Of Sun & Silver
(from Chapter 2)
The land beneath Storm’s hooves turned to rocks and dirt. The cave where Jacko Grauer preferred to dwell was just ahead. Torches lit the way.
“Do you think he is still here?” Aldwulf asked from Trotter’s back.
The mouth of the cavern came into vision. Two of Grauer’s flunkies were standing guard just outside.
“He’ll be here.”
“Come no further!” shouted a guttural voice.
The rocky path was flanked by high cliffs, and men were already standing atop them with spears at the ready. Casimira continued through without fear.
“The two of yee short of hearing?”
Casimira stopped Storm a few yards shy of the cavern’s entrance. “I come to speak with Jacko Grauer.”
“Never heard of em.”
She reached out a gloved hand, and Aldwulf placed a pouch of coins in it. “I will remove a coin for every moment that you stall. Tell him Casimira Aldora is here, and that she is not in a patient mood to—”
“The Crim Reaper knocks at our door…” said a gravelly voice from inside the cave. “I dare not let her inside.”
Grauer appeared seconds later, his face unmistakable. He had a bald head covered with blue and black tattoos—various shapes and symbols running down both eyes and across his jaw, as well as pointy wings on his forehead. His bony fingers were decorated with colorful gems, which he’d surely swiped off of corpses.
Casimira had once sliced his nose off with a sword. Most of it had grown back, albeit much slower due to Grauer being only half-vampire. It currently looked like a pressed-in mound of flesh with two holes for nostrils.
His cold red eyes narrowed at the intruders. “You come here to die, turncoat, did you?”
“Came here for questions only,” Casimira replied, “but prepared to spill blood if I have to.”
“You can’t buy me, Reaper. You would need a mountain of gold to stop me from killing you.”
“You know you can’t, Grauer.”
“I can! I owe you one… it’s been six years. My nose still doesn’t look the same.”
“You’re lucky it was only your nose. Take the coin or don’t, but you will answer my questions.”
Grauer folded his arms as he laughed. “Look around you, Reaper… I have two times the men I once had. Thieves, killers, and warriors the likes of which you have never faced bef—”
Casimira jerked her arm to let the concealed blade she’d tucked away in her armor fall into her hand. She flung it at Grauer, piercing him through his right shoulder. His screams echoed through the cavern behind him.
“You always choose bloodshed, Mira, don’t you?” Aldwulf grunted as he pulled his sword.
“I weighed the odds. I like them.”
Grauer’s men charged forward with blades of their own. Casimira disarmed the first one, ducked the blade of the second, and then took both of them out with a sword swipe behind their ankles. They fell hard on their backs.
Spears rained down from above. Aldwulf grabbed the shield from Trotter’s back and raised it above his head. Only one pierced it, coming just a few inches from his eyeball.
Once they were out of spears, the men came down from the cliffs with weapons at the ready.
Two more men rushed out from the cavern. Casimira made short work of them, slicing them across their arms and chests and leaving them crippled and in pain.
One of the previous men tried to stand. Aldwulf whacked him across the jaw with his circular shield.
“Kill her!” Grauer roared as he ripped the dagger from his flesh and spiked it to the ground. “Kill them both!”
The men from the cliffs focused their attack on Casimira. She was so much quicker and more skilled, Dayseeker moving so blindingly fast that the men didn’t stand a chance. She slashed one of them across the neck, dropping him dead beside the several injured.
Seeing what they were up against, those who were able wisely retreated. A few remained down, one unconscious, the other slowly crawling away.
“Cowards!” Grauer shouted after them. “Come back!”
Casimira walked toward him, her black boots against crumbling rocks.
Grauer pulled a short-sword from his hip in a hopeless attempt. He swung once—Casimira swatted him away. He tried twice—she sidestepped his blade. He tried one more time, bringing down his sword for her helmet. She took a quick step to the right and swung Dayseeker upward. Grauer’s arm and sword spiraled through the air.
More screams…
He fell to his knees and cursed the name Casimira Aldora.
Aldwulf moved inside the cavern and ensured that they were alone. The den contained mostly stolen valuables, a wagon full of rotten meat, a few cots, and heaps and heaps of ale. He deemed it clear.
Casimira pulled off her helmet and set it on the ground beside Grauer’s severed arm.
“This is trespassing,” Grauer said through clenched teeth. “You are trespassing!”
“Was this cave granted to you by the good King Kenhelm?”
“Your so-trusted friend,” Grauer spat. “Black Angel, Casimira Aldora—turncoat to her own family, her own kind, all to help the bloody humans.”
Casimira placed Dayseeker inside the flesh of Grauer’s missing forearm. His harrowed shouts filled the cave. Steam swirled out from bubbling flesh.
“What do—what do you want?” he groaned with his eyes squeezed shut.
“What happened in Harthic?”
“What kind of birdbrained question is that?! Don’t you know the answer already?”
“Who attacked the village? Who gave the order? And before you tell me that you don’t know…” She held the tip of Dayseeker just inches from his disfigured nose.
“No, please! There’s finally been progress! It’s almost back! I will tell you what I know!”
“Go on.”
Grauer’s red eyes shifted back and forth in their deep sockets He hated them both. He hated everyone.
“I had nothing to do with the attacks on Harthic, but a nobleman did come to me with questions about a House DeVries.”
Casimira had heard of them. House DeVries was one of the rising houses across the Great Ocean. Aside from the name and their violent reputation, she didn’t know that much about them.
Aldwulf only shrugged when she looked to him for further explanation.
“A nobleman from where?”
“Based on his coat of arms, me thinks he hailed from the Kingdom of Korin.”
