced with lightning, of the demon who had brought this curse down on Oaksville. Filled with rage, with a need to lash out, Gabriel had joined the mob in their hunt.

  Yet while the gates were sealed, their prey had vanished. Exhaustion quickly quenched his anger, and without it, grief returned to drown him. As night approached, despair had taken hold, and with the last of his strength, Gabriel had dragged himself into an alleyway. He could see the cracks riddling the stone walls, knew it would not be long before they crumbled. Closing his eyes, he had settled in to wait.

  But now he could hear the scrape of boots as someone approached through the darkness. Lifting his head, he stared into the shadows. His breath stilled as two figures stepped into view.

  An old man came first, his greying hair shining silver in the moonlight. But it was the boy who followed him that drew Gabriel’s attention. A mop of dark brown hair hung across his face, but beneath he could see the bright blue glow of his eyes.

  The same eyes the townsfolk had whispered of.

  The eyes of the demon.

  Mud and ash covered the boy’s clothes, and he held a short sword gripped tightly in one hand. Holes in his tunic revealed his pale flesh beneath. Cuts and grazes marked his skin, but there were no burns, no blisters.

  Taking a breath, Gabriel summoned the last of his strength and stood. “You!”

  4

  Eric retreated as the stranger advanced on him. Alastair stepped between them, but he was dwarfed by the young man. Rage blazed in his brown eyes and his shoulders heaved as he stared down at Alastair. Lines of exhaustion criss-crossed his face.

  But Alastair did not back down. “Step aside, boy.”

  The stranger shook his head. “They’re all gone, all dead because of him,” he ground out the words. “Why? What did they ever do to you?”

  When Eric didn’t respond, the stranger took another step. Eric shrank before his unwavering gaze, the terror in his chest swelling with every breath. He licked his cracked lips, his mouth as dry as sand.

  Alastair threw out an arm to block the man’s path. “Stop,” he ordered.

  The stranger blinked, his eyes flickering to Alastair. “You protect him?” he gaped.

  Alastair stared him down. “What is your name?” he ignored the question.

  “Gabriel,” the young man swallowed as his eyes met Alastair’s. Suddenly he looked uncertain, but taking a breath, he steadied. “I won’t let him escape. Out of my way, old man.”

  Gathering himself, Gabriel tried to push past Alastair, but the old man shifted to block him.

  “Last chance, old man,” Gabriel growled, grimacing. “I won’t ask again.”

  But still Alastair did not move. Gabriel swore and clenched his fists, then without warning, he launched himself at the old man. Eric gripped the sword tighter, preparing to leap to Alastair’s aid.

  But Alastair was faster. Turning on his heel, he sidestepped Gabriel’s headlong rush. The boy gave a yelp as Alastair’s hands shot out to catch him by the coat. Using the momentum of Gabriel’s charge, the old man twisted again, and sent his would-be-attacker headfirst into the brick wall.

  There was a harsh crunch as Gabriel struck, followed by silence as he collapsed on the ground.

  Eric’s mouth fell open as he stared at the unconscious man. Looking up at Alastair, he struggled to hide his shock.

  How did he move so fast?

  “Come, Eric,” Alastair said as he stepped past Gabriel. “There’s not much time before day break.”

  Still staring at the comatose Gabriel, Eric nodded and moved after the old man.

  A few seconds later they emerged into an empty street. Glancing up, Eric found the town walls towering over them, a silent shadow against the night sky. Beyond, the moon had finally taken its place amongst the stars.

  Alastair took the lead again, crossing the street and picking his way through the rubble of an old building, until they reached the foot of the town walls.

  Eric shivered as he stared at the giant stone blocks. They stretched some thirty feet above them, their surface worn smooth by the passage of time. The ramparts of this wall had overlooked Oaksville for centuries, dating all the way back to the Great War. In all that time, they had stood strong against the dangers without.

  That is, until today.

  A knotted rope trailed down from high above, flapping in the night’s breeze. Alastair took the rope in one hand and held it out to Eric.

  “The gates were barred when I reached the city, I was forced to improvise my entrance. You go first, but wait at the top for me. There is another rope on the other side of the ramparts. If you hear a guard, whistle, but most of them are busy elsewhere.”

  Eric shivered as he took the rope, the strength fleeing his legs. His heart raced as the sickly taste of fear choked him.

  He was terrified of heights.

  But he was out of options. Hands shaking, he slipped Alastair’s short sword into his belt and gripped the rope in both hands.

  You can do this, he repeated the words to himself like a mantra.

  A cold sweat beaded his brow as he started to climb. Going hand over hand, he made his slow way up, planting the toes of his boots in the shallow cracks he found between the stones.

  For the first few steps, the going was relatively easy. But as he drew higher, the stones became worn, the cracks between them finer, and his old boots struggled to maintain their grip.

  When he was twenty feet up, they finally slipped on the slick surface. Eric screamed and grasped desperately at the rope as his body slammed sidelong into the wall. The coarse fibres cut into his hands, but somehow, he held on.

  By the time his feet found a new purchase, his arms were trembling with the exertion. Chest heaving, he scrambled up the last ten feet and swung himself over the crenulations. In those final moments, he didn’t care whether a guard waited for him, only that he escape the yawning chasm beneath him.

  Gasping for breath, Eric slumped against the crenulations and waited for Alastair. He could hardly believe he’d made it. Moments later he heard the thud of boots on stone, and looked up as Alastair leapt down beside him.

  The old man grinned when he saw Eric slouched against the ramparts. “I’ll go down first. You look like you could use a breather.”

  With that he crossed to the other side, reached between the crenulations, pulled up a rope, and vanished over the side.

  Pulling himself back to his feet, Eric turned to gaze back over the town. Oaksville stretched out below, its dim remnants cast in grey by the moonlight. Flames still burned in places, but the rain had tamed the worst of it. The distant screams of the desperate and dying rose from the wreckage, and a cloud of smoke hung low over the town.

  With misty eyes, Eric turned away. This was far worse than he had ever imagined. Oaksville would never recover from such a blow. He had been its doom. Thinking of the hundreds of shattered lives, he swore to himself he would find a way to make things right.

  Beside him, the rope went slack. Taking a long breath, he picked it up and leaned back over the side. Heart pounding in his chest, he summoned the last of his courage, and started down.

  His arms shook as he clung to the rope, his strength fading quickly now. He needed to reach the ground, and fast.

  Almost halfway down, a sudden gust of wind knocked him sideways, sending him crashing into the wall. Tasting the metallic tang of blood, he spat it out.

  Without thinking, Eric glanced down and saw the rope trailing away beneath him to the ground far below. His vision swam, and ice swelled in his
chest. Suddenly he could not breathe, could not move, his whole body paralysed with terror.

  The gale appeared from nowhere. Its breath ripped at his wet clothing, kissed with the icy chill of the far north. The temperature plummeted and Eric’s teeth started to chatter. Shivering, he clung to the rope, his only lifeline amidst the storm.

  Eric stared at the wall, struggling to beat back his fear. As he watched, the rain-soaked stones started to glisten, the freezing wind turning the water to ice.

  “No…” Eric whispered.

  He closed his eyes, his breath coming in raged gasps. He could sense the strength in his fingers fading, sucked away by the cold and his exhaustion. His boots slid from the wall, unable to find purchase on the slick ice, leaving only his tenuous hold on the rope keeping him aloft.

  His fingers went numb as the wind howled again, drawing the last heat from his trembling body. His eyes watered, the tears freezing on his cheeks as he fought to hold on.

  But it was impossible. Bit by bit the feeling in his fingers faded away, until as if by a will of their own, they released his last hold on life.

  And Eric fell away into darkness.

  Gabriel lay in the mud, his will broken, his last hope of avenging his family wasted. Despair wrapped its cold fingers around his heart. Sprawled in the filth of the alleyway, he couldn’t even summon the will to sit up.

  Gabriel.

  He closed his eyes as the voice whispered in his mind, pervasive, insistent. It had drawn him from the darkness of oblivion, returning him to the agony of life.

  But all he wanted now was the sweet relief of death.

  Not yet.

  Gabriel shivered as the voice came again. Overhead, a low groan came from the bricks. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the broken walls, at the cracks threading across their surface. He lay motionless, breath held, waiting for it all to come crashing down.

  Coward.

  There was an accusation to the voice now, and anger flickered in his chest.

  “I am not a coward,” he growled to the empty alleyway.