Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (57 page)

Janantar, with his keener sight, told him there was greater detail in the working of the houses and the streets than could be seen by Andrak, which was surprising, but at least these Dak’marians had an eye for nice things too. From what he knew, and deduced from their meetings with these people, they were fiercely honorable, thus the lack of brigands on the roads, and they were very introverted. They were without a doubt tough, as living in these harsh conditions make you over time, and Andrak knew their history was steeped in war and battle.

The most notable thing about the Blood Peaks was the lack of houses along the roads, though the land was rough and rocky in most places. Andrak assumed it was for protective reasons. Being a region historically beset by war, there was little sense in having a house out of the main cities for fear of having it destroyed. This accounted for why the seven big cities of Dak'mar were highly populated, and, as Andrak saw first with Orin, and later Sha'kar, enormous.

Sha'kar rose above the Blood Peaks, an intimidating wall of dark stone and rising towers that made Orin seem like a village. The outer wall was huge, with thick pilasters giving it strength at regular intervals. It was at least thirty feet high, and crenellated for archers and protection from opposing missiles. Flat topped towers rose above each pilaster, atop which sat great Catapults and ballista. Small figures could be seen moving amongst the great crenellations of the walls and towers, while low cloud seemed to hang over the city like a shroud.

“
Now that is an impressive sight,” conceded Janantar, his keen eyes running over the city. It was a great compliment coming from him, who lived in the most beautiful place on Kil'Tar, but Andrak knew it wasn't because of the beauty of the city, for it was nothing if not dark and menacing, but he knew it was for the sheer enormity and power of the city.

“
I had known it was big, but not that big. Thorhus could fit twice inside its walls, from the looks of it.” Andrak was truly impressed with the size of the city also, and wondered silently what need there was for such a fortified city. What manner of creature, if not man, had made a need for such protection? Or was it a simple show of strength from a vain and fickle ruler? He knew of the ruler of the city: the Sovereign, Werstoff, from the line of Dara'Tar, and had not heard him to be a vain man, nor was the Emperor of Dak'mar, Karistaar.

“
Shall we?” asked Janantar, turning to Andrak, who turned to the Elf and nodded. He turned back to the city, so strange and intimidating, and knew in his heart Kitara was in there somewhere, and he vowed he would see her safe, even if it meant his own life.

Valdieron
wiped the sweat from his face again, but it seemed like a worthless task. The midday sun beat down on him furiously, and he was struggling to stay in the saddle at times as Shakk carefully negotiated the rocky path. For the last several nights he had been having strange visions in his sleep, even when in Kel'Valor, though they were more distant then, and came more as spectral visions and voices. Predominantly he saw himself, carrying a bloodied sword, and the dead figure of the Bloodguard from Altaire lying at his feet. There were also fleeting glimpses of Kitara in varying states of torture and pain, and a darker, shadowy figure who taunted Valdieron with his wicked laugh, as if mocking his actions or reveling in what was happening to Kitara. They faded on waking, but left him drained as he tried to drive them from his memories, without success.

Ahead, Javin rode Firefox, seeming more comfortable in the heat, for he was from the harsh plains of Darishi, and no stranger to the burning heat. Still, his clothes were soaked with his own perspiration, and he was slumped over in the saddle, drained of energy.

For almost a full cycle of Qantari, they had ridden uneasily south, away from the troubled memories of Altaire and any possible repercussions from the law. They had entered Dak'mar without problem. This brought with it its own problems however, the biggest of which was their lack of money. They had spent all of what they had on provisions for the trip, and had little left. Not that there was any need for money on the desolate roads of Dak'mar, and if needed, they could forage for what small fare the harsh terrain offered. They knew, however, that once in Sha'kar, they would need money. They had decided the need for anonymity was going to be important, and thus discontinued their martial performances, instead posing as a young Dak'marian and his out of town friend.

“
Over here. I think we can rest. There is water.” Valdieron vaguely heard Javin, but Shakk followed Firefox to a shallow rock bowl, protected on two sides by a steep rocky outcrops. A trickle of water flowed from one of the rock faces, and gathered in a depression at the base. With their water depleted, the sight was more than welcome.

“
Are you all right, Val?” asked Javin, appearing at Valdieron's side as he dismounted slowly. The Darishi had been quiet since the incident at Altaire, for which Valdieron was thankful, though he had already justified his actions to himself for the death of the Ashar'an. The most painful memory to him was the death of Kaz.

“
Yeah, fine. Just hot, that's all.” Javin accepted the lie with a worried nod, but led Valdieron to the pool. Kneeling, Valdieron scooped some of the surprisingly cold water up to drink. It had a vague acrid scent to it, which Valdieron assumed was from the minerals of the earth it accumulated with its passing, but it was still pleasant to drink. It was deep enough he was able to fill his water bottle, then he splashed his face and hair before rising so Javin could drink.

“
Let's water the horses, then rest. It is cool and shaded here.”

Javin nodded as he rose. Water sprayed from his hair as he flicked his head backwards and wiped his mouth with a contented sigh. The horses drank thirstily, and then were given some feed from their dangerously depleted supply, resting in the shade for a much earned respite from the hot sun.

Valdieron sat beside Javin and wrung out the soaked shirt he had been using to wipe himself down, then leant back, closing his eyes against the glare of the day. His head was aching dully, probably a result of the heat combined with his lack of quality sleep recently. He kneaded his forehead softly, trying to soothe the ache, but it didn't seem to help.

He came awake with a start as a faint voice echoed in his mind. It had been the spectral figure from his dreams, taunting him again with words and insipid laughter. He was sweating, but it was a cold sweat, despite the heat. It felt as if he had only dozed for a few moments. The horses were still standing together, heads lowered also against the heat, as if sleeping. Looking over at Javin, he saw the Darishi was asleep also. Rising, he grimaced at a bitter taste in his mouth, and would have spat if his mouth weren’t so dry.

“
Come on, Javin. Time to get going. We can sleep later.”

The Darishi didn't move, and Valdieron smiled and moved to nudge him with his foot when a clatter of rocks made him spin. His sword was out quickly, as seven armed men circling the small bowl greeted him. Five carried swords, and wore faded leather armor, while two others leveled crossbows at him, and while they didn't look to be the best quality weapons, it probably wouldn't matter at that distance.

“
Put your weapon down, lad. We're not murderers, but we'll not have you sticking us with it.”

“
Who are you?” asked Valdieron cautiously, not making a move to lower his weapon as he studied his predicament. He spoke loud, more than loud enough to have woken Javin, but the Darishi remained unmoved. Hoping he was merely feigning sleep, Valdieron waited. That these people were brigands was obvious, and although young and unkempt, they carried themselves with the practiced ease of men who lived on the other side of the law. They were all Dak'marians, tanned of skin already brown, and with hair also dark, from browns to blacks.

“
Just the local weapons collectors.” The man who had addressed him first spoke again, and Valdieron marked him as the leader, a handsome if dirty man of about thirty years, lean and tall with a hard body. His comment brought amused chuckles from the others, and his wide smile showed missing teeth. “We'll relieve you and your drugged friend of your weapons, plus any jewelry and coins you have, and then we'll take your horses and let you go. Does that sound like a reasonable offer?” This brought another laugh from his cronies.

Drugged! Well it explained the bitter taste in his mouth. He had thought the water was just rich with minerals from the rock, but obviously these men weren't as stupid as they looked. The pool wasn't refilled quickly enough to have washed away any poison they might have put in it that morning. It also explained why the horses were also asleep, for they would have drunk much more than he or Javin.

“
I have an offer for you. Take your cronies and return to the city, and when I get there, I won't report this little incident to my father.” Trying to use the element of doubt, Valdieron raised his sword to show its quality. Maybe if these men thought he was the son of somebody important from the city, they might have second thoughts about attacking.

It seemed like it might have worked, the young leader frowning in deliberation, but then a cocky smile lit his face, and he began to laugh, the others joining in. “And what are you going to do about it if we attack, little man?”

Valdieron's face set at the man's challenge, but it wasn't the brigand's laughter or voice he heard, but the figure who haunted his sleep. Mocking him. Challenging his skills, his courage, his commitment.

With his sword raised, Valdieron was able to maneuver it slightly to catch the sun. It took only a slight twist of his wrist to get it into position.

“
Aghhh-” The crossbowman to the right cried out as the reflected sun off Valdieron's sword caught his eyes. At the same time, Valdieron's arm dropped, sending his weapon spinning towards the left crossbowman. Taken by surprise, and wondering what it was that had attacked his companion, the crossbowman had turned hesitantly to see if somebody else was attacking them. When his eyes turned back to Valdieron, he barely caught a glimpse of the sword that caught him in the face, the heavy pommel smashing his nose, his crossbow firing high and away as he stumbled back, tripping on a rock, dazed and prone.

No doubt stunned at the unexpected attack, Valdieron was on the bandits before they could organize a proper attack. He caught the hands of their leader and pulled down, twisting the sword past his body and pulling him off balance. He spun, using the man as a shield against the two on his right, while using his left hand to snap at the elbow of the man's sword arm. There was a soft cracking and the man gave a painful cry as Valdieron spun him and sent him careening into the two men on his left, levering his sword from his hand as he did.

If all of his many hours against Javin and in the combat Ambit paid off, it was then, as the clicking of a crossbow sounded off to his right. Spinning with necessary haste, his newfound sword came up and across as his eyes caught the speeding quarrel. It happened in a flash, so fast it took Valdieron a moment to realize he was not hurt as the sound of the quarrel's metal head striking stone sounded off to the side. He marveled at what he had just done, but fortunately so did his attackers, so as he continued his spin, his foot arced out behind him and connected squarely to the face of a bandit, sending his reeling away, his weapon flying from his hand.

Showing a desire to run, the three remaining armed bandits charged him, but not together, an indication of their stunned disbelief. Valdieron lunged forward, sweeping his sword across in a parry as the first bandit thrust at him in a run. The thrust blew wide, and the bandit tripped past, but Valdieron forgot about him as he lunged forward again with a long step, his sweeping sword continuing around his body where he changed hands, then brought it forward to thrust at the second bandit, beating a desperate attempt at parry from the bandit who was both too slow and not skilled enough. Checking the blow, Valdieron thrust through the man's right shoulder, high enough not to be mortal, but low enough to miss bone and incapacitate. The man screamed in pain, his sword dropping from a now lifeless hand. Valdieron caught it with his right hand and brought it up to smash his fist into the man's face, knocking him away, and helping to tear his other sword free with a spray of blood.

Three swordsmen surrounded him now, for the crossbowman he had blinded momentarily had chosen to draw his sword and attack. The other crossbowman was rising unsteadily, holding his head in his hands, not even trying to reload, while the leader was still kneeling, cradling his snapped arm.

With a cry, Valdieron set his swords into motion, dancing into the midst of the brigands, reveling in the challenge of the battle. He fought with determination, and a desire to prove both to himself and the inner demons that he wasn't worthless and unprepared.

In only a few moments, one of them was disarmed and bleeding badly from several cuts, while another had at least one, possibly two to three broken ribs. Both withdrew, and Valdieron let them go as he engaged the last man.

“
Leave it!” His commanding shout stopped the first bowman who had stooped to pick up Valdieron's sword. He looked up to find one of Valdieron's swords leveled at him while he easily fought off the swordsman he was engaged with. Taking a look from Valdieron to the sword and back to Valdieron, he wisely rose and slipped off into the rocks.

The last bandit was disarmed quickly, and the man dropped to his knees and began to beg for his life. “Please don't kill me! It was Arturan who made us do this. We have hungry families!”