The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (37 page)

A steel wall suddenly barred their way; they had arrived! Rogan prayed it wasn't too late. Through the bars Rogan could see people fighting, falling, fleeing, and dying.

Rogan's men threw themselves at the gate, but it held fast. Through the narrowly-spaced lines of steel, some of the Black Army's soldiers could be seen turning to take stock and prepare themselves for this new threat.

"Make way!" Rogan roared, even as he brandished the zenblade over his head.

In that moment the difficulty of his song, the searing pain in his chest, and the aching of his leg were as nothing. Rogan was the blademaster. The activations poured from his throat, strong and clear, and Rogan planted his legs on the ground, took his zenblade in both hands, and swung once, twice, and a third time. It was a move Rogan had devised to fight Veznan nightshades and Tingaran avengers.

With a sound like a tree being struck by lightning, the zenblade cut through the steel as if it was nothing. Sparks flew in a fountain, raining down on the black-clad soldiers on the other side of the gate, and Rogan completed his arc, kicking fragments of molten steel out of the way and then leaping through to the other side.

Against the blademaster, the stunned prison guards didn't stand a chance.

Rogan's men poured through the opening he'd created, taking the enemy warriors down one-by-one. The superior numbers of the Halrana and Rogan's training instantly began to tell, and with renewed vigour those of the prisoners who held swords continued the fight. Rogan despatched one man with a thrust to the upper chest, and then turned on his heel, making a complicated twist of his wrist and taking a second Black Army soldier's head clean off. A Tingaran with a blood-drenched sword and the sun-and-star tattooed across his shaved head came at him with his sword raised; Rogan opened him up with a sweeping blow.

They kept coming at him, and Rogan kept taking them down. The corpses piled at his feet, and as again Rogan thought about what he'd heard went on in this camp, he snarled and launched himself at another soldier, taking the battle to them.

Rogan's song came strong and fierce, and the blood slid away from his armoursilk as the magic prevented it from sticking, so that he looked new and green as a blade of grass, lit up by the morning sun.

"Marshal, there are a bunch of them in their own camp nearby," a male voice called, cutting through Rogan's battle haze. "They're fleeing into the forest."

"We have to let them go," Rogan said, panting. He lowered his zenblade, realising there weren't any more of the enemy to kill. The pain came to him then, and he grimaced as he felt the soreness in his leg come back a hundredfold, his throat hoarse and his chest wheezing.

"Rogan?" a soft voice said behind him.

Whirling on his feet, Rogan saw a young woman gazing at him intently, a stout piece of wood in her hands that she'd evidently been using as a club. She was a pretty thing, and he instantly felt his heart go out to her when he saw the bruises on her arms and the splashes of blood on her dress.

"What?" he panted.

"I'm Amber."

"You're too young," Rogan blurted. When she'd said she was an enchantress he'd pictured a matronly woman with steel-grey hair and a parade-ground voice. He looked then at the young woman's eyes, and with the wisdom of his years he could see that she had seen much, too much perhaps. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Thank you," she said, "I know it can't have been easy for you. We couldn't have held much longer."

He still couldn't believe this was the woman who had organised the revolt. Rogan, a man uncomfortable with women at the best of times, suddenly knew then what he needed to do.

"Can't have been easy for me?" he said, shaking his head.

Amber's eyes began to well.

Rogan took Amber by the shoulders, looking down at her from his height. "I am so, so sorry, for what you've been through here. It's over now." He repeated the words twice more before she seemed to realise. "It's over," he whispered, opening his arms.

Amber fell forward, as the girl let go of the iron restraint she'd held over herself, realising her ordeal was over, and fell into the fold of the grizzled warrior's arms.

"They took him from me," Amber said as she sobbed.

"Shhh," Rogan said as he hugged her. "I know they did."

Rogan felt a squeeze on his shoulder, and, opening his eyes, saw Amelia give him that special look she gave him alone. He let Amber cry herself out, and rather than feeling proud of what he'd done here, he cursed himself that he had taken so long, that any of the prisoners had spent one second longer here than they needed to.

Finally Amber let go of him, and he saw the strength once again go into her brown eyes, the full lips become set with determination.

As Rogan felt the rage build within him, he let it feed him, and give him energy. He gathered himself for the long night ahead, and, looking around him, he saw his men do the same.

"Men and women," he said, "people of Altura and Halaran, I'm afraid the night is far from over. This area crawls with the enemy, and your friends and families are anxious to have you safely home. At the speed we will travel, Ralanast is a half day's journey from here, which means walking through the night. I know it will be difficult, and I'm sorry to ask more of you when you have already been through so much, but there will be light at the end, for with the dawn, the people of Ralanast will show those who would believe otherwise, that they are free. Your people will welcome you with open arms, and even the Alturans among you will soon be among more of your countrymen, just as I will, for a great army lies outside the walls of Ralanast, an army of Alturans and Halrana, and we intend to welcome this army with the new day. Now, please, gather yourselves. We have water and we have some food. It will be a long night."

As Rogan's men gathered the prisoners, Amelia came forward. "Rogan?" she said.

"What is it?"

"We always knew this might be the case. Many of the prisoners are unfit for travel. I need twenty of your men."

Rogan closed his eyes. He could hear the steel in Amelia's voice, and knew it wasn't worth the attempt to argue. He sighed, opening his eyes again. "You'll have twenty-five men," he said, "but it's all I can spare. Lord of the Sky, I wish I could give you more."

"It'll be fine," she soothed. "They just need to help us hold here until tomorrow. I'll do what I can for these people's injuries and illnesses. Some of them have been very poorly treated."

"If anything happens to you…"

"It won't," Amelia said.

"I'll come back for you," Rogan said. "As soon as I can, I promise."

"And I would say that I will fear for you…" Amelia shook her head. "But after seeing you fight tonight…"

Rogan saw Amber come forward, a tall Halrana woman at her side. "This is Lina. She'd also like to stay to take care of the others."

Amelia nodded.

"And you, Amber, are you able to make the journey?" Rogan asked.

Amber looked up at him with a disturbing amount of steel in her eyes. "You remind me of someone," she said. "He always thought I was just a little girl. Don't make the same mistake."

"I won't." Rogan grinned.

He looked around him, at the burning mounds of rubble and the pits in the earth where orbs had exploded. Corpses were scattered at all ends of the prison camp, most wearing black, he was pleased to see. His men had gathered the freed prisoners in a column. They were ready.

"Move out!" Rogan called.

40

T
HE
uprising of Ralanast commenced at dawn.

Prince Tiesto had scattered his men throughout the city, so that a multitude of armed companies each at least fifty strong ran through the eighteen avenues and twenty-six streets that made up the city's central zone. The uprising began in earnest when the rising sun touched the easternmost spire of the Terra Cathedral and the Halrana patriots began to shout the mantra that would signal the start of the battle for liberation and call their people to arms.

"Brown for the earth! Green for life! The birth of a new day!"

Some of the patriots were met by curious citizens, woken by the commotion. All questions were answered: "Meet at the Terra Cathedral! Freedom for Ralanast! Freedom for Halaran!"

Others were met by the swords of the Black Army's soldiers. The clash of steel broke the morning stillness, blood drenched the dusty streets, and as the call-to-arms rang through the Black Army's barracks and the sound of marching boots was heard in the streets, some of the Halrana chose to stay at home.

Prince Tiesto, with Marcus at his side, led his men towards the eastern gate and his rendezvous with Marshal Rogan.

He had never fought in a battle before, and even though part of him was terrified, he also felt the thrill of the uprising course through his veins. With five hundred men at his back — most either boys or old men — Tiesto waved his shining sword over his head and shouted encouragement. The boys' faces were flushed with excitement and even Marcus grinned like a fool.

They passed unchallenged through the cargo district, heading for the eastern gate in a direct line, and Tiesto felt his heart near-bursting when he saw the twin towers of the gate only a few blocks ahead.

The Tingaran legionnaires met them in the broad avenue leading to the gate.

Rogan had tried, but nothing could have prepared Tiesto for the chaos of their first engagement. Both Tiesto and Marcus had been trained in swordsmanship, but Marcus had been a palace guard, and only on border patrols before that. Tiesto had never before had a man try to kill him.

It was worse than he had imagined.

For some reason, when he saw that his numbers were greater, Tiesto expected the legionnaires to surrender, or for some kind of discussion to take place.

Instead, the men of the imperial legion tore into his ranks like a whirlwind, blood spraying through the air as their swords slashed and thrust into Tiesto's men. Ranks of enemy pikemen marched forward in disciplined formation, the front of their column bristling with lowered weapons.

Tiesto remembered Rogan's advice for dealing with pikemen. He turned to Marcus. "Hit them from the side!"

Marcus vanished, taking a squad with him, and Tiesto found himself battling both the column of relentless pikemen and the flashing blades of the legionnaires.

"To me!" Prince Tiesto called, throwing himself into the fray as he launched himself at the legionnaires. He hoped that the pikemen would have difficulty continuing their advance if his men were tangled with the legionnaires.

Immediately his hunch was proven correct, but it didn't escape his notice that the Tingarans were the superior soldiers, effectively armed, stronger of muscle, and better trained.

Tiesto thrust his sword at a Tingaran's round face, the point penetrating into the man's mouth as he died with a scream. The prince pulled out his sword with an effort and then quickly raised it to block an attack. He countered with a classic riposte, taking down another of the enemy.

"To me!" he called again, drawing both the enemy and his own men to him.

Over a legionnaire's shoulder he saw Marcus take his squad smashing into the side of the pikemen. The enemy pikemen were soon tangled in their gear as they tried to turn their long weapons and Marcus penetrated deep into their ranks.

Prince Tiesto continued to hack and slash his way through his enemy, narrowly escaping being skewered by the bloody sword of a snarling Tingaran. Then a space opened up in front of him, initially filling him with relief.

Until he saw it.

A monster stood in front of him, an apparition of man and moulded flesh, with a black sword in place of one arm and a flail held in the grip of the other. The creature's face was a horror of metal and cloth, with red slits where eyes should be. It lurched and twisted as it moved forward, directly into Prince Tiesto's path.

Tiesto was unable to tear his eyes from the long twists of braided steel that jangled at the end of the flail, each length ending in a spiked ball the size of a man's hand.

Behind the creature was another, and a third lumbered forward behind that. These were imperial avengers, there were three of them, and Prince Tiesto's ragtag army didn't stand a chance.

Tiesto thought about Rogan Jarvish, heading in hope for the city's eastern gate, with only a hundred men and a huge number of half-starved prisoners, waiting for the gate to be opened; something that would never happen. He pictured the Alturan Lord Marshal, waiting vainly for the main southern gate to open, and Prince Tiesto realised that all their planning had been in vain.

Tiesto had tried. Perhaps he had never been cut out to be High Lord. He had never even wanted to be High Lord, only to help his people.

The prince raised his sword, and with a muttered prayer he prepared to defend himself from the avenger.

The flail whipped forward and Tiesto ducked, hearing the whistle as it flew over his head. He ran forward, weaving as he went, rolling to the side as the black sword skewered the ground where he had been a moment before, and then thrust his sword at the avenger's body.

The glowing runes on the metal torso flared and hummed, and the jarring turned Tiesto's fingers numb as his blow was easily deflected by the magic.

Without an enchanted sword, Tiesto couldn't penetrate the protective power of Tingara's lore.

Tiesto rolled again as the spiked steel balls smashed into the cobbled street, chips and bits of stone flying in all directions. He coughed as he realised he was lying on his back, and willed his body to raise him up from the ground. A pointed length of black metal whistled through the air, and barely in time, Tiesto raised his sword in front of his face to block.

The avenger's black sword broke Tiesto's blade in two, the top half clattering to the street. Suddenly the prince was helpless, prone on his back, holding the hilt of a broken blade. The avenger lurched forward, ready to finish the fallen man in brown. The sword arm went up to strike at Tiesto's chest, where the Halrana
raj hada
was worn proudly over his heart.