“You saw sea snakes?” Aldwulf asked. Their coat of arms was a green-blue snake with a long, hissing tongue.
“It was on his pendant,” Grauer replied. “Oval-shaped, green, had some holy words about the Creator across it. He also had an eastern-born accent. A strong, aggravating poshness to his delivery.”
“Why would holy men from Korin have interest in House DeVries?”
“Do I really have to say it?”
It meant that man and vampire may have colluded together, but the lands of the Argent Reach, one of the three kingdoms of Kilthgar, had no reason to attack villages of the Golden Province. Kings Kenhelm, Warrok the Wise, and the new Queen Vettia were on good terms; their families had been since their great victory in the Uprising. A fracture in their alliance meant weakness—one they couldn’t afford to have.
“That’s all that I know.” Grauer shrugged. “Nobleman—holy man, whatever—struts in, asks some questions, I tell him what little I know of the DeVrieses, and he goes on his way. One week later, Harthic is attacked by vampires, probably the ones he paid.”
“I don’t know if I believe a word he’s saying,” Aldwulf said. “None of it makes sense.”
“I’ll gut you, old man. Don’t doubt the words of truth.”
“Did he give you a name?” Casimira asked.
“Of course not. Gave me this.” He picked up his severed arm and showed them a shiny ruby on the thumb. “Eyes off. It’s mine.”
“What’d he look like?”
“Tall… old fellow. White hair, white of skin. Smelled of gold.”
Casimira exhaled in frustration. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “You’re not lying to us, are you, Grauer?”
“I have no one to protect but my own self… same as it’s always been. All I know is that something is amiss, and may your Great Creator strike me down, Abbot, if there is not a follow-up attack in the coming days.”
Casimira sheathed Dayseeker on her right hip and picked up her helmet. “Anything else? If I find out that you lied, I’ll be back to pay you a final visit.”
“I won’t be here.”
Casimira and Aldwulf exited the cavern and went to their horses.
“Leave the coin!” Grauer shouted after them.
Casimira sliced off the top of the pouch, revealing nothing but rocks.
Grauer rushed to the man whose neck had been slashed by Casimira and drank from the open wound. The blood would help him regain his strength.
The riders were far out of sight now, traveling from whence they came. Grauer loudly cursed Casimira’s name again, his cries lost to the valley.
Blades of Alaroth
A War of Shields
AGE 959 / LUCAN
The distant screams of his fellow villagers sounded from behind him. Lucan could still feel the heat and smell the smoke from the burning trees and homes of Dorramor. Obeying the dying cries of his mother to run, Lucan continued sprinting through the forests as fast as he could.
Cradled to his chest was his infant brother, Oaklee. Lucan didn’t see anyone else escape. They were on their own now.
“Save him. Save your brother,” his mother cried, and Lucan grabbed Oaklee and ran as fast as he could.
An arrow whisked over his shoulder, nearly catching the pointy tip of his ear. The barbarians that burned down his village were giving them chase.
“Don’t let the wood elves get away!” one of them shouted, his powerful voice booming through the thick trees.
Lucan had grown up in the forests of Dorramor. He was an expert climber and the woodlands gave him a major advantage over his pursuers. The barbarians were loud, armored, and clumsy. He was confident he could lose them, he just didn’t know where he was going. The only thing that slightly slowed him down was that he was trying to see in the dead of night. Running into a tree or tripping over a fallen log could cost both his and his brother’s lives. With tears stinging in his eyes, he kept running, ignoring the sharp pains at the soles of his bare feet.
Another arrow soared over his head and slammed into the oak tree a few feet in front of him. Lucan diverted his path between two tall trees. He had to lose them—he would lose them—but he and Oaklee wouldn’t last long alone in the forests tired and hungry. His optimistic hopes took a nosedive once he heard the loud barks of the hounds.
“Bring us back some copper bloods!”
The fast moving paws broke against the forest floor, getting closer and closer at an increasing pace. Soon they’d be on top of him.
Lucan focused on the treetops. Hiding was now his only chance. He ran behind a massive tree and rested his back against it to catch his breath for a moment. Oaklee’s eyes were open and looking up at him. They were a dark and colorful green. Lucan would never leave him, but climbing up the tree would be near-impossible with just one arm. Thinking on his toes, Lucan removed the black leather belt from his pants and began securing Oaklee around his skinny waist. The little bump made it difficult to breathe, but his brother was fairly secure against him. The hounds closing in, Lucan began climbing. He made quick work of the tree, ascending branch by branch in a matter of seconds. He stopped on a long branch once Oaklee started coming loose. There he sat and waited.
The hounds began sniffing around the several surrounding trees. Lucan hoped the mud that covered his body would mask his scent as he hugged his brother close.
Oaklee never made a peep. His baby brother rarely even cried. Ensuring he’d remain that way, Lucan slightly rocked him back and forth like his mother used to do. He put a finger to his small lips and whispered to be silent. Oaklee couldn’t understand him, but Lucan did it anyway.
The barbarians gathered near the bottom of the tree. They were so tall, so giant in their hefty armor. He’d never seen anything like them before and they terrified him.
Keep going, Lucan thought. Please. Just keep going, keep going, keep going…
“Hounds think they’re in this area.”
“Then they must be. Little bastards can climb trees like spiders.”
“Well, if they are, we aren’t going to wait forever till they come down, are we?”
Lucan carefully peered over the ledge, seeing the torches lighting up the faces of the savage men. There were four of them in total, all bearded and bulked up by leather armor. Their weapons were still wet with the blood of his people.