The noble scars, p.43
The Noble Scars, page 43
“Very well then,” said the wizard, his teeth gritted, his bulbous white eyes narrowing. “Let us retreat to the castle. After this day, Noble will be altered forever.”
Zerin defeated the rest of the ambush. Dripping in blood, he snuck through the diminishing flames and re-joined his troops—greeted first by Galvin and Escura—to the welcome of resounding cheers.
“We’ve won nothing yet, men,” he said. “Galvin, to those gates.”
“Aye, Zerin,” the giant said.
Under the attack of arrows, boulders, and boiling oil, Galvin and his men repeatedly rammed the city gates. The large wooden doors were held by vast metal hinges and locked with a thick oaken beam that slid through brackets on the inside; a barricade that had never been threatened until now.
The gates were weakening, but then so was the tower. It had caught aflame, and many of the men pushing it had been burned, boiled, or shot. But each time a man went down, another brave soul would rush in to take his place. The success of the siege lay with the tower and its ability to take down the gates. Without it, the advantage of numbers they had achieved at the River Onx would be for naught.
Escura himself had raised several ladders to climb the walls, only to have them pushed back, again and again. They had the numbers to secure the victory, but if they couldn’t get beyond the wall, the battle would be lost here.
“Zerin!” Escura called out. “We’re losing numbers. We must breach the gate.”
“I know. Have faith in Galvin. He’s almost through.”
The doors were cracking. One more collision, and they would be through.
Galvin and his men braced their shields overhead and brought back the ram one more time, ready to smash it through the gates so the multitude of warriors could charge through and take the city. However, just as they readied for the final assault, one of the wheels that had been weakened from the flames broke off. The entire ram collapsed to the ground, trapping several men under it. A cheer from inside the walls could be heard, and then the squadron leader gave their bowmen a final command.
“Lock your bows, men. Fire on my mark.”
“No!” Zerin yelled.
His entire army had crowded outside the gates, anticipating the downfall. They had to get in the city now or die at its doorstep. The outcome of the battle would turn in the next moment.
Just then, Zerin heard a thunderous, howling voice—the Brakton Battle Cry.
With shield in one hand and axe in the other, the giant stood up from behind the tower and bellowed loud enough to scare the underworld itself.
He charged the gates by himself, arrows zinging by his head. One pierced his shoulder, but he carried on. Oil splashed at his feet, feeding the ten-foot-high flames he was running through. The collapsed tower shook at the thunder of his passing steps. He held his battle cry the entire way until he reached the entrance where he lowered his shoulder and plowed his mass into the thick oak gates of LionBerg. With a crack that could be heard throughout the entire city, the bar snapped in two.
One of the doors swung open like a tent flap, and the other came clean off its hinges, falling backward against the soldiers who were bracing it on the other side. Many of the bowmen on top of the walls fell to the ground from the resonance of the impact.
“Charge!” Escura yelled.
Zerin’s army stormed the city gates, overwhelming Bardek’s forces. Neither Zerin nor Galvin were at their best, both hindered from injuries, but neither needed to be.
Escura led the assault, cutting down soldier after soldier, striking terror in the hearts of their enemy, never once stopping to wipe the blood spatter from his face and mouth. They hacked their way through LionBerg in the formation of an arrowhead with the pirate at the point.
Before long, they stood in front of the castle. Lying between them were the moat, drawbridge, and locked gates. On the other side was the remainder of Bardek’s forces, waiting for Zerin and his army, instructed to protect the castle at all costs despite their inferior numbers. The wizard had told them to hold their ground and that help would be on the way. What help, they couldn’t imagine, but such was their fear of the unearthly wizard that no man abandoned his post.
Zerin approached the gates, searching for the best way to cross the moat into the castle grounds when he saw clouds forming over the top of the castle, similar to the ones preceding the beast’s appearance in the plains. Then he remembered the ebony warrior’s warning that time was paramount. They must get to the castle, despite Maeldroth’s newest fabrication.
Chapter 65
Inside Castle StrongStone stood a fearful king wishing he could trade any of the priceless artifacts that surrounded him for a thousand more soldiers. The diminutive wizard stood beside him, in the midst of an incantation.
“You promised me victory, damn you!”
“Silence. My thoughts must be precise. The cycle has begun. There’s no turning back. Take me to where you killed King Janith twenty-four years ago.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” snapped the wizard. “I could write a full text on what you don’t understand, but if you want to live, then do as I say, and take me to where you killed the king and disregard anyone or anything you see outside the castle.”
“Is this the curse you spoke of, the one of dire consequence, the one you claimed you’d use only as a last resort?”
“Yes, and if you want to survive this day, you’ll do as I say.”
Bardek led Maeldroth through the corridors to the private chambers of King Janith in the west wing, where he and his queen had been killed twenty-four years earlier.
“Close the door behind us and brandish your sword.”
The king looked at him, bewildered.
“Just do it.”
The wizard dropped to his knees and continued his chanting. Bardek could hear the roar of the enemy outside his castle. If they were this close, then Zerin’s forces would break through shortly and overtake them. He prayed that the wizard’s actions, which he could make no sense of, would save their lives and his kingdom. He knew he shouldn’t interrupt the wizard, but his trepidation was overwhelming.
“What are you doing, Maeldroth?”
“I’m placing a protective invocation around the castle. Everyone within will be safe. Everyone outside will not be. But here, in this room, we shall restore order to your rule.”
As Maeldroth and Bardek conspired where the treachery began twenty-four years ago, Zerin, Galvin, and Escura tossed ropes with grappling hooks toward the drawbridge and brought it down.
Standing before them in the courtyard, defending the castle, was the remainder of Bardek’s troops. Zerin thought it strange they wouldn’t defend the drawbridge, but he didn’t know the soldiers were acting under Maeldroth’s command.
They crossed the drawbridge and attacked the remaining forces in front of the castle. Galvin, Escura, and Zerin, despite his injuries, made strong headway through the mob toward the entrance before Galvin stopped.
“Zerin, above, do you see the clouds?”
Zerin looked up. “Aye, we must hurry.”
The three fought through until they reached the castle doors. They rushed inside, leaving the battle to rage on behind them. Zerin knew it was only a matter of time before his forces were victorious, so he moved on, leaving Robertson to finish without them. He, Galvin, and Escura had other issues to attend to.
Then, suddenly, lightning fired from the cloud, striking the middle of the courtyard; the sound was deafening. The three warriors looked out from inside the castle doorway but saw nothing except the haze that the bolt left in its wake. The battle was raging on no more than twenty paces from where they stood, yet they could hear nothing.
Once the haze cleared, what they saw defied rational explanation, what they witnessed was sorcery. Every single warrior and soldier in the fight was as still as the air, as if turned to statues, their lives placed on hold.
They stared for several moments, unable to comprehend the surreal image before them.
“Maeldroth!” Escura said.
Galvin went to walk outside to inspect the anomaly for himself.
“Hold where you are, Galvin,” Zerin insisted. “There’s nothing we can do here. Our calling is clear. We’re the only ones left. We must find Bardek, kill the wizard, and rescue Thia.”
“Aye,” Escura said. “We must kill Maeldroth.”
“Remember what we discussed. He cannot be killed while in spirit form.”
“Aye,” the pirate said.
“I’m sure this is only the beginning of the wizard’s scheme. We should split up,” Galvin suggested.
“I’ll head for the dungeons and the east corridors,” Escura said.
“We’ll take the west.”
Zerin watched as Escura eagerly ran off to find the wizard and exact a lifetime of revenge while he and Galvin sped off in the opposite direction, wondering if they’d ever see the pirate again.
~
In the chambers of the west wing, Bardek stood with his sword in hand while Maeldroth completed the spell he was convinced would finish their enemies for good.
“Hurry, Maeldroth!”
“The time to hurry has passed us, sire,” Maeldroth spoke calmly. “I’ve incapacitated everyone outside the castle while we on the inside remain safe.”
“Then why are we here, and what am I supposed to do?”
“For now, be patient. You’ll know your task when it presents itself.”
Bardek watched nervously, his grip on the hilt of his sword slipping as the inside of his gloves beaded with sweat. Then, lights, with no apparent source, flashed inside the chambers. A gust of wind began to blow, though there were no open windows, and a circle of smoke emerged, yet there was no fire. The smoke whirled and whirled until an opening, like the eye of a storm, developed in the middle of the room. A light burst from within, followed by more wind. Maeldroth continued the incantations, his hands high in the air, dueling with the forces of nature.
Bardek stood in front of the circle, watching images within the smoke fade in and out. He stared until the haze cleared and the images beyond were made obvious to him. He stood awed, disturbed, and at a loss to explain what he saw. There was a tall figure on the other side of the smoky circle, someone he recognized; someone who was unaware of his presence. His attire was dated, but he held a familiar sword. As the circle widened and the person came into clearer view, Bardek shuddered and dropped his sword, gasping. He recognized the person as himself, but he was much younger, twenty-four years younger to be precise. Beneath him, lying on the floor, mortally wounded but still alive, was King Janith. This was the day of the great treachery. Scattered on the floor around him were the assassins he had hired to kill Janith, themselves dead.
In the corner, lying motionless, was the queen, no longer with child. Shelton was there, scrambling with a bundle of white cloth.
“Go!” Maeldroth yelled, screaming to be heard over the howling winds. “Into the circle. I cannot hold it for long. Finish what you started twenty-four years ago but do it right this time. Kill the king before he writes those scrolls.”
“How can this be? How have you done this?”
“I have mastered time itself. I have frozen it outside the castle and torn through its fabric in here. Now, go and finish the battle before it even starts.”
Bardek took a step toward the circle, which had become large enough to walk through. He marveled at the wonder in front of him, thinking it strange that the people on the other side, who he was close enough to touch, couldn’t see or hear him.
“Now!” Maeldroth yelled. “Go now!”
Bardek stepped forward, eager to execute the plan he’d failed to finish twenty-four years earlier, when suddenly, the doors to the chamber were crushed inward by a large boot. Bardek froze in his tracks as Zerin and Galvin burst in. They stared at the portal, even more astonished than they had been at the sight of the frozen battle in the courtyard, convinced their senses had betrayed them.
“Go, damn you!” screamed the wizard.
Zerin didn’t know what Bardek and Maeldroth were conspiring to do, but he knew he had to stop them. He lunged forward to intercept Bardek, knocking him to the ground, then turned to witness the events on the other side of the smoke-encased circle.
He saw Bardek, less than half his current age, raising his sword toward a man crouched in defeat and holding a white bundle with what seemed to be a child within it. Zerin could not comprehend the events before him, but he felt compelled to stop it. He leapt through the portal, igniting a brilliance that emanated on both sides. Just before young Bardek was about to smite the man holding the child, Zerin swung at him, crashing Bardek’s own sword against his head, cutting his flesh and knocking him to the ground, leaving him unconscious.
On the present side, Galvin raised his axe and charged the wizard, but before he could strike, Maeldroth thrust his hands toward him, freezing the giant’s weapon like was embedded in stone. But when Maeldroth’s focus was diverted from the portal, it began to close. Zerin could see the opening shrink from the other side, so he ran back through, returning to the present time.
Maeldroth, realizing the danger they were in, cast his hands at the two warriors and struck them with a force that twisted their innards, collapsing them to the floor. Bardek and Maeldroth fled the chambers, leaving the portal behind them.
When they got into the hallway, Bardek grabbed the wizard and threw him up against the wall.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“How dare you touch me! Remove your hands before I destroy you.”
“You imbecile, this is exactly how it happened the first time. I told you that a spirit-like being struck me down at that very moment. Do you not see that it was you who caused this? Without your stupid idea to pass through time, I would have killed Janith and his child before he could write the scrolls.”
“And what of the child? You told me you killed the child!”
“And what would you have done if you knew there was an heir, wizard? Would you have sought it out so you could replace me?”
“The forces of the white didn’t intervene to save the scrolls, you fool. They intervened to save that child! You should have told me, you coward!” The wizard fell against the wall, his gaze blank. “I was warned. I was warned not to disrupt time. Only the Usurper can do so,” he babbled.
“What do we do now?” Bardek demanded, removing his grip. “What do we do now, damn you?”
“I have one horror left,” the wizard said as his wits returned. “Let them follow us.”
Zerin and Galvin picked themselves up off the floor, ready to chase Bardek and the wizard, but instead, they stood mesmerized by the events taking place on the other side of the portal, which was shrinking but not yet closed.
“Zerin, that man on the floor who you just saved is—”
“It’s King Janith. This was the day of his assassination. If only we’d arrived earlier.”
Zerin lowered his sword, dismissing any idea of a chase. He stood watching the final moments of the king’s life unfold. Janith pulled out two blank scrolls and began to write. Zerin and Galvin gazed in wonderment as they watched the very scroll that had ended up in their hands being written before their eyes.
Janith finished both scrolls and handed them to his man in exchange for the bundle.
“That must be their child,” Galvin said. “Perhaps it lived.”
Galvin and Zerin stepped closer to the shrinking portal, watching Janith unroll the large bundle, but what they saw shattered any expectations that the wildest of their imaginations could have concocted. Lying before them, in that bundle, were the true Secrets of Noble.
Upon this large white cloth was not one child, but three, all of them male. It had been a mystery as to why the queen was as large as she was before her time.
They listened as Janith spoke. “Shelton, I need you to take my boys and hide them. Find homes for them, but make sure you separate them.” Janith turned his head upward. “I’ve never prayed for anything in my life, but now I do so to the god of these children’s mother, the Grand Spirit. Protect my sons and one day unite them, so they may avenge their parents’ death and take their place upon my throne.”
Then Janith took the largest of the three and placed him on the left. The oldest of the three, the immediate heir to the throne, he put in the middle, and the youngest one, the one with the birthmark—a blackened left eye—he placed on the right.
“So, you may know one another when you meet, I shall bestow upon you a scar that you and you alone will share. With this knife, I mark my children as the heirs of Noble.”
The king struggled to grip the handle, but with a blood-soaked hand, he dragged the blade across their legs, cutting deep enough to draw blood. He started on the left leg of the largest child, dragging it across both legs of the eldest child in the middle, and across the right leg of the youngest.
“Go now, Shelton, my faithful servant. Take these scrolls and hide my children.”
They watched as Shelton ran off. But just as the servant left the room, the king cursed, realizing one of the scrolls had been left behind. Janith crawled toward the wall until he found a dislodged brick. He jostled it from the base of the wall and hid the scroll behind it, then carefully put it back.
The portal closed, and they saw nothing else.
“The scars, Galvin, the scars we carry. We are his children. You are the large one. I am the oldest. We are brothers.”
“And there is a third, it can only be…”
“It must be Escura, the blackened eye. The prayer that King Janith, our father, spoke to the Grand Spirit, pleading to bring us together at the right time. We must find Escura,” Zerin said.
The giant stood there with a blank look on his face, pausing in a moment of disbelief.
“What is it?” Zerin asked.
