A New Dawn Read online

  “Let him fear me,” he thought.

  Behind him he heard Lydia cry out, “Lancelin wait!”

  He stopped his press and observed his surroundings. Suddenly he realized Jorn had feigned his fear. Closing in on him was the host of New Valkara and, far off in the distance, stood his own forces. Jorn had lured him away from all his help.

  “You really are a snake!” Lancelin cursed.

  “Ah, here is a serpent calling out another,” Jorn said with sickening glee.

  Lancelin braced for the coming tide. A host of faceless warriors moved to engulf him. He bolstered his hope when the sound of thundering hooves drew near. On the mount was Aiden, his face a mix of fury and pain. He came to a halt beside Lancelin.

  “Get on!” he shouted.

  Lancelin took the extended hand and mounted the horse. Jorn’s face morphed into rage and he cried out for his army to make chase. With blinding speed Aiden darted to Kingshelm and Leviatanas’ battle lines. Lancelin could see that Lydia and the other commanders had already fallen back with the rest of the men who stood in formation.

  “Thank you,” he shouted over the galloping steed.

  “Thank my sister. Besides, you’re not a son of Kingshelm.”

  As they reached the frontlines of the army, Lancelin could see the commanders already giving orders to the men. The host of New Valkara steadily drew near behind them. Aiden motioned for Lancelin to dismount as he steered them beside Lydia.

  “Are you not staying with us?” Lancelin asked as Aiden turned to leave.

  “I must rally my men or, what remains of them.”

  “Aiden, you can’t! Jorn will sweep over your men now that they are fighting amongst each other,” Lydia said pleading.

  “I must, sister.” With that, Aiden spurred his horse to the tree line.

  Lancelin turned his gaze to the encroaching army. He placed Dawn’s Deliverer back into its sheath. He had taken the same lesson that Titus had learned the hard way, no blood of man would be spilled by the blade. Turning, he scanned the army at his back. The men of Kingshelm stood ready in their silver and gold armor. Beside them the polished silver and jade of Leviatanas held spears at the ready. Lancelin motioned for a nearby soldier to hand him an extra sword to wield. Weapon in hand, he took his place next to Lydia, ready to embrace the coming tide.

  “Well, it should be more interesting now,” he said.

  She gave him a disapproving grunt but shot him a grim smile, “I’ve got claim on Jorn.”

  They both braced themselves as the New Valkaran forces charged. Lancelin could just make out a segment of their army breaking off from the rest, now headed to the woods. Divide and conquer, the age old strategy. A horn rang out giving the order for their own forces to begin their charge. With a cry, he rushed forward with the collective army. A flash of sounds and visions greeted him as the two lines collided. Steel and flesh met for yet another deadly dance.

  Cries of agony filled his ears as he fought through the line of foes. With a sweep of his sword he severed a spear and followed with a deadly thrust. He felt the swoosh of Lydia’s sword beside him as she cut down her foe. Side by side they pushed forward through the crowd of enemies. Men had come to know of the fighting prowess of both the jade armored prince and the red-haired queen.

  A host of arrows took them by surprise as they rained down from the edge of the forest. Aiden and his men had been able to rally, sending some relief to their allies in the field. Lancelin could just make out the New Valkarans swiftly moving to Aiden’s position. His mind returned to the battle at hand when he was forced to deflect an incoming blow. He held his opponent’s sword high in the air as Lydia went low, sending a thrust into the man’s abdomen.

  “Your brother’s in trouble. We need to help him now,” cried Lancelin over the sounds of battle.

  “How?” Lydia asked as she cut down another of Jorn’s men.

  How indeed? he thought.

  Then, an idea sprung on him: a false retreat.

  “We can feign a retreat to the tree line. From there we can hold the New Valkara forces at bay while the back lines can defend your brother.”

  Lydia grunted as she kicked her opponent to the ground and finished him with a downward heave of her sword.

  “Sounds like a good way to die. Let’s do it,” she huffed, standing ready for the next opponent.

  He gave her a nod and moved to find the nearest signal horn. He spotted the man near the back of the formation. He began to push his way through the men who were still eagerly awaiting their turn for battle. Panting, he reached the signal caller and gave him the order. The strange order made the man’s face drop into a distrusting look.

  “I said do it!” Lancelin barked.

  Shaking his head, the signal caller sucked in a breath of air and bellowed out the order. Soon Lancelin could feel the formation shift to the tree line. The mass of humanity stumbled to keep their formation in tact as they moved. He rushed to the back and directed his forces to their new target. Those in the back now saw their opportunity to fight and rushed forward to greet those attacking Aiden and his men. The maneuver worked. The New Valkaran forces turned in horror at the army rushing their flank. Many scrambled to pull together a defensive position, but they were smashed between the hammer and anvil.

  Lancelin and the others cut them down with ease as Jorn’s forces fought from both sides. Soon Lancelin and his men would experience the same, but he was confident they would break their foe before it would come to that. He watched as that belief came to fruition before his eyes. Slowly, panic began to settle over the New Valkarans. Row after row fell to the sword and a small number threw down their arms and fled. That small number grew until the whole regiment burst into unorganized panic. Warriors abandoned their lines, leaving their comrade’s flank exposed.

  As the New Valkarans fled, Lancelin could see into the tree line. A small skirmish had broken out between Aiden’s men and those who had switched sides. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Lydia and the others were holding their own against Jorn’s remaining forces. With a motion of his hand he called for a unit of men to follow him into the woods to aid Aiden in his desperate fight.

  The scene was chaos as none of the men bore the mark of the enemy. Each man fended for himself as he fought amongst the trees. Arrows zipped past, sinking into birch trunks and flesh alike. His concern was to find the young Valkaran prince in the midst of the chaos. He and his men fought their way into the woods and cut down any who approached. Finally, after some time, he could see a cluster of captains holding a defensive position among a small outcropping of rocks. As Lancelin and his men approached, a hail of arrows rained down on them.

  “We are on your side!” Lancelin barked.

  The men paid no mind and sent another set of darts raining down on them. Behind, a new group of soldiers were rallying together to take their shot at the foolish Leviatanas unit that had wandered into the woods. A soldier beside Lancelin gave him gave a chilling look.

  “I know, not good,” Lancelin said despairingly.

  That’s when the horn to retreat rang out. Each man turned to see Jorn and his army melting away in the distance. Somehow, despite the treachery, they’d won. He glanced around and saw the faction who had placed their hopes in New Valkara flee into the open field, chasing after their new master. The rest hurriedly vanished deeper into the woods. Even the small battalion guarding the rocks behind them had disappeared. Each man with him breathed a sigh of relief.

  It wasn’t long before Lydia came searching for them in the woods. He cracked a smile at her approach but was greeted with a frown.

  “What’s the matter? You look as though we didn’t just survive a treacherous battle.”

  “He got away, Lancelin,” she said, fury causing her voice to shake.

  “Who…” he started to say, then stopped. Ah…who else could it be? he thought. “There will be a day when he pays for what he has done.”


  “We keep saying that, but that day still has not come,” she said crossing her arms.

  He let out a breath, knowing now was not the time to argue about such matters.

  “We should find your brother.”

  “He’s not here?”

  “He and his men have retreated into the woods,” Lancelin said, motioning with his head.

  She shook her head. “What have we really accomplished then?”

  “Sometimes, it's just survival,” he answered.

  Lydia fixed her gaze on the woods. “I’ll go speak with him.”

  “What will you say?”

  Her emerald eyes hardened. “It’s time to end this.”

  4

  Imari

  Imari watched as Geralt stooped down to stare into the empty tomb. His wrinkled face bore an expression of joy at the sight. With giddiness he turned to face Titus and Imari.

  “I told you! He is alive. This confirms it.”

  Titus held his chin, unsure of what to make of all this. Geralt sighed at the skepticism painted on the High King’s face.

  “You believe me, don’t you, Imari?” he pleaded.

  “I… I cannot doubt what I see. The tomb is empty. It’s just…”

  “Why would Eloy appear to the drunkard out of all of us? Is that what you want to say?” frowned Geralt.

  Imari could feel the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck. “Why would he not appear before us as well? Why leave you with the message?”

  Geralt threw up his hands. “How should I know? Has Eloy ever done anything that didn’t have a shroud of mystery around it?”

  Titus spoke abruptly, “We need to keep this to ourselves.”

  Imari and Geralt turned to to the king, his face still frozen in thought.

  “And why is that? This is good news!” Geralt protested.

  A flash of annoyance filled Titus’ face. “We still do not know what has happened. Imagine if word gets out that Eloy is missing. Every beggar who knows a corpse will come out of the woodwork proclaiming it’s him, and we will never discover the truth.”

  “So what?” asked Geralt.

  “We do what we can to discover the truth.”

  “What if the truth is already in front of you?” countered Geralt.

  “Then it will be made plain soon enough,” Titus said in a tone to end his protests.

  “Friends, we will find the root of this mystery. No need to hold hostilities toward one another.” Imari said.

  They both gave a faint smile as they looked to the Khosi. Imari only hoped he was right. This was a mystery that could quickly become clouded in myth and falsehood.

  “We should go back up top. I am sure there are already rumors I will need to squelch with the guard.”

  “What would you have me do?” asked Geralt.

  “There is another mystery that needs to be tended to that I would like your assistance with,” Titus said.

  Geralt gave him a nod. “Anything is better than waiting in the slums for you two to try and solve this.”

  Titus turned to Imari. “What about you, Khosi? What will you do now?”

  “There are still a number of things that I need to handle back in Khala. After they are taken care of I will return to help you in anyway I can.”

  The two men embraced. “You have been a faithful friend, Imari. Know that you and your kingdom are always welcome.”

  Geralt gave Imari a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, Khosi. Thanks for delivering the message.” His eyes flickered over to Titus.

  “It is my pleasure. I see you took a cue from me about the hair,” he said, chuckling at Geralt’s handiwork.

  “Ehhh, you have a good idea here and there,” Geralt said with a smirk.

  With that, Imari bowed and took his leave. Ascending the stairs he was greeted by a squad of guards whispering as they peered down into the catacombs.

  “Titus will have his hands full indeed,” he mused.

  He wasted no time in finding the Khalan envoy that had accompanied him. They had followed his orders and had prepared for their return journey. He had left later than he had wished, but the sweeping plains on the way to Khala were a familiar road to travel, even in the dark.

  Finally, the day arrived when the royal envoy reached the towering walls of Khala. The palace was shaped in a ziggurat and could be seen over the walls as they approached, as if to greet them. The four pillared towers stood sentinel over the city. Their watching eyes awake for any who would dare strike again. Khala’s sufferings, however, had not come at the hands of the obvious invader but through treachery and deceit. This type of infiltration had hounded both his father and himself. The violence done a little over a year ago had created doubt in many of Khala’s clansmen. Not to mention, he had marched their able-bodied warriors north not two days after the assault and only returned with a meager force.

  He did not question his decision. He knew he had chosen what was right. The consequences were what he dreaded. The bronze gates of the city creaked open as they received their Khosi. No grand celebration awaited him like his first return, only cautious glances and doubting eyes came from the people in the streets. Most of the city had been repaired. The markets flourished once more and the people crowded the streets in their usual trade. The wealth and resources of their home remained secure. The trust and allegiance of his people had been fractured.

  As they approached the palace, the muscular form of Khaleena and her trusted Masisi warrior Lombaku stood ready to greet him, a gesture Imari did not appreciate. The city was on the edge of fracturing and Khaleena had finally taken his old offer of inviting the Masisi into the city. She claimed it was to defend their people since Khala had so few warriors remaining after The Stand. Imari couldn’t fight the creeping suspicion that his sister doubted his leadership.

  Surely, she isn’t making a play for power? he thought.

  She moved forward to greet him, her vibrant red and black dashiki that could not conceal her scars swished in the breeze. Tight braids of hair were pulled back, revealing the deep wound that ran down the side of her cheek.

  A formal smile crossed her face as he approached. “Welcome home, brother. I trust your journey to Kingshelm was fruitful?”

  He shot a questioning glance at Lombaku before fixing his gaze on Khaleena. “It was. The tradesmen have promised us another year’s worth of stone to help build irrigation systems outside the city in exchange for precious jewels.”

  I found out Eloy may be alive in a miraculous rising from the grave, was also what he wanted to say, but he kept that thought to himself.

  “Very good. I am sure the prospect of a more secure crop output will make many of our people happy,” she said coolly.

  What are you hiding Khaleena? Do you plan to supplant me? Do you think I have failed our people so badly? he wondered.

  He shifted his eyes to Lombaku. The man towered over most who encountered him. His arms were as thick as tree trunks and his face, covered in traditional piercings, was perpetual stone. Like most of the Masisi, he was not known for his social etiquette.

  “Good to see you as well, Lombaku.”

  The Masisi warrior let out a disinterested grunt in reply. Unfazed, Imari turned back to his sister.

  “How have things been in Khala in my absence?”

  “An interesting development has occurred, brother. One that will demand your attention.”

  “What matter is this?”

  “Visitors from a most intriguing place. They await your arrival in the throne room.”

  With a cautious look, he stretched out his hand. “Lead the way then, sister.”

  She gave him a slight smile and turned to order the palace doors to open. Inside, the refreshing sound of water trickling reverberated off the walls. Imari took in the familiar sight of lush vegetation lit by the hollow ceiling. Their green display surrounded a fountain at the center of the room. The ancient foun
tain decorated with tales of Khala’s history now carried a plastered line across its face. A scar to remind them of the danger of Sahra. At least that was the rallying cry many clung to these days.

  The small party ascended the stairs to the right and moved up the layers of the palace until they reached the throne room doors. Two Bomani stood sentinel. A feeling of sorrow passed over him as he inspected them. The Bomani had been whittled down to dust in the conflicts that had happened a little over a year ago. Even the famed leader and drillmaster Imamu had paid with his life. Only now had the Khosi’s ancient guardians begun to regain their strength under a new leader.

  The throne room’s doors swung open and out of them came just that man. Impatu stood tall. The year of trials and battle had crafted the young Khalan into a seasoned warrior. His once thin and youthful appearance had filled in its form. His hair was shaved to the skin on the sides and pulled back tightly on the top, in the traditional way of the Bomani. His face cracked into his familiar smile at the sight of Imari.

  “Khosi! You’ve returned. Incredible timing at that.” He moved to embrace Imari in a manner that few dared. Imari opened his arms to greet his friend. Pushing him away, he examined the young warrior.

  “I noticed a few more dressed in the Bomani fashion around the city on my arrival. This is good news, so long as you aren’t going easy on them, friend,” he said chuckling.

  “I would never, Khosi. It is true our numbers are finally beginning to rise. The first class of Bomani have passed their trial not two weeks ago.”

  Imari’s eyes shifted to peer inside the throne room. He could just make out a cluster of men in varying colored robes. Impatu took note of his gaze.

  “Our new arrivals,” he said.