Gathering Darkness: The Shattered Realm, #2

By Oskar Soderberg

Sarien and his friends pushed back against the Rhinn invaders in Tyralien, but that was just the first step.

When Sarien finds himself stranded in a world without magic, he knows he must find a way back to his own world before it's too late. Maydian is under attack by invaders and horrific monsters both, and its fate might rest on Sarien's ability to return and stop them.

Meanwhile, Goslin returns to his kingdom, Eldsprak, to find it under siege, teetering on the brink of destruction.

Emeryn must navigate the deserted Kinship of Jordfaste and uncover the truth about her god's survival and the Kin's plans.

Lana, a reluctant leader, returns home to rally the Loftians and discover her own strength.

 

And Kax, afflicted by the dark void spreading across his body, is still Kax.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oskar Soderberg
• Release date: Jul 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9789198826159

Book preview

ONE

SARIEN

Savior pulled hard on Sarien's hand with surprising strength. With her support, he hobbled forward despite the throbbing wound in his leg, where the massive Xzxyth pierced him with one of its many tentacles. The remains of the creature, born out of a nightmare, covered the field behind them. Its opaque goop blanketed the grass.

A ramshackle collection of houses and shacks sat nearby, the makings of a small village. Sarien and Savior hurried toward them and reached the squat buildings just as a group of men, alerted by Sarien’s sudden appearance, raced across the field.

Savior half-carried, half-pushed him through an unlocked door of one of the shacks, a run-down wooden structure with a thatch roof and a hole cut into the wall that served as a window.

What is this place? he asked, panting hard from the exertion.

The young woman quickly brushed straw aside and opened a hatch in the floor. Get in.

You’re joking?

Look at my face and tell me I’m joking, she hissed. She looked nervously back and forth between him and the door, her narrow features and small nose reminding him of a squirrel’s. They’re here. Get in!

Sarien crawled toward her and rolled through the dark opening, wincing as pain lanced up his leg. The space was small and cramped, and he flipped over to lay flat on his back. Savior stood over him for a moment longer before shutting the hatch door, causing dust and bits of loose straw to fly up around him. He sneezed. When he opened his eyes, his nose was pressed up against the wooden floorboard of the shack above him.

Be quiet, she whispered through the cracks before disappearing from view. He heard loud, urgent voices booming somewhere in the village. His heart raced, pounding loudly in his ears.

A heavy knock shook the walls, causing more dust and straw to fall onto Sarien’s face. His nose twitched, but he held his breath, forcing any sneeze to subside. He heard Savior open the door.

Yes? she asked. A scuffle commenced, ending with a loud thud and a yelp as Savior was knocked onto the floor above him. Dust rose and tickled Sarien’s nose, but he quickly held on to his breath as he listened to the sound of heavy footsteps make a quick turn around the small room.

Empty, a gruff male voice said. The door slammed shut. Sarien couldn’t hold it any longer. He let out a series of violent sneezes, each sending a jolt of pain through his body.

Ow, he groaned.

The hatch opened and Savior’s face reappeared above him. Not great at keeping quiet, are you?

It isn’t my greatest strength, he muttered, crawling out of the hidden compartment and pulling himself up against the nearby wall. The burning pain in his leg radiated out into the rest of his body. Thank you for the rescue. I’m Sarien.

No worries, Savior said. You owe me one and I’m about to cash in right away.

Oh?

She nodded and grinned a ferocious little smile. You’re my ticket out of here, wayfarer.

You know about wayfarers?

Straight jet black hair fell over her face as she nodded, and she looped it back behind her ear in what looked to be a much-practiced motion. You’re not the first one we’ve seen. Just the first in about a hundred years.

Slow down a little, Sarien said. You’re over a hundred years old?

Savior narrowed her eyes and looked down at herself. Do I look like a little old lady to you?

Sarien looked at her. That she didn’t, he had to admit. The young woman was almost as tall as him and looked a little thin, malnourished.

You look my age, he said.

She nodded, and her face twitched as if quickly hiding a smile. Our organization has records of a wayfarer appearing here. Apparently, she was taken to the citadel, and no one saw her again.

A bark sounded from outside the door. Could you let Daisy in?

Your dog?

Not sure if he’s mine, but he saved me from the Xzxyth.

Xzxyth? she asked, opening the door.

Daisy padded in, sniffed Sarien curiously, before curling up in a corner.

The monster who came through the gate with me when you found me.

Oh, she said. So, can you help me? Help us?

You told me that magic is blocked here. Not sure what help I can provide, Sarien said. I’m not much of a fighter, and I lost my spear.

Savior grinned. We already have a plan to deal with the blockage. Now that you’re here, we might actually pull it off. I’ll take you to see the others soon.

Sarien chuckled. I seem to stumble upon rebellions wherever I go.

We need your help with Yelena.

Yelena? One woman? Doesn’t sound so bad.

Yelena the Destroyer of Hope.

That does have quite the ring to it, Sarien admitted, grimacing as he shifted his leg. My wounds need tending if I’m going to help you, or I’ll bleed out on your floor.

Savior jerked up. Right, forgot. She stood and headed for the door. I’ll go talk to the others and bring back some salve. Won’t be but a minute. I’m Myn, by the way. Welcome to Malac.

Myn peeked out the door before rushing out, leaving Sarien and Daisy alone in the house. House might have been too grandiose a name for the small wooden box, built with thin planks and a rickety door. The single-room house lacked any furniture other than the heaps of straw on the floor. Sarien didn’t think Myn actually lived here. How could she?

What felt like an hour passed and Sarien trembled as a chill racked through him. The straw and floorboards beneath him were stained with his blood. Daisy had moved over to Sarien and was resting his head in Sarien’s lap, the dog’s large brown eyes fixed on Sarien’s face. The dog radiated heat and comfort and Sarien struggled to keep his eyes open.

Sarien’s shoulder and thigh throbbed with pain, and it took all his willpower not to look at his wounds. If he did, he was sure to pass out.

When he’d almost given up on Myn’s return, the door opened. Sarien gasped. With the early morning sunlight streaming in from behind her, creating a glowing halo around her head, he thought she was a spirit from beyond who’d come to claim him.

He’s not looking too good, someone croaked. An old lady pushed past Myn. She leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden cane.

Sarien’s eyes widened, and he mumbled, as shadows edged his vision, Are you Death?

The old woman struck him in the head with the cane.

Sarien woke, his head aching. To his surprise, everything still hurt, but not quite as bad. He cautiously opened his eyes.

He was tucked into a bed in a room bigger than the whole building Myn hid him in. It was decorated simply. A gray rug lined the clean wooden floors. A lamp was lit on the table beside the bed, the warm light flickering behind the glass casing.

Sarien’s throat and mouth were parched, and he swallowed several times before he could speak. Hello?

The door banged open, and the old lady barged in. Death, am I? she barked.

What? he asked. Where am I?

She stopped abruptly and narrowed her eyes. They almost disappeared behind thick folds of leathery skin. In my house. Brought you back from the brink, didn’t I? The woman shoved a glass of water into his hands and Sarien drank greedily. It tasted clean and sweet.

He coughed, cleared his throat, and forced himself upright. With a wince, he fell back into the bed. Thank you for helping me. Whatever she’d done, it hadn’t been as effective as Tomford’s healing. Curious, he lifted the covers to inspect the wound in his shoulder.

Sarien’s face burned. Where are my clothes?

Threw them away. Never seen fabric in such a sorry state before, have I? Blood, mud, and who knows what else? She gestured to a chair by the door. Myn got you some new ones. They’re over there.

The old woman’s face softened. I’m Viv.

Sarien. Thank you again.

Viv gave him a long and searching look. The girl says you’ll help us get away from here. Not a liar, are you?

I’ll do whatever is in my power to help, but I don’t know anything about this place. She told me magic doesn’t work here in Malac.

She shook her head. Not anymore, not for a long time. But if you are what she says you are, we might have a slim chance to taste our boons again. Rest up, young man. Don’t want to have to treat those same wounds again, do I?

Viv disappeared through the door, leaving Sarien alone. Voices drifted from the room beyond, and by the rapid, hushed murmurs, there were several of them. He thought he heard Myn. Daisy was definitely in the adjoining room. There was no mistaking his excited barks.

He sat up, more gingerly this time, and let the covers fall. A distinct smell rose from his bandaged shoulder. Herbs and something else that reminded him of freshly baked bread from the kitchens back at the Karm estate. He thought about Ben. Whatever he’d brought into Maydian came from here, from Malac. A person, he desperately hoped it was human, from this very place now lived inside Ben, his childhood friend.

With a bracing exhale, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sharp pain shot up when he put his weight on the wounded thigh, but it was far less intense than he’d anticipated. Whatever concoction they’d slathered on his wounds was doing its job. Sarien hobbled over to the pile of clothes and found his mother’s book and the strange device his father gave him.

He opened the small book and flipped through page after page of handwritten notes in a neat hand. His mother’s handwriting. Sarien wanted nothing more than to plop down and start reading, but a chilly draft reminded him of his very naked state.

The clothes appeared comfortable and not too worn. He pulled on the off-white, almost gray, loose-fitting tunic. A pair of brown cloth pants that only chafed a little completed the outfit, along with his old boots.

Sarien peered out the window and looked up at a clear night sky filled with stars. The door slammed open, startling him, and Myn gave him a glare. What are you waiting for? We heard you banging around in here. Just come on out already!

Sorry, sorry, he muttered, limping along behind her. They entered a larger room with bedrolls strewn about on the floor. In one corner, a boiling pot bubbled with a smell that made his stomach grumble. In the center of the room was a small, circular, wooden table where a group of people sat staring at him with a mixture of wonder and suspicion.

Hello, he said, giving them a short wave. Other than Viv and Myn, three more chairs were occupied. Four if he counted Daisy, who sat on one chair, his tail thumping wildly. When no one spoke, he continued, I’m Sarien. Thank you for helping me.

Stop dawdling and sit down, Myn said, gesturing for the lone empty chair. Can’t have you falling down dead on us now.

He winced as he sat and then glanced around the table. The ones he hadn’t met before were all older than Myn, but not as ancient as Viv. To Sarien’s left was a short, burly man with bare arms covered in thick, dark brown hair that matched a bushy beard. His hair fell past his shoulders. He wore a thoughtful expression and leaned back in his chair, as if waiting for something to happen.

The next stranger was a woman in her late middle years. She wore clothes almost identical to Sarien’s. Her head was tilted up as if to look down her nose at him. The woman looked solid with her thick forearms and wide shoulders like she was used to a hard day’s work. Next to Viv sat another man. He was hunched over, his head pillowed in his folded arms. The only feature Sarien could make out was his short-clipped hair. The man's hands twitched but he appeared to be sleeping.

This is everyone, Myn said. She gestured to the burly man, Haen, moved to the woman, his wife Freyn, and then pointed to the sleeping man, Emiril. Viv, you’ve already met.

Myn says you’re a wayfarer, Freyn said, leaning over the table. Prove it.

How is he supposed to prove it? Emiril asked, sitting up. So, he wasn’t sleeping after all.

Freyn huffed and folded her arms across her chest. I don’t know.

We all felt him, Myn said, throwing an irritated glance to Freyn. Also, he was in the middle of a field. No way he could have gotten there on foot with his injuries.

I came here from Maydian, Sarien said, trying to diffuse the rising tension.

Never heard of it, Viv said.

Sarien shrugged. It’s what I call my world.

Why did you come here of all places? Did you want to get stuck? Haen asked.

Sarien hesitated. These people looked and felt friendly enough. And he didn’t have many options in this strange alien world. He had no choice but to trust them. I pulled someone or something from this world into mine a while back, something malicious. Thought this world was like this being, that’s why I sent the Xzxyth here. Didn’t expect to be pulled along with it.

And now you’re stuck with us, Emiril said.

Viv’s mouth hung agape.

What? Sarien asked.

You pulled someone from here?

I did.

It couldn’t be, Viv said, slowly, as if mulling over her words.

Has to be him, right? Myn said, an excited grin on her face. She gesticulated wildly. What if he’s gone?

Sarien looked back and forth between Viv and Myn, confused. Who?

You should fill the boy in on what is happening here. It’s only right if we’re going to have him help us, Haen said, looking to his wife.

Freyn sighed. Malac is the home of many powerful magi. Throughout our history, factions have risen and fallen as they struggled for control over our different kingdoms. About a hundred years ago, one mage acquired an artifact with the ability to control the use of magic.

Yelena? Sarien guessed.

That’s right, Freyn said. No one knows how she got it, but she used the artifact to cut everyone off from their magic. Everyone but herself and her closest ally and advisor, Renheld. He is a more powerful mage than her but swore fealty to Yelena for fear of losing his own powers.

Without him, she’ll be vulnerable! Myn exclaimed. We should get started right away!

Let her finish, Haen said. Go on, honey.

There isn’t much else to say, Freyn said. We all retained the ability to sense when someone tries to use magic. That’s why soldiers were sent to locate you. Yelena knows you are here. A few of us have banded together to put a stop to her, or, at the very least, to disable the artifact somehow. If we can destroy it, Yelena will hunt us to the ends of the world. That's why we need a way to leave this godforsaken place.

Myn punched a fist into her open palm. Now that we have our very own wayfarer, it’s time to strike! Especially if Renheld is gone!

Questions buzzed through Sarien’s head, but the most important one percolated to the top. Renheld. What makes you think it was him who came to my world?

It’s common knowledge that he has been doing research into world travel. The other wayfarer was sent to him, Haen said.

Viv scoffed. We don’t know why he’s been researching this. Perhaps Yelena wants to conquer more worlds, or it was him doing it on his own accord to escape. If you reached out to this world, I can’t imagine anyone but him throwing himself at the opportunity to leave.

I would’ve if I could access my magic, Emiril said. The man was in his thirties, Sarien thought, with a few days of beard growth and hollow cheeks. His eyes were expressionless, like looking into an empty void.

What they were saying made sense. Renheld might very well be the one in control of Ben.

What can this Renheld do? he asked. Sarien knew he’d face Ben again at some point, if Heradion hadn’t done something drastic before then. The last time he saw the pyromancer was when the old man stated he was heading to the Karm estate more than three weeks past.

Do? Viv asked.

With magic, I mean, Sarien clarified.

Bone dancer, Haen said.

Freyn shuddered. Once attended one of his executions. Crushed every bone in a poor man’s body, breaking each one at a time.

Sarien winced. Renfeld did not sound like a pleasant man.

Let’s hope he’s not here then, Sarien said. Are all of you mages? How would you know if your magic has been restricted?

We can sense the power churning inside us, even if we don’t know what we might be capable of, Emiril grunted. He glanced to the stove. Food’s ready.

Only mages can sense when someone else is trying to work their magic, Freyn added.

I was a brightling, Viv whispered, looking at her fingers as she splayed them in front of her face. Long ago.

You’re over a hundred years old? Sarien asked.

She glared at him. What of it, young man?

Nothing, nothing, he assured her.

Ready to hear our plan? Myn asked, her face brightening with pure excitement.

Just one more thing.

What? she asked, scowling.

Maydian is under attack by a race called the rhinn, and monsters keep appearing from gateways. Just so you all understand, when we do get there, we might be landing in the middle of a war.

Great! Myn shouted. That will give me the opportunity to test and use this thing inside me before I explode!

That’s fine, Viv agreed.

Haen nodded, and Freyn pursed her lips. That’s agreeable.

Whatever, Emiril grunted from over by the stove.

Daisy gave a loud bark.

That was it then. Sarien couldn't return home immediately, but at least he’d been provided with a way forward.

What’s the plan?

TWO

GOSLIN

Silence reigned over the border crossing between Tyriu and Eldsprak. The babbling masses were long gone, as were the soldiers. Deserted. None of those traveling between the two kingdoms waited outside the walls of Kleotram. Trampled fields stretched in all directions from the city, and an eerie quiet weighed heavily on Goslin as he banged on the gate. The sun shone bright without a cloud in sight, chasing away the morning’s chill. In the distance, a lone bird chirped.

Do they already know about the rhinn? Kax asked, his voice cheery.

Goslin peered up the thick stone walls, hoping to catch some movement at the top. He saw none. I don’t know, but I don't like this.

Eldsprak, his home country, was under siege by the rhinn, a human-like race from another world. Kleotram was the kingdom’s second largest city. If it had already fallen, things were dire indeed.

He scratched his head and then sighed and stepped aside, gesturing for Kax to go ahead. Try to get the lock. We don’t want the whole thing coming apart.

The sleeves of his friend’s tunic were rolled up to his elbows and he’d discarded his gloves. Kax started wearing them recently in an attempt to hide the strange discoloring of his flesh. People tended to stare at his skin, which was slowly turning an obsidian black like his precious swords and Goslin's shield. They were all products of their Sarien's strange and unique magic. Pieces of their enemies were trapped in the weapons, and Goslin prayed that it wasn’t those very souls that were slowly bleeding into his friend's body. He didn't know how much of the taint covered Kax's flesh now, but from what he noticed, the progression was swift and all encompassing.

Kax flicked his brown hair out of his eyes and then drew the shorter of his two swords. Bandit will make short work of this most treacherous obstacle! He thrust it into the lock and the blade sliced smoothly into the thick, metal-banded wood. The lock fell into two pieces, clattering against the stone cobbles. Goslin knew that the same thing would have happened if Kax had cut straight into the stone wall. His blades were impossibly sharp.

Kax withdrew the short blade he’d named Bandit, after a previous foe they encountered who was trapped inside and sheathed it. That should do it.

Goslin pushed against the smaller door fixed on the much larger gate. The hinges creaked in protest.

When the door swung open, at least twenty men waited for them with the tips of their spears thrust at Goslin and Kax.

Kax immediately reached for the pommel of his sword, but Goslin stopped him. My name is Goslin of House Steerian, nephew of the King of Eldsprak. I demand you take me to Lord Sanders!

Men, women, and children huddled in doorways and windows all along the main street. The desperate looks on their faces gave Goslin pause. Hunger and hopelessness mingled with fear.

Soldiers patrolled the streets and archers hid on the city wall. Everyone eyed Goslin and Kax warily, focusing their attention on their faces. These people knew of the rhinn, at least. The differences between humans and rhinn were small but noticeable. The invaders’ eyes were larger and their mouths wider.

Kax pulled on his gloves and rolled down his sleeves, hiding his affliction. These people look haunted, Kax muttered. He hunched in on himself as if wizened by the scrutiny they faced. He looked nervously about them, his eyes leaping to the shadows as if wanting to disappear into the nearest one. If they’ve been kept in here for several weeks, food must be running short. They must know of the rhinn. Their fear is palpable, Goslin said.

With everything happening in Eldsprak and the other kingdoms, they were right to be fearful, but you could not improve on your situation huddled in terror. The citizens of Kleotram needed a strong leader. Sanders, the lord of this city, was responsible for its inhabitants. A charge he obviously needed to be reminded of Goslin thought with disgust as he looked at the thin, dirty faces of a group of listless children sitting outside a nearby home.

Due to the throng of people, it took Goslin and Kax nearly an hour to travel to the keep in the center of the city. Once the citizens of Kleotram realized they weren’t invaders, everyone, it seemed, emerged from their houses and crowded the two men, trying to catch any news from outside the city walls. Questions were shouted at Goslin and Kax. What was happening? Would the king come and save them? Had they brought any food?

Goslin waved and smiled but remained silent. He didn’t have any answers. Even if he did, his words would have disappeared in the din and the tight press of bodies.

At the keep, soldiers armed with spears kept the frantic citizens away. Two soldiers separated from the others to escort Goslin and Kax through the keep. A pang of guilt bloomed in Goslin’s chest at the relief he felt to have left the less fortunate behind, outside the keep's walls. He’d help them somehow, he swore to himself. But to do so, he needed to speak with Sanders first.

Kax shuddered, his face pale from the ordeal of crossing the city. Goslin noticed Kax reaching for his blade more than once when the crowd pressed in too close. His friend's nose was scrunched in disgust. That stink. Sanitation sure isn’t working in the lower city. Things are bad here, Princeling.

It’s not their fault if there isn’t clean water for proper hygiene, Goslin said, as much to himself as to his friend. It wasn't the citizens' fault, it was Sander's. The lord had much to answer for.

The keep’s pristine interior was just as he remembered it from his last visit. His father sent him to stay with Sanders, the city lord and a cousin to his father, for a few weeks before the academy, more than a year ago. Goslin couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his time at the academy. He’d thought it difficult then, but the constant struggles from the last few months proved it child’s play in comparison.

There's the old bastard, Kax said, his voice loud enough to carry through the spacious hall. The man at the far end stiffened at his words. Sanders stood with his arms open in a gesture to welcome them.

His father’s cousin kept his hair long, well past his shoulders, in an outdated style. Black hair dye stained the collar of his white, stately robes. The man’s thin face and large pointed nose gave him a hawkish expression.

Goslin, my boy! He pointedly ignored Kax.

Goslin reached out a hand when they approached, but Sanders swept him into a hug. How have you been?

What’s going on here? Goslin asked. Why are the gates shut? Why haven’t you come to Fyrie’s aid?

Sanders's face darkened and he glanced at the soldiers flanking Goslin and Kax. Let’s continue this in my study. Perhaps your good-natured friend here, he gestured to Kax, can wait outside?

Goslin exchanged a quick look with Kax, who frowned but gave a short nod before sauntering off to the side.

The door shut with a heavy thud behind Goslin, leaving him alone with Sanders.

Goslin turned to face his cousin once removed. Now tell me what’s going on here. Eldsprak is under an invasion and you’re hiding behind your walls.

Don't speak to me in such a manner! Sanders bellowed, his face red. I am in charge here and will not tolerate that attitude, no matter who you are!

Goslin took a deep breath and spoke with as much calm as he could muster. Then tell me. Fyrie is burning. Loft is under siege. I just came from Tyralien where we managed to hang on after coming within an inch of our lives. Who knows what’s going on in Vatnbloet and Jordfaste. His heart clenched as his thoughts flew to Emeryn, his wife, who was heading into the unknown. He forced his worries away. This was not the time to think of his beloved. Why are you here?

Sanders's face brightened. Tyriu is free of these burning rhinn?

For the moment.

We must go there then, Sanders mused as he scanned a bunch of maps laying across a wooden desk. What of growers? Are there any in Tyralien? We’re running dangerously low on supplies.

They all left for the Kinship. Goslin furrowed his brow. You would run?

Sanders looked up from his maps and sighed. Listen, lad. I know you don’t want to hear this, but we’ve had messengers and scouts reporting that Fyrie is in the hands of the enemy. The pyromancers are with them, for fire’s sake! There is no fighting against them. Come with us! The rhinn will be here to claim Kleotram any day now.

Coward. The word left Goslin’s mouth before he could restrain himself. It was too late to change course. I’m going to Fyrie. If it’s fallen, we’ll liberate it from the invading forces. He made a fist and held it out between them. Join me instead, you and your soldiers!

Naive whelp! Sanders's face reddened, as he pointed to the door. Get out! He added some choice curses, but Goslin cut them off by slamming the door behind him. The hall outside was empty except for Kax.

Kax was leaning against a stone pillar nearby. He didn’t want to join our noble cause, I take it?

He did not, Goslin confirmed. Did you find out anything?

Kax pushed off the pillar and followed Goslin. He pursed his lips. Not much. No one is happy about the situation, but who can blame them?

Do you think we could get some of the soldiers to join us?

Sure. There are always some who are itching to fight. That’s the plan then? Grab whoever will come and fight our way home?

That’s right.

I don’t like it.

Why not? Goslin asked.

There’ll be rhinn and pyromancers, even more monsters. Anyone we bring won’t make a difference against that. They'll just be fodder for the enemy.

So, you’re saying we should give up? Goslin asked.

Kax chuckled. Of course not, but it would be better to continue on by ourselves. Use stealth to our advantage rather than numbers.

Goslin opened a door that would take them to a courtyard where the soldiers trained. Stealth? I thought your answer to every question these days was to cut it in two with those swords of yours.

Eh, I can be sneaky, Kax said. Sometimes.

Thank you for the advice, but we need the numbers, Goslin said, turning to the men drilling in the yard. This is a time to band together if we’re going to overcome this terrible threat to our kingdom. We’ll find more to join our cause along the way.

Villagers and farmers, Kax said shaking his head, but he didn’t protest further.

Goslin straightened before addressing the men and women before him. In a loud voice to rise over the din, he said, My name is Goslin of House Steerian, nephew to the king of Eldsprak. Do you find honor inside these walls?

A few stopped to listen, but most ignored him. Goslin continued, Your kingdom is under siege, but you cower and hide!

More stopped. They didn’t appear to like what they were hearing, but Goslin spoke over their jeers, I’m here to give you another path!

To where? Kax yelled the question. Goslin spotted his friend in the middle of a large group of swordsmen. Kax winked.

Goslin drew his sword, and the metal sang as it came free from its sheathe. He pointed west. To Fyrie! To glory! To the liberation of Eldsprak!

The men cheered. Eldsprak! To glory!

We leave at dawn! Goslin yelled. Tell your friends and fellow men. Tomorrow, we ride for glory!

When the courtyard cleared, Kax sauntered up. That was easier than I thought.

People want to do what’s right, Goslin said, proud of his fellow countrymen. There’d been at least a hundred men drilling. They’d each tell their friends and family. By tomorrow, they would leave with enough men to counter any enemy forces they meet along the way. Let’s go see if we can find an inn with enough water for a bath.

The next morning, nineteen men waited for them by the main gate.

Where is everyone? Goslin asked.

Kax surveyed their new recruits. I think this is it.

The group consisted of men younger than even Goslin himself, and they all fidgeted with their equipment, not meeting his gaze.

Welcome to the first step of re-taking Eldsprak from the invading rhinn Goslin boomed, trying to hide his disappointment. They all jumped in place and turned to face him, their eyes wide and alert. Are more soldiers on their way?

No one answered, so Goslin pointed to the lad mounted closest to him. I’m thankful for all of you who have decided to join in our glorious quest, but I thought there would be more of you.

Two of the men before him were older, and one of them spoke up. A graying man with a short-clipped beard and tired eyes. At his belt, he wore a mace. Sir, he grumbled, his heavy shoulders hunched over. Lord Sanders heard of your recruitment drive and proclaimed that all who joined you would be shunned, and their families thrown out of Kleotram.

Anger flushed through Goslin’s chest. He did what? What’s your name?

Asken.

Well met, Asken. And what of your family?

He shook his head. I’ve none. None of us do.

I understand, Goslin said. You’ve shown great courage to join our cause. Lord Sanders will face the consequences of his actions before this is all over.

Kax rode up beside him. So how did all of you get horses?

Asken cleared his throat and his weathered face reddened. Let’s call it making up for lost wages, yeah?

Kax smiled. Sounds fine to me. He pointed to a cloth bag slung over one of Asken’s shoulders. You all brought some provisions as well, I take it?

We did, Asken confirmed. What little we could scrounge.

Good thinking, Goslin said. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Showed how much he’d learned since setting out. Let’s move out.

The men at the gate opened to let them through without making a fuss. Sanders didn’t show his face, but Goslin hadn’t expected him to. The coward would pay. Somehow. Goslin would see to it.

Hart’s final resting place was Goslin's first goal after setting out from Kleotram. A few hours into their journey, they spotted their first rhinn patrol. Like all those they’d faced before, these men were on foot. Six spears pointed in their direction, sunlight glinting off the weapons’ polished metal tips as Goslin ordered the charge.

Hoofs thundered and dirt was tossed in all directions. The rhinn’s already large eyes widened in obvious fear when Goslin approached at the front with Kax at his side. His horse punched into their ranks and his sword sliced into one of the rhinn soldiers in the shoulder, throwing him to the ground. Kax’s obsidian blade blurred and ended two more opponents. They rode through, then turned to watch their men make short work of those still standing. Asken’s mace thudded into a tall rhinn man’s face, caving it inward with a sickening crunch. The rest of the lads skewered the rhinn with spears, and in less than a minute, all that remained of the patrol lay in a bloody heap.

Well done, men, Goslin said, sheathing his sword after wiping it off. Any injuries?

One of the young men, a short fellow with a blond mustache leaned over to the side and vomited. Most of it ended up on his own leg and the horse’s flank. Sorry, he groaned.

One of them got me, a second lad said. He was a handsome fellow with long dark hair tied back with a strip of purple cloth. His hand pressed down on his left thigh. Blood trickled from under it.

Goslin rode up to him.

Should bind that, Asken said. It’s a lot of blood.

No one here happens to be a healer? Kax asked, his tone cheerful. Everyone remained silent, and Kax sighed. Didn’t think so. Should have brought Tom with us.

Tom? Asken asked.

Never mind that, Goslin said. Is no one here trained in combat healing?

Silence.

I think it stopped, the dark-haired youth said, removing his hand. Blood gushed out through the tear in his flesh. He quickly put his hand back to cover it, his face going white. Perhaps not.

What’s your name, lad? Goslin asked. He rummaged through his own pack to find a clean shirt. He cut it into strips with his knife.

Torkel, the lad said.

All will be well, Torkel, Goslin said, dismounting. He lifted the young man's leg, placing it to rest on his own shoulder, then did his best in wrapping a few strips of cloth around the wound. The