The Spirit of Revenge (26 page)

“I sure needed that,” Joshua sighed as he patted his portly stomach. “Thank you, Isroc.”

“Anything for you, my friends,” the captain said. He leaned forward and struggled to hold back a smile. “I can’t believe you went into the Alon Heath. No one has entered there in centuries. And to survive the clutches of the Iscara as well, you are truly astounding. Tarsha has done a great thing in placing its hopes on the six of you.”

“Well,” Joshua remarked, “not to boast…but aside from the murdering light, the madmen wanting to kill us, and our horses running off with our food, I say we’ve done a good job.”

Silas laughed at him. “As if you have room to talk, you didn’t even kill one Iscara. You’re about as useful as Isroc’s finger, wherever that is.” The group laughed at this.

“In all seriousness,” Isroc continued after a moment, “I cannot stress how great a thing you are doing for Tarsha. The people need unity, and you will bring it to them through the Alliance. You are truly the hope of Tarsha. You fight for the good of the people and our salvation from Abaddon’s relentless genocide; you are truly noble in this cause.” The four of Andaurel glanced at each other anxiously. Nothing they have done had been for that.

The Warriors stood at the edge of Mordicon, their backs turned to the smoldering dead, smoke still rising into the crisp morn.

The new day’s sun rose now at their backs, its light spreading across the heavens, bringing with it much-needed warmth.

Isroc approached the group with a bundle of rucksacks in hand. He dropped them in the snow at their feet and the Warriors thanked him for the supplies.

“It’s nothing, my friends,” he said, “It is the least I can do.” He bowed humbly before them. “May I ask something of you though?” The Warriors nodded.

Isroc paused a moment and fingered his gray-flecked beard in thought. “May I go with you? To Morven that is?”

“What about your men?” Cain asked him.

“They know I wish to retire from the Army soon, I’ve been a soldier long enough. I have fought for far too long and have endured many a dreadful thing while serving my country. Maybe leaving the Army and traveling with you will be for the best.”

“Well,” Cain said, “We need every sword we can get.”

“Then you have both of mine,” Isroc proudly replied. He stepped forward and shook Cain’s hand.

From behind them, Isroc’s men approached and stopped beside them. Isroc turned and looked solemnly at each of them. They knew what he was going to do.

“Alec,” he said to one of them, “I leave you in charge of my men. You will serve them well.”

“You can’t go now,” the bandaged Alec pleaded, “We need you.”

“No you don’t. I am getting none the younger. It is time for me to leave. The Warriors passing through here was not of chance, it is a sign for me to move on to greater things and join them in their cause.”

“But what of Hallus?” The man inquired. “Your father has been missing for three weeks now; you can’t give up on him.”

“I’m not giving up on him. He may just be at Morven, awaiting my arrival.”

One of the men stepped forward. “Even so, we need you, sir,” he implored.

“Yet the people of Erias need me more, you would do well not to hinder me. I’m leaving with the Warriors.” He rested a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Listen, Alec. There are bigger things than us in this world. We all must learn to follow our fates, to whatever end we are destined. Each of us must accept the fate we are given and play our part.”

Alec nodded and saluted his captain with as much respect as he could exhibit. Isroc saluted in return and shook the man’s hand firmly.

Cain looked away from the group, struck with the power of this man’s words. He struggled to have such faith, such selflessness.

Isroc shook each man’s hand and said goodbye to them all. He then turned and faced the Warriors. “I’m ready.”

The Warriors followed Malecai across the constantly rolling landscape, weaving through the pines and climbing over the ever-changing countryside.

Streaks of snowfall fell from the skies, raining down around the travelers, their boots crunching loudly in the freshly fallen snow.

Malecai led them along the bank of a swift-flowing creek, rushing through the rocks toward some unknown destination. An endless sea of trees surrounded the miniscule travelers, spread dense across the snow painted mountainsides.

The branches of the towering pines stretched out from their trunks like the sails of mighty ships, clawing at their heads as they walked underfoot.

“Why were you going to Morven with your father?” Cain asked Isroc as they crossed the brook.

“My father is the head advisor of the King and leader of the Erias Cavalry. We were going to Morven to aid in its defense in case Morven is indeed the enemy’s target. We were at my father’s stronghold, Braygon, on the west coast when I received word from the King to…well you saw what I had to do. My father and I agreed we would meet up at Morven, but that was weeks ago, and I haven’t heard word of him ever arriving there.”

Malecai grunted from the head of the group. “Kings need their advisors, they are hopeless without them. It would be an enormous loss for our side if any one of them were killed. We are weak as it is, we cannot afford those kinds of losses. The enemy knows this and will exploit any advantage they have. Have you ever considered the fact that-”

Isroc suddenly bolted from the middle of the group. He threw a hand around Malecai’s neck and pinned him against the trunk of a tree. The group immediately came to a halt, hands instinctively reaching for their weapons at the defense of their friend.

“You would do well not to finish that sentence…”

Malecai nodded at his threat. “Then you know it to be true…you are only in denial.”

Isroc glared at him with contempt and slowly released his grasp around Malecai’s neck. The two men glowered at the other for several moments.

Isroc clenched his fist and punched Malecai in the face. He slammed his fist into Malecai’s jaw, a dull thud echoing through the trees from the impact.

Malecai pulled his head back from the blow and flicked his hair, loudly cracking his jaw as he returned Isroc’s stare with indifference.

Isroc’s disdain suddenly turned to an impassive mask as he struggled to shield his face from the sadness that fought to divulge.

“I thought as much,” Malecai continued, “you cannot hide from the truth. Your father is dead.”

Isroc returned his stare for a moment, rubbing his battered knuckles as he managed to regain his composure.

Malecai then turned and walked away from the others, following the bank of the creek and disappearing through the pines.

They continued throughout the day, trudging through the knee-deep snow. Malecai led the group through the pines, following his mental bearings as the light of day faded from the skies.

After a while, Malecai threw down his rucksack. “We will arrive at Ilross by tomorrow. We rest for now.”

The others sighed with relief and dropped their rucksacks before collapsing beneath a cluster of trees.

“Ill weather will set in soon. Many that travel die once the storms set in, few dare travel long in winter. I will go find firewood.”

He brushed his cloak of ice and walked past the group. He stopped and glanced at Isroc who sat staring up at him, silently fingering his bruised and bloody knuckles.

Malecai reached into his cloak and threw a bundle of wrappings onto Isroc’s lap. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, “we may need you.”

The Warriors sat around a large fire, circled together for warmth. Snow swirled around them, the cold clawing at their backs. Dusk had fallen hours prior but they could not find sleep in the growing storm. The fire danced vigorously in the wind, snow and ice whipping painfully across their faces. The Warriors sat encased in their cloaks, struggling to stave off the mind numbing cold.

“I’m sorry for striking you,” Isroc muttered through the cowl tied around his mouth for warmth.

“Never apologize,” Malecai replied, “It is a sign of weakness.”

“Aye…I guess I’ve just been in denial about it. It is foolish to remain hopeful when your father is surely dead. After all that’s happened to me, I guess I just wanted something good to hold on to.”

“What happened?” Adriel asked him.

Isroc removed the cowl and stared pensive into the fire. “The death of my daughter, Claire. An Andred raiding party attacked the city we lived in, and she was killed in the struggle. I was with my father in Braygon when it happened. I received a letter a few weeks ago, saying that she was dead. I could have done something…if only I had been there. She was all I had…I’ve never endured such agony as I did that day, and I still feel its sting even now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Cain apologized. He knew all too well the pain Isroc was facing.

“Thank you. But I know you four of Andaurel have suffered as much as I have. You have lost your home twice, your parents, your families and friends, yet still you push on for peace in this world. I envy your selflessness. I want to join you in the fight for what we believe in and will gladly die for, the salvation of our people.”

They woke the following morning to fresh snowfall. The massive pine trees above were heavy laden with jackets of snow, falling like rain as the branches shook from their burden. A light snow drizzled down from the clouds above. The Warriors climbed out of their icy tombs and shook the ice from their clothes.