If you haven't read Bound In Blood, you probably should, otherwise this might not make much sense.
Otherwise, enjoy! Reviews would be much appreciated too.
Chapter One
What Terror Hath Wrought
They were everywhere now.
Davion hacked down yet another shambling corpse with the greatsword, aware of the others fighting behind him. Eserren had given Mirana her bow, and she was shooting with difficulty from Sagan's saddle.
Up on the steps of the castle, Marci stood face-to-face with the possessed dragon.
Davion knew those eyes. One look at them and he had remembered who they belonged to: the Demon Terrorblade.
Though he still did not remember everything which had happened in the caves near Barreltown, he remembered the offers Terrorblade had made him. He remembered how tempting they had been.
He had heard what Terrorblade had offered Marci too.
And he could not blame her for wanting to accept them. Even as the Demon had offered his dark promises, a part of Davion had wanted Marci to give in.
How much better would it be for them if she had such great power? She would be able to protect them from any threat. And what a queen she would make!
And a voice… there had been many times when Davion had wondered what her voice would sound like if she could speak. Perhaps he could know.
Yet at the same time, he knew that if Marci accepted Terrorblade's offers, she would not live to benefit from them. He would use her as a vessel and consume her soul.
Mirana lifted her bow heavenwards and launched an arrow. Davion knew what was coming and prepared to barge through the un-dead. 'Eserren! With me!'
'Caewyn, cover us!' Eserren swept her massive bardiche through two rotten necks, sending heads with gore-encrusted lips flying.
Up on the steps, Marci had extended her hand. Davion swore and fought harder, yelling Marci's name.
Terrorblade laughed and prepared to force his essence into Marci. With her strength and mysterious, latent power at his command, his goal would be so much easier to accomplish.
Marci curled her fingers inward, forming a fist. Her face had hardened, her eyes refocused and harsh.
Looking straight into the eldritch voids which were Terrorblade's eyes, she extended her middle finger.
Terrorblade snarled and lunged at her.
Marci's eyes flared with golden light and she lashed out reflexively, her fist striking the dragon's head as it snapped at her.
Davion saw mottled scales fly. The dragon's head was smashed into the castle doors, splintering the heavy oaken doors.
With her eyes still filling with golden light, Marci took hold of the woman behind her and ran with her.
The Direstone resting in the middle of the wrecked scaffold pulsed. Marci was too close!
'Marci!' Davion bellowed. 'Get away from the stone!'
A silver rain of magical arrows fell upon the square, spearing the un-dead in droves. Davion and Eserren moved forwards, carving their way through the mass of rotten bodies. Caewyn and Mirana picked them off with crossbow and bow whilst Fymryn protected them. Caewyn and Mirana had both launched missiles at the Direstone, but they had bounced off without leaving a mark. Even Caewyn's modified bolts had no effect.
The stone was affecting the woman Marci was dragging across the square. She was empty-eyed and trying to reach the stone.
But Marci was somehow unaffected. With her eyes now full of golden light, she lifted the woman off her feet and carried her and her child to the other side of the square.
Terrorblade's avatar was advancing across the square. With a roar, he spread the dragon's wings and prepared to swoop.
'Cover your eyes!' Caewyn cried as she took aim, a strange bolt loaded into her crossbow. She yanked the trigger.
The bolt whizzed over the heads of the un-dead and struck the possessed sky dragon's head. There was sharp flash of white light and a shrill ringing din filled the air. Terrorblade, blinded by the bolt, recoiled, and his avatar slammed into the castle doors again.
'Focus on that dragon!' Eserren shouted, still cleaving through the un-dead. They had to keep them away from Marci.
Marci deposited the woman on the other side of the square and gestured forcefully, telling her to run. Now free of the Direstone's influence, the woman took off immediately, clutching her child to her chest.
But there was nothing they could do for the others. They had either succumbed to the Direstone's terrible influence and power or had fallen to the un-dead.
Any survivors, including King Dendrall, were shut up in the castle, which was now surrounded by a steadily growing army of un-dead and blocked by Terrorblade.
Caewyn slotted a new bolt into her crossbow, aimed at the dragon's right forelimb, and launched it. The bolt sank into the fleshy armpit and made an odd hissing noise.
Davion had no idea what to expect. He certainly did not expect it to explode.
It was not an enormous explosion, but it tore a substantial chunk out of the dragon's wing, blasting flesh and scales through the air.
Howling, the avatar careened, blood spraying from its ruined limb. Caewyn had crippled it. Now Terrorblade would not be flying after them any time soon.
Eserren took this as their opportunity to withdraw. There were simply too many un-dead to contend with, and more guards were arriving. Not only would these guards likely become un-dead too, they were also preparing to attack the living. They must have mistaken them for the culprits behind the attack.
Arrows and bolts whizzed towards them, and the guards charged at them with their weapons drawn even as the Direstone's influence touched their comrades. Its radius was spreading, the stone was growing in power as it gained more thralls.
Eserren climbed onto her horse and held out her hand, yanking Fymryn onto the saddle behind her. Marci jumped onto Sagan's saddle as Davion climbed up behind Caewyn. The blonde elf was so diminutive he could see right over her head.
'Hang on tight!' Caewyn warned. She kicked her horse's flanks. The animal reared, then charged after Eserren's horse and Sagan. Davion clung to the saddle with one hand, the other still clutching his stolen sword.
The bells were still ringing. The fire Fymryn had started was spreading out of control, and the Direstone had now created a small army for Terrorblade. How he had control over them and the stone, Davion did not know. All he knew was that they would be overwhelmed or enthralled if they stayed. Only Marci had escaped the stone's influence, either due to her strong will or her strange power, and there were too many risen corpses for even her to overcome.
Though it was painful to acknowledge, they really had no choice but to run. Against a Demon with a Direstone at his command, their deaths were a certainty.
At least they had left the gates open. They hurtled past ragged lines of fleeing citizens. Very soon, the city of Trestaine would be home only to the dead. In hundreds of years, it had never faced an enemy such as this. The city of stone had withstood many sieges in the past, stood for months and even years against foreign invaders.
Today, it fell in a matter of hours.
Trapped in his castle, King Dendrall would eventually die. The un-dead would force their way inside, and he would either take his own life or be torn apart. Nobody would know the truth when the ambulatory cadavers were done with his remains.
Without a King or his heirs, Kestren would be left vulnerable, its once populous and strong capital now full of blood and corpses, moving or otherwise. The survivors would flee across the country, maybe further.
A few lax guards had fallen asleep when they should have been watching from the walls, ready to man the ballistae if a dragon attacked. That was all it had taken for the city, and consequently the kingdom, to fall. Jealous neighbours would take advantage of the chaos and the vacuum of power, and soon Kestren would only be a name in history books.
Davion felt responsible. If they had not been distracted by the impending executions of him and Marci, the guards might have been more attentive.
Though he still did not remember what Terrorblade wanted, he knew that it was nothing good. He had the uncanny feeling that Slyrak had forced his soul into his body to somehow escape Terrorblade.
Davion could hear the weird sounds of the warbler in his head as they rode, and he could see it pulsating in one of Caewyn's saddlebags. A small spurt of anger rose in him, along with the desire to destroy the thing.
He was fed up of being kept in the dark, especially now. They needed answers, one way or another.
They rode for as long as they could, until they were forced to stop. They could not drive their mounts much further, not without rest.
Eserren chose an old way-station located in a recessed cavern. There were several hidden throughout the province, intended to act as outposts of soldiers in time of war, if the country was ever overrun by a foreign army. These old positions were by and large disused now.
Eserren and Caewyn had made a point of memorising the whereabouts of these hidden way-stations. Both them wasted no time in securing the entrance, shutting the gates camouflaged with branches of local foliage.
Marci was hunched up in the corner, her forehead pressed against her knees. Mirana was next to her, having been carefully placed there by Eserren. She was speaking softly to Marci, but for once her words were little comfort to her handmaiden.
Fymryn was shaking, and she looked like she was about to be sick. Davion understood her revulsion. It was a first for him too, seeing a city fall like that. Caewyn and Eserren were rattled, but handling it better.
'What was that?' Fymryn disturbed the sole sound of shaky breathing at last.
'A Direstone.' Eserren answered in a low murmur.
'A piece of the Mad Moon.' Mirana added. 'I thought that Davion and Marci might have seen one in the Broken Peaks. I never expected to see one myself. I'd hoped never to see one.'
'I think it was the same one.' Davion muttered. 'And that dragon was possessed by a Demon.'
'That might explain why the stone didn't affect it.' Mirana said, paling at the thought.
'It's called Terrorblade.'
They all stared at him in shock. Even Marci looked up, and Davion saw that there were tears in her eyes. He wanted to comfort her, but before he could approach she wiped her eyes and blinked furiously, forcing herself to focus.
'You know it?'
'I remembered him.' Davion explained. 'He was in the caverns near Barreltown, where that Eldwurm was sleeping.'
'Uldorak.' Eserren supplied. 'He was reported dead, found next to Slyrak's corpse.'
'The other earth dragons across the world have been going mad.' Caewyn added as she lit a fire in the brazier. 'What does this Terrorblade want? And does it have anything to do with how you ended up with Slyrak's soul?'
'Maybe?' Davion rubbed the back of his neck.
Caewyn scoffed unexpectedly. When they stared at her next, she shrugged. 'Sorry. It's just… this Demon goes around calling himself Terrorblade. It's sounds a bit silly, really.'
'Caewyn,' Eserren sighed, 'you saw what happened. I think he lives up to his name.'
Caewyn became subdued again and nodded, her expression sombre.
Davion propped his sword against the wall. 'Now what, Eserren? Do you still intend to take us to Dragon Keep?'
Eserren ran a hand through her cropped hair, thinking hard. The firelight flickered off her scarred face, tiny tics of emotion barely noticeable as she considered. 'No. This Demon must be after you, Davion, and there can only be one reason why: Slyrak's soul. No, we'll go to Steelpoint Vigil instead.'
Marci jumped to her feet and shook her head, glaring at Eserren.
'Hear me out,' Eserren held up a hand as Caewyn subtly reached for her baselard. 'I'm not about to let them kill any of you, by any means.' She sighed. 'At the very least, it's clear to me that you, Marci, are no Demon.' A small smile twitched her lips. 'You'd make a good knight, Marci.'
Marci still seemed downcast.
Eserren continued to speak. 'Vylgranox is still hunting you, and now we have a Demon to contend with. Steelpoint Vigil is heavily defended and difficult to attack. It's a good place to make a stand.'
'What about Davion?' Fymryn demanded, still sounding shaky. 'And what about Mirana's mission?'
Mirana stood now, helped up by Marci, looking conflicted. 'We… we're trying to find a sage. We were hoping he might be able to help Davion too.'
Eserren glanced at Caewyn, who shrugged. 'Can you keep control, Davion?'
Davion indicated Caewyn's bags. 'If you can keep that warbler working, maybe.'
'It should last another week.' Caewyn said. 'But what does Terrorblade want?'
'I don't know.'
'I think we can all agree that it's nothing good.' Mirana stated quietly.
Eserren seemed to have come to a decision. 'Then you may consider us allies, for the time being. No matter what you are, Terrorblade is the greater threat.' She extended her arm. Mirana hesitated, then shook her hand. 'If your sage cannot help Davion, then we'll take him to Steelpoint Vigil. You have my word that I will not allow him to come to harm. It will be a good place to make a stand against Terrorblade. If you and your handmaiden wish to leave at that point, I won't stop you.'
Marci immediately shook her head. Mirana glanced at her and sighed. 'Marci, we still have our duty to Selemene.' She quickly realised that Marci was in one of her stubborn moods again, and Davion was a friend to her too. 'We'll see what happens, Marci. Are we safe here, Lady Eserren?'
'For now.' She must have guessed what Mirana was thinking. Sagan and the horses needed to rest, and so did they. She took up her bardiche. 'I'll take the first watch.'
Marci whistled and indicated herself. She wanted to take the watch instead. Eserren did not argue.
Davion leaned against the wall and watched as the others became silent and introspective. Slowly, he sat down and allowed his eyes to close. After the hell they had just been through, sleep would be a blessing.
Slyrak was silent this time, probably because of the warbler. Davion had never really had much faith in the strange devices, they were prone to stopping without much warning. Now though, he was starting to appreciate them. As long as Caewyn could keep theirs working, he might get a little more sleep than usual.
A hand on his shoulder woke him. He yawned and blinked his eyes clear to see Fymryn gazing down at him. She looked concerned. 'What is it?'
Fymryn jerked a thumb at the entrance. 'Caewyn just relieved Marci, but she hasn't come back yet.'
Davion looked round. Mirana was fast asleep, as was Eserren. He could understand why Fymryn had come to him. Though Mirana would obviously be concerned about Marci, she couldn't go traipsing after her with a broken leg.
Davion picked up his sword. 'Stay here.' He just hoped that Marci had not wandered out of range of the warbler, although they had a pretty wide radius.
She could tell herself that the Demon had been lying. But his every word had tugged at both her most simplistic hopes and her deepest, darkest desires. She could tell herself that she had never wanted to be a ruler or some unstoppable juggernaut, but who didn't feel the allure of power?
And a voice… she had not spoken in fourteen years. She could tell people that she was used to it, but there were still moments when she wanted to speak. She wanted people to understand her without using Mirana as a translator. She would have loved to be able to sing again.
What would her voice sound like if she still had it?
And there was guilt, the Demon had been right about that. As often as she consoled herself using her oaths, he had been correct. There were times when the guilt threatened to consume her utterly.
Back in the palace, when she had been troubled like this, Hyses had encouraged her to channel her frustrations into physical activity, namely sparring.
On watch in the shadows outside the cave, she had been warring with the Demon's offers and her remorse. It was not just the way he had dredged up her fears and memories, that was far from being the worst of it.
What truly troubled her was how very close she had come to accepting his offers. She had nearly given in, and she was horrified and ashamed by her own weakness.
When Caewyn had relieved her, she had slipped away and found a small space for solace. It was close enough to the cave for her to run back if trouble found them, but far enough away that she could be alone.
She started slow, attacking an opponent she could see only in her mind's eye, fist and foot striking the air. Basic moves first, simple jabs and crosses, roundhouse and snap kicks, enough to warm her muscles. It helped to focus her mind, clear away her doubts and haunting memories.
As she fought the nothingness, she kept telling herself that she would never betray Mirana. The next time Terrorblade tