The Awakening (The Stones of Revenge) (25 page)

The air around him grew even colder and his body shivered uncontrollably. He needed
heat. From somewhere deep inside anger, frustration, and pain began to build. Landon could feel it growing in his stomach and flow towards the tips of his fingers. Every fiber of his being felt as if it was on fire; he was burning from the inside out yet it was turning to ice. At that instant, Landon saw from the corner of his eye the flames from the roof of the nearest house dance off the thatch work and fly straight towards him. His first reaction was fear, but he immediately remembered all of the tests Aldous and Aratus had put him through. He closed his eyes and focused his energy towards the flame. As he touched the outer band of the fire, his mind began to burn. But Landon held on. He wrapped his mind around the fire and grabbed it with all of his might.
This time he pulled with all of his might expecting resistance as before but it easily came to him. The flames splashed over him filling him with warmth. The instant he used his energy Landon regretted it. He had selfishly warmed himself instead of attacking his enemy. As soon as the heat dissipated he realized that he should have stopped the one in control of what was happening. It finally occurred to him. Just as he controlled fire, this guy controlled ice. He was beginning to freeze to death from the inside out.

Once Landon realized this he reached out to grab another flame but he could not reach it. His limit was shortened. He tried to move closer to the flames but realized a thick sheet of ice held his feet firmly in place. He could not move. Panic seized him. He had been so foolish! All of his training had come to this moment and when it mattered most he had failed. He wondered what the stranger had planned. It did not take long to find out. Suddenly, the hooded figure released his grip on Landon for a split second only to put out the rest of the flames. The last vestiges of his hope had vanished replaced by an ice cold film. Landon was at the mercy of his dark enemy.

Again the hooded man placed his power around Landon and he felt an icy hand begin to squeeze life out of him. Landon knew this was the end and struggled to fight. He closed his eyes to attempt one last time to create a flame, but his strength was depleted and the air was too cold around him. Slowly he was being crushed to death. His body was turning to ice. The blood in his veins cooled as he took one last breath. The blackness over his eyes crept from the corners closer and closer towards each other. He thought about everyone who had believed in him: about Aratus and Aldous who had trained. He thought about not being able to save Daxis and letting Godfrey down who had put so much faith in him. He thought about his uncle lost on some wild errand. Lastly, he thought about his parents. He wished he could have met them if only for a moment. He was genuinely sorry that he did not live up to all of their expectations. A single tear from each eye rolled down his face and froze on the surface. It was too late. His time was up. He whispered a weak, “I’m sorry.”And then, there was only darkness.

Epi
logue

Mordecai rode Abaccus hard across the open plain. He only had a few hours remaining to find what he was looking for. The man at the inn had promised he would find clues at the crossroads, but deep inside he doubted. Every possible clue so far had led to a dead end. He feared what Malchus might do if he did not complete his mission. As he neared the fork, he saw nothing. A few trees on the edge of the forest swayed in the breeze. A number of small animals scurried about. Other than that, silence abounded. The sun was approaching its zenith. Wisps of clouds moved slowly across the sky. Mordecai pulled the horse to a stop and looked about. he saw no one coming from either direction and he knew he had been had. He marched the horse over to the trees and dismounted to loosen his legs.

In the distance, a rumbling careened through the dirt.. Mordecai strained to listen. He couldn’t tell from whence it came. He stooped low to the ground to place his ear upon the dirt. The rumbling grew louder as it moved towards him. It was coming from the direction of Linsford. It grew louder still and Mordecai recognized it as the unmistakable sound of hooves beating upon the road. It sounded like a number of horses carrying large burdens. An ominous feeling hung about whatever was approaching. He needed to get off the road.

He hurried to Abaccus and hid them both behind a clump of trees just off the main road. Peering through a slight crack in their midst, Mordecai watched as three men clad in the armor of the Sovereign’s Guards sped their steeds toward his location. As they approached, the tall, muscular man in front eased on his reins. The two others followed suit. The men looked weary as though they had ridden hard all day and night.

“This is where we rest. Find shade for the horses and unroll the packs. Algernon, take the first watch.”

“Aye, sir.”

Mordecai watched intently as the two subordinates carried out the leader’s order while he prepared to sleep. He wished he could do the same. He had left so early last night. He felt remorseful for making Landon prepare the fields alone, but what choice did he have? He had to keep his nephew safe. He knew he was a gruff man and wished he had shown more affection to Landon. But he didn’t really know how.

Snapping him from his train of thoughts, another rumble began to shake the ground. Mordecai thought it came from a large army pursuing the soldiers.
That must be why they were riding so hard,
he thought. Two of the men were sound asleep while the third sat tall on his horse staring back and forth at the roads. No alarm could be seen in his posture.

The rumbling grew louder and stronger.

It became difficult for Mordecai to stand. Abaccus whinnied, as did the other horses. The lookout finally noticed that something was amiss and frantically looked about for the source. The two slumbering soldiers did not move.

The ground began to shake violently.

Tree trunks snapped around Mordecai. The senior officer continued to dream peacefully while the other soldier now stirred. Suddenly, an enormous crack appeared adjacent to the three men. Mordecai was tossed to the ground as a large branch fell on top of him. It dazed him, but he was not severely injured. He looked up to see the fissure begin to widen. The man on his horse attempted to spur his steed away from the scene, but instead was thrown to the ground when the horse reared up and dashed away. Mordecai became frozen with fear. He watched the scene play out before him, but was not prepared for what happened next.

The gap which had begun to slowly widen suddenly burst forth into a giant chasm. The ground beneath each soldier and Mordecai’s feet immediately vanished. In an instant, he was hurtling downward into darkness followed by Abaccus, the two subordinates, and their horses. He looked upward toward the sky and saw that the commander remained where he lay, suspended above the abyss. He was still asleep.

Then, just as suddenly as the crack had opened, it closed again killing all those who had fallen into it. The head soldier finally stirred at the deafening boom that resulted. He sat up and blinked.

He looked around, confused.

“Report!” he barked. No one replied. “Algernon. Lyric. Answer me!”

Instead of an answer, the man received silence. In the place where his men and Mordecai had stood was a large, barren circle slightly depressed into the earth. The man whistled. Galloping towards him came the lookout’s horse. Still unsure of what had transpired, he mounted the steed and sped away to the south.

###

About the Author
:

Justin Sargeant is a Kern County based English teacher, author and novelist.
He received a Bachelor of Arts in History with a minor in English Literature from California State University of Bakersfield and a Master of Arts in Secondary English Education from Point Loma Nazarene University. His love of fantasy and knowledge of Medieval history combine is his first series The Stones of Revenge.

Connect With Me Online:

http://mastersarge.wordpress.com

A Special Preview of

The Stones of Revenge: The Arising

Chapter One

Tactics and Tailors

He raised his sword to guard against the tremendous weight of the blade crashing down upon him. The odors of sweat and dirt filled his nostrils as the threat of death filled his mind.  Sharp metal slashed against sharp metal. He took a step back. The blade sprung towards his left side this time. Deftly, he rotated his own saber and placed it between the deathblow and himself. The man pushed against it making his opponent retreat a few steps. Now, he was on the offensive. Quickly, he charged.

Forward thrust.

Parry.

Side thrust.

Parry

Forward thrust.

Parry.

Push forward. Push forward.

Forward thrust. Side swipe.

Parry.

Side swipe, feint, rotate wrist.

Move to block.

Disarm.

The crowd surrounding the two combatants erupted in cheers. The man reached down and retrieved his opponent’s sword lying in the dust. His challenger, a young man, held out a shaking hand. He delicately placed the saber into it, and the two of them bowed to one another. The younger man stalked off happy to be alive, but not quite sure what had happened. Another young lad from the crowd stepped forward.

“Sergeant Preston, how do you make it look so easy?”

“Practice. Years of practice,” he said quietly sheathing his sword. Then he barked, “Attention!”

Immediately, the clanging of shields and armor silenced as the men snapped their heels together and stood tall.

“I propose a challenge. Winner receives an invitation to the Captain’s Feast this eve.”

