The Rawn Chronicles Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword: Unabridged (The Rawn Chronicles Series 1) (11 page)

Havoc tried to get up, but his head throbbed; he was dimly aware of something wet and warm trickling down his back; he wanted to hurt Soujonn and his anger reached new levels as the hot feeling in his chest spread through his entire body. The snow around him evaporated into steam in a twelve-foot radius.

Eleana received an elbow in the ribs. She grunted deeply as her breath was knocked out of her; Soujonn slapped her hard and she hit the ground. He pulled at her dress and exposed her left breast.

“I will see the rest later tonight, bitch!” he growled.

Havoc felt hate and the anger well up in him at the thought of his home ravaged and defiled by these invaders. He feared for the safety of his siblings, and infuriated at the humiliation of Eleana.

Was Magnus dead? What of his mother?

Moreover, what could have happened to his father if these Vallkytes were here?

All this formed into bubbling heat at the edge of Havoc’s vision.

Soujonn turned to finish off his cousin, but a much-wounded Sir Gillem attacked him from behind. The old soldier’s limp was bad now from exhaustion, his left arm hung dead at his side and his face covered in blood from a nasty scalp wound.

“Run, Havoc!” It was the first and last time he used the prince’s name.

The knight managed to fend off several blows from Soujonn, but the younger man was faster. Tragenn sliced a deep gash into the knight from chest to groin. Sir Gillem died as blood and organs spilt from the wound.

Havoc’s anger at the old knight’s death boiled into a shimmering heat, a condensed mass of rage.

“Good sword, cousin.” He hefted Tragenn two-handed above Havoc’s head.

Soujonn hesitated in delivering the killing blow. There was something wrong. His cousin’s face blurred, there was what looked like a ball of heat in between both cousins.

Havoc’s only instinct now was to hurt Soujonn, and wipe the sardonic grin from his face, so he pushed.

The ball of heat hit his cousin in the chest and disappeared.

More royal guards raced up to the stables; the Vallkyte attack had stalled for now, but more would come soon. Roguns were fleeing through the north gate. Soldiers and gate guards were giving them time to escape.

Three of the knights who had originally fought with Sir Gillem saw something enter Soujonn and the boy stumbled, he dropped Tragenn, and Havoc could see the swords fall with such clarity as it reflected the snow and fire through the blood that stained it; he could hear the ping as the point imbedded into the flagstones of the path.

Soujonn screamed.

Everyone flinched at the high-pitched wail, and then it turned into a dry screech as his throat blistered from the white-hot flame that escaped from his mouth. Jets of fire were shooting from every orifice in his body, his eyes bubbled and popped, ears melted to his cheeks and his hair evaporated. His flesh blackened and shrivelled onto his bones. The smell of burning flesh was in the air for only an instant, and then even that burnt away from the heat issuing from his body.

Soujonn finally collapsed to the ground in ashes. His armour did not even scorch.

Havoc rose and healed the wound in his head. For some reason he felt calm. The heat that had built up in him for the past hour was gone. He was dimly aware of Magnus being held up by Eleana and healing a wound in his shoulder. In a trance, Havoc reached down to pick up Soujonn’s medallion, depicting a horsed knight; he blew off the ashes.

Everyone was staring at him. He frowned; they looked afraid.

More of the invaders were running towards them. He gathered his thoughts.

“Horses, let’s move,” he said, and everyone spurred into action as if a spell had been broken.

He suddenly felt very weak. Eleana, Tragenn in one hand, was at his side in moments. With Magnus’ help, they got him on Dirkem. Eleana sat behind him and together they guided the horse out of the north gate.

The small unit of Carras Knights put up a strong resistance, but very soon, their bodies started to pile up; they had fought to the bitter end.

As a result, they bought time for the Rogun Navy to defend the yard and for a good portion of its fleet to make ready for the Vallkyte admiral’s attack a day later. Plysov’s force witnessed the sea battle unfold from the shore. Admiral Hurnac’s numbers proved victorious, but it was a hollow victory. He lost many off his ships, while the Roguns managed to escape with a larger percentage of their original number.

Queen Molna, Mia, Verna and Hagan’s twins ended up imprisoned in the palace dungeon, amidst protests from the queen, but the cold face of the Hawk gave back no answer. He would submit his report to King Kasan and request his advice regarding the royal prisoners.

As the king had predicted, once the palace was in the general’s hands, the rest of the citadel would follow.

The citizens put up some resistance, but quickly quashed. Part of Market-town and Baronstown still burnt two days after the attack, but when he was made governor, he would rebuild it all again.

A search for the Rogun De Proteous returned empty handed. Prince Havoc had long gone. A soldier identified Soujonn’s armour as the Vallkyte princes.

The pile of ash slowly blowing away from inside it was a mystery to everyone.

The retreating Rogun army put up a strong and professional defensive retreat, turning back wave after wave of attacking Vallkyte and Nithi for two days now. King Vanduke’s scouts informed him that the enemy had moved behind him and were attacking the fort at the Pander Pass.

The king cursed; his goal was to get to the pass and regroup with reinforcements from the Aln citadel, but the meagre force at the pass was doomed.

Once there was a break in the attacks, he ordered his men into the Tattoium Mountains. There was a deep ford where a narrow river split from the Great River by a ruined building called the Tirithana Keep.

Luck was with them, for the ford levels were low for this time of year. They made good time into the mountains, where he rested his exhausted men with short breaks.

Vanduke wanted to be clear of the entrance to the pass as soon as possible, and he pushed his men hard. In the late evening on the fifth day, they had made it to the Silit Marshes on the outskirts of the Aln Plain; that is when the scouts saw the black pall of smoke in the sky to the west. At the smoke’s distance, they knew it was coming from the citadel.

It was not long before people and rumour found the remnants of the Rogun army. They informed the king that a large host had taken the citadel. Refugees from the city were scattered in all directions. The Rogun navy had fought a long battle with Vallkyte ships, but no one knew the outcome at that time.

The king’s scouts, at the army’s rear, reported sightings of Vallkytes massing outside the mouth of the Pander Pass.

Despair, and the thoughts of his loved ones, was on the king’s mind now. However, he had a duty to his people and he shouted out quick orders.

“Lord Rett, we will take our force into the Sky Mountains, via the west side of the River Silit.”

“What of the Jertiani, Sire?” asked Lord Rett, and the king knew of his friend’s intentions. There was a Rogun host there under General Balaan.

The king shook his head. “No, Balaan will have to fend for himself. We have a better chance at holding off Kasan in the mountains; besides, the men are exhausted and we will not make it to the Jertiani before the Vallkytes catch us up. Send a scout to warn the general, anyway. He will have to come to us through the Tattoium Mountains. Damn Kasan, he must have been planning this for some time.” The king summoned the messengers and more scouts, and then ordered them to spread the word to any survivors of the citadel of the king’s destination.

Then the army travelled hard and fast to the north and the sanctuary of the Sky Mountains.

Hate, anger and confusion was all Havoc could see on the faces of fellow refugees fleeing into the Sky Mountains. Most of all, he could see people were wide eyed in shock as if all of this was just a bad dream.

Daylight had crept in slowly, and the freezing air did not get any warmer.

Havoc’s weakness was abating, but he was having difficulty staying awake. Eleana clung on to him so he would not fall. He did not understand what was wrong with him.

“How did you do that?” asked Magnus. His wound on his shoulder now healed to a red scar still tender to the touch.

They had stopped to drink from a half-frozen mountain stream that ran across their path.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even a Ri could do what you did. Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?”

The remains of the Royal Guard and a few others looked over at the sound of Magnus’s voice. Their attention focussed on Havoc’s reply; they still had that look of fear in their eyes that he had seen after he had burnt Soujonn to ashes.

Killed
Soujonn, Havoc realised he had just killed his first man. There was no regret.

“I…I don’t know.” He shrugged off Magnus’ questions.

The others looked away quickly, avoiding eye contact with the prince.

A young knight called Sir Colby took it upon himself to organise a camp within the woodland and organise pickets. The people were cold, so he sent out parties to collect dry wood and to forage for food.

One of the pickets approached him about midday; he had seen a small Vallkyte group of horsemen searching down by the foot of the mountains. They did not venture up the same route as the refugees, because the narrow path was easy to defend with just a handful of swordsmen and archers.

Sir Colby had deliberately put off starting a fire for warmth. It would give away their position. However, now the enemy knew they were here and had decided not to try their luck, he then ordered the fires lit.

Over three hundred refugees, huddled together in a small valley, stood by the many fires to keep warm. Havoc sat alone and thought about his family. His mind was on his father and the obvious deception of the Vallkytes when Sir Colby approached him with some wild berries.

“Are you hungry, Your Highness?”

Havoc nodded and thanked him for the berries.

“Ah... I have taken the liberty of sending men out to look for better defendable areas than this, My Lord. I think we really should keep moving.”

He seemed nervous, and it took a moment for Havoc to realise why.