The Three Nations Box Set Page 5

  “The Goddess be damned!” Gabriel cursed. “If she cared, she would have stopped the demon before it came here. No, it’s up to us to stop it, before it claims more lives. We may not have its power, but I have a sword, and last I heard, a demon still dies when you stab it.”

  The guard frowned at Gabriel. “You’re just one man.”

  “Join me and there will be two,” Gabriel replied.

  The silence stretched out, their eyes locked in a silent battle. But Gabriel did not look away, and finally the man nodded. “You’re a tough little bugger. But you’re right, someone’s got to stop that demon.” He held out his hand. “The name’s Tom.”

  After that, their numbers slowly swelled, until come morning, two-dozen men had joined Gabriel at the eastern gates. They had gathered up stray horses and weapons as they wandered the town, and now Gabriel felt confident about their chances. He still wore the short sword strapped to his waist, but many of the men around him were armed with crossbows. If they could track down their quarry, Gabriel was confident things would end differently this time.

  Word came at dawn confirming Gabriel’s suspicions. Tracks had been found at the base of the eastern wall, leading off into the forest. Unable to wait any longer, Gabriel and the other men set off through the eastern gate. The clatter of hooves on cobbles was deafening in the tunnel, but ahead the bright light of the world beyond beckoned.

  Sitting comfortably in the saddle, Gabriel kicked his horse into the lead as they emerged from the gate. While they had never been rich, the forge had provided his family with enough for a modest existence – including a horse and wagon. In his free time Gabriel had often taken the gelding off into the forest with Margaret, to wander at their leisure.

  Now though, Gabriel’s mind was focused on the chase. His thoughts were far ahead of him, picturing the twists and turns of the Gods’ road. If they’d climbed the wall, it meant the boy and old man were on foot. They should have no trouble getting ahead of them – after that, it was only a matter of closing the noose around them.

  The breeze picked up as he kicked his horse into a gallop. The others followed suit, and they raced up the hill from the town. He did not look back as they entered the trees – he had no wish to see the smoking ruin of his home. The trees loomed around them as they pushed on, their branches stretching overhead to blot out the sky.

  Amidst the woods, the stench of the burning town faded away, replaced by the richness of the earth and trees. The fury of their passage sent leaves whirling around them and birds flew shrieking into the trees at their approach. Within a few minutes, Gabriel’s horse began to snort, unused to the hard pace. But as it slowed he dug in his heels, determined to outpace their quarry.

  Faster.

  The thought slivered through his mind, driving him onwards. A need rose within him, a longing to see the demon pay, to watch its face as he plunged his sword into its black heart. His chest ached as red flashed across his vision. He could almost smell the blood, taste the thrill of revenge.

  Ahead the Gods’ road bent way to the right, concealing what lay beyond. Crouching in the saddle, Gabriel pressed his mount harder, feeling the beast shuddering beneath him. They would have to slow down soon, regardless of his own desires. Their horses were work beasts, not trained for such a hard pace, but he would press them for as long as he could.

  As they raced around the bend, Gabriel heard a shout from one of the other men. He glanced across in time to see an arrow sprout from Tom’s chest. His mouth fell open as Tom slumped in the saddle and tumbled from his horse. Tugging at the reins, Gabriel tried to slow his mount, but it was far too late for that.

  Black-garbed men streamed from the trees around them, while ahead the road straightened, revealing the massed ranks of black-garbed men and wagons. Before Gabriel and his men could recover, the men roared, and charged.

  Eric sat frozen in his saddle as the massive Baronian drew to a stop in front of the wagons. Hands on his hips, the man stared up at them, his black eyes glinting in the low light. Swallowing, Eric reached unconsciously for his knife, before remembering he had lost it in Oaksville. Briar shifted beneath him, his ears lying flat against his skull. Beside him, Alastair sat straight in the saddle, calmly returning the Baronian’s glare.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” the Baronian repeated.

  “Out of the way, Baronian,” Alastair growled. Elcano stamped his hoof to reinforce the old man’s words. “In the name of the Goddess.”

  “Oh, the Goddess is it?” The Baronian threw back his head and howled with laughter. The others joined in, and the forest rang with their mirth.

  Eric glanced at Alastair, his skin tingling at the thought of all the arrows pointed at his exposed body. One slip of a finger, one over eager bandit, and it would all be over. He hoped Alastair knew what he was doing.

  When the Baronians eventually fell silent, their leader took another step towards Alastair. “Well, I’ll admit, that’s a new one,” a broad grin split his face. “Doesn’t matter though. I’ll tell you the same thing I tell all the others: to pass you’ll have to pay the toll.”

  “And what is the toll?” Eric croaked.

  “All that you have.” The big man’s tone brooked no argument.

  Alastair met the Baronian’s ultimatum with silence. Sweat dripped down Eric’s back as he stared at the old man, willing him to speak. His guts roiled at the thought of giving over his measly possessions. He had lost his bag at some point during his flight through Oaksville, but he still wore the steel bracelet around his wrist. It was all he had left of his parents.

  “What’s your name?” Alastair asked suddenly.

  “Thaster.” The Baronian grinned, apparently unconcerned by Alastair’s change of tact. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have business elsewhere. You’ve come from Oaksville, have you?”

  Eric shivered as greed flickered across Thaster’s face. It was clear what the man’s intentions were, why the Baronians had ventured so close to Oaksville. The pillars of smoke staining the sky behind them made it clear something had happened to the town. Looking around at the men of Thaster’s tribe, Eric prayed there would be enough fighters left in Oaksville to repel the raiders.

  He didn’t like their chances though.

  “Where we’ve come from is none of your business, Baronian,” Alastair was speaking again, “Now, out of my way. I have no intention of providing any more funds for your misdeeds.”

  Steel rasped on leather as Alastair slowly drew his sword from its sheath. Eric gaped, his heart lurching in his chest. For a moment, Thaster stared at the old man in obvious disbelief. But his hesitation only lasted a second. Reaching up, he drew his greatsword.

  “Very well, old man,” Thaster grinned and glanced back at his men. “Take care of...”

  Thaster’s voice trailed off as the distant pounding of horse hooves reached them. Thaster frowned, shifting to stare down the road towards Oaksville. A few of the black-garbed bandits faded into the trees, and several of the bowmen shifted their aim, waiting for the horsemen to appear.

  “Bring friends, did you?” Thaster growled. “Pity they’re too late. Hunter, Laurel, put an arrow in their hearts.”

  Eric flinched and closed his eyes as bowstrings twanged. There was no time to move, to throw himself to the side. Helpless, he waited for the sharp steel to tear through his flesh. But it did not come. A heavy silence fell over the road, broken only by the thunder of approaching horses.

  Opening his eyes, Eric looked around. Alastair still sat comfortably in his saddle, his hand outstretched towards Thaster. Hovering in the air between them were two steel tipped arrows.

  As Eric gaped, Alastair flicked his wrist, and the arrows went spinning off into the trees.

  “Out of the way,” Alastair growled. As he spoke, an invisible force seemed to strike the crowd of Baronians, sending them all stumbling backwards a step.

  Thaster’s face had paled to white in a space of a second, but he straightened now. A scowl twisted his lips as he looked around and saw his men shrinking from the old man. “Cowards!” he screamed. “Fire! Kill him!”

  But suddenly the pounding hooves were right on top of them, and twisting in the saddle Eric watched as two-dozen horsemen barrelled around the corner of the Gods’ road. A twinge of panic twisted in his chest as he saw the man in the lead – the same man that had accosted them in the alleyway. His eyes were dark with hate as he kicked at his foam-flecked horse, urging the poor beast on.

  Then arrows flashed through the air, and several horses went down in a tangle of thrashing limbs and hooves. The man from the alleyway looked up and dragged on his reins, turning his horse a fraction, and the arrows went shrieking past him. Drawing a short sword from his belt, he drove his horse at the nearest Baronian.

  As Eric turned back towards the wagons, a horse crashed sidelong into Briar, driving him from the centre of the road. Crying out, Eric tugged at the reins struggling to control his mount. He ducked as an arrow hissed past his head, then swung to face the other horseman.

  “Come on!” Alastair yelled as Elcano slammed into Briar again, sending them staggering towards the trees.

  Alastair’s brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched tight, his hands raised above his head. But Elcano seemed to be obeying some unspoken instruction. He leapt at the bandits to their left, scattering them from his path, and then raced into the woods. Before Eric could so much as dig in his heels, Briar sprang after him.

  Eric crouched low in the saddle as a wall of greenery loomed. Then he was amidst the trees, clinging to the saddle with everything he had, desperately trying to follow Elcano’s path through the trees. Ahead, Alastair sat slumped in the saddle now, his head bent, but still he did not slow.

  Branches flashed at Eric’s face as they tore through the shrubbery, threatening to hurl him from the saddle. His ears throbbed with the erratic beat of his heart, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He still could not believe what he had just seen. The man from the alleyway – Gabriel he remembered his name now – had followed them, had chased them all the way from Oaksville.

  And, impossibly, Alastair had stopped two arrows mid-flight.

  But there was no time to consider either now, and keeping low in the saddle, he tried to avoid the branches flashing for his face. He had no hope of controlling the horse now, but ahead he saw Alastair finally pulling back on Elcano’s reins.

  With a low whinny, the horse drew to a stop, and to Eric’s relief, Briar did the same. Still gasping for air, Eric slid from the saddle. His legs crumpled as they touched the ground, their strength exhausted. A swarm of insects rose up to meet him, biting mercilessly at his skin, but in that moment he didn’t care. He grasped at the damp ground, drawing reassurance from its firmness, and looked up at Alastair.

  A distant scream carried through the trees, and Eric turned to stare back in the direction of the road. There was no sign of movement, and slowly the far-off sounds of clanging metal faded away. Facing Alastair again, his anger flickered into life. What had the old man been playing at on the road, baiting the Baronians like that?

  “What the hell–” the words died in his throat as he saw the arrow embedded in Alastair’s shoulder.

  Alastair swayed in the saddle, his face pale, his brow creased. With painstaking slowness, he lifted his leg and swung himself down from Elcano. He staggered away from the horse and slumped against a tree, then slowly slid to the ground.

  “Are you okay?” Eric breathed. He climbed to his feet and took a hesitant step towards Alastair.

  The old man shook his head. Closing his eyes, he reached up and took a hold of the arrow. In one smooth movement, he tore it from his shoulder and hurled it into the trees. Eric stared as blood began to ooze from the ragged wound it had left.

  “What… what happened back there?” Eric stammered.

  Grimacing, Alastair opened his eyes and glanced at him. “Magic,” he muttered. “Except the Baronians must have had a Magicker of their own, one with power over the Light. Something interfered with my power, there at the end.”

  “The Light?” Eric frowned. He hadn’t understood half of what the old man had said. “You’re a Magicker?”

  The old man forced a smile. “Ay, Eric,” Alastair replied. “And so are you.”

  Gabriel gasped as he struck the ground. The force of the impact drove the air from his lungs, flooding his chest with pain, but instinctively he rolled to the side, carrying him clear of his thrashing horse. It kicked and screamed on the ground beside him, a black-shafted arrow embedded in its broad chest. Other horses stampeded around him as his men attempted to defend themselves against the hoard of Baronians.

  He scrambled in the mud for his sword as another horse screamed and went down. His fingers clenched around the hilt, and then he was back on his feet, swinging to meet the first of the black-garbed bandits. The rain of arrows had ceased as the men in the trees raced to join the battle, but they had already done their job. Half his men were down, the others either unhorsed or surrounded.

  Swearing, Gabriel swung at the nearest Baronian, but the man leapt from his blade’s path and started to laugh. Gabriel gritted his teeth and went after him, painfully aware of his inexperience in combat. He had never been in a real swordfight before. His only experience came from playing with his father’s blade when the forge was quiet. Still, work as a blacksmith had made him strong, and he had no intention of dying easily.

  Fight.

  The thought swept through his mind, lighting a fire in his chest. A surge of adrenaline added strength to his weary limbs, and with a growl he swung again at the Baronian. This time the Baronian was not quick enough to retreat, and raising his axe he caught the tip of Gabriel’s sword on his blade. Clenching his fist, Gabriel drove forward, freeing the blade and sending it deep into the man’s chest.

  The axe slid from the Baronian’s fingers as he staggered backwards. For a second he clutched at his chest, trying to stem the bleeding, before he toppled face first to the ground. Elation swept through Gabriel, washing away the fear. Grinning, he stepped over the body and searched for his next opponent.

  Kill.

  Blood pounded in his head, and his vision flickered red. He snarled as another Baronian charged him, his battle axe swinging for Gabriel’s face. Ducking the decapitating blow, he rushed forward and punched out with his short sword.

  The axeman twisted at the last moment, then his fist flashed out to catch Gabriel in the cheek. The blow caught Gabriel off-balance and he tumbled backwards. His vision spun as he struck the ground and rolled. He heard the thunk of an axe striking dirt. Before the man could try again he kicked out, and felt a satisfying thud as he knocked the axeman’s feet out from beneath him.

  Ignoring the pain in his face, Gabriel gathered himself and dove on his attacker. His sword had been lost when he fell, but he slammed a fist into the man’s face before he could raise his hands to defend himself. The power behind the blow slammed the Baronian’s head back into the hard-packed earth. Then he surged back against Gabriel, struggling to throw off the blacksmith. But in close quarters, he was no match for Gabriel’s muscular bulk.

  Grinning, Gabriel reached out and wrapped his fingers around his foe’s throat. Panic flashed across the man’s coal-speckled eyes, and his arms flailed, trying to break Gabriel’s steely grip. Veins bulged on his forehead as he wheezed, frantically trying to draw breath.

  Watching the light fade from the man’s eyes, Gabriel felt a thrill of exhilaration. He found himself joying in his newfound strength, in this power to give or take life. As the man sagged in his grip, Gabriel began to laugh. Finally releasing the man, he straightened and looked around.

  The dead and the dying covered the road, and nearby the last of the townsfolk were fighting back to back. Beyond them, more Baronian’s stood amidst their dozen wagons, their attention fixed on two fleeing horsemen. Gabriel caught a glimpse of grey hair and a flash of youthful blue eyes, before the horses vanished into the trees.

  His gut clenched with rage. There was no mistaking them – it was the old man and boy from the alleyway.

  So close!

  Gabriel’s hands shook as he picked up his sword and stumbled to his feet. His clash with the Baronians had carried him clear of the conflict that had engulfed his comrades, but now he stood on the opposite side of the road to where his quarry had vanished. And somehow they had found horses, while he now found himself on foot.

  Cursing, Gabriel gripped his sword tighter and stepped towards the press of bodies. He would fight his way through, or die trying.

  A blinding light flashed across his vision, and he staggered backwards, pain lancing through his forehead. When he looked again at the road, it seemed a dark figure hovered over him, a ghost or demon from the other side. The figure leaned towards him, stretching out a pale hand.

  Go back!

  Then it was gone. Gabriel stood for a second longer, his whole body trembling with terror. Sucking in a breath, he tried to find the rage, the hatred that had driven him so far. But there was only fear now, only an empty, unmanly cowardice.

  He stumbled backwards, retreating from the sound of clashing swords and screaming men. As he reached the trees, he saw the last of his comrades stumble backwards, a sword embedded in his chest. Their eyes caught across the distance as the man sagged to his knees. His mouth opened in a silent cry, and then he was gone.

  Gabriel choked and looked away. Guilt twisted in his stomach as he fled into the trees. He waited for the screams to follow him, for the shouts as the Baronians gave chase. Gasping for breath, he leapt over a half-rotten tree trunk and staggered on.

  Only after a few minutes did Gabriel realise no one was following him. He stumbled to a stop and turned back towards the road, listening for the sound of pursuit.

  But there was nothing. An eerie quiet hung over the woods. The trees were still; not even a breath of wind stirred the branches overhead. The buzz of insects and the chirping of birds had been silenced. Beneath the thick canopy, the world was cast in shadows. They seemed to press in around Gabriel as he turned, suddenly unsure of which direction he’d come from.