Immediately, a large crowd of men sprang forward.

“Loser must keep guard along the ridge, unaccompanied.”

“But, sir, the frosts. No one can survive them,” one said.

“If that is his fate,” Preston said stone-faced.

All but two of the men retreated. The sergeant examined them in great detail.

“So – there
are
still men of valor left in the realm. Draw your weapons.”

Their swords scraped against the metal on their sheaths that hung about their hips. The soldiers stood facing each other. The first combatant lifted his blade high above his broad shoulders exposing his rib cage. He angled his body so as to make himself as small as possible behind his circular shield.

His guard is too high
, Preston thought
.

The second warrior held his steel directly in front of his shield. He set his stocky frame shoulders-width apart baring the fullness of his chest to his opponent.

He is too cocky.

Preston stood in their midst. “The fight will continue until the first stain of red falls on this dust.” Both men nodded their head without moving any other muscle. “Begin!”

The crowd of men circled around the contestants cheering with bloodlust.

The two warriors circled each other, evaluating the other. The tall soldier kicked a few small pebbles toward his opponent.

Don’t take the bait,
Preston coached in his head
.

When he didn’t react, the first soldier moved in closer.

Well done.

Dust filled his nostrils. The must made it difficult to breathe, but he refused to spend the night on the ridge.

The stocky soldier had been in this position before. The fear in his stomach was familiar, yet he knew he only narrowly escaped last time. The scar on his side was his constant reminder.

The first man attacked swinging his sword wildly overhead from side to side. The blade crashed upon his opponent’s shield.

Clang.

Rookie mistake.

The second combatant thrust his bronze disk away from him throwing off the blade. With his free hand, he swung his sword horizontally across his rival’s chest. It caused a deep gash in the breastplate.

“Good, Merek,” Preston said.

The first warrior took three considerable steps backward. Merek saw the momentary hesitation and leapt upon him. He charged forward using his shield as a weapon to cut out the man’s feet under him. The tall soldier jumped and narrowly missed the hit. Merek did not let off. He swung his sword with a strong backhand toward the other’s helmet. But he did not hit his mark for the sword was met by a shield. A terrible crash resonated throughout the arena.

“Well countered, Fendrel,” Preston coached again.

The two men returned to their circular berth neither finding the other’s weakness. The restless crowd jeered at them.

“Cowards!”

“Fight!”

How sickening
! These men were unwilling to stand in combat, but all too willing to see a brother bleed.
Preston spat upon the ground.

At the taunting, the two men became incensed. They no longer strategized, but instead were compelled to fight with blind aggression.

Fendrel thrust his blade forward.

Merek parried and countered.

Fendrel sidestepped and followed with a right hook catching Merek just under the bronze helmet.

Merek was taken aback. He returned the blow with one to Fendrel’s chest using his shield.

Fendrel felt the full weight of the hit as it cracked the armor along the fault that had been created earlier.

Clamors for blood rang out.

Fendrel tore off his splintered breastplate and felt the fresh breeze blow across his sweat soaked torso. The move was more psychological than physical. He continued the battle fully exposed.

Now this I have never seen before.

Swing right.

Block.

Swing left.

Block.

Swing left.

Block.

Swing overhead.

Block and reversal.

Merek tried to take advantage of the open back, but Fendrel anticipated it. He swung his broadsword behind him and felt the twang of another blade hitting it. He spun around and swung his sword in a vertical circle striking Merek’s out of his hands. It rattled into the dust beyond the crowd.

“Sword, sword. I need a sword.”

He looked around frantically for someone to provide him a weapon. But Preston barked an order.

“Sheath you swords! Neither will receive assistance from you.”

Merek was trapped. He had no way to fight. His fate was sealed.

Unless.

He made an unexpected sprint towards Fendrel and tackled him. The weight of his armor aided in taking him to the ground. He wrestled for the blade and when he couldn’t steal it, he pummeled one fist after another into his enemy’s face. A trickle of blood seeped from his mouth, and he was obviously dazed. Merek pulled himself off of his opponent and stood tall over him. The man did not move. The sergeant moved over to the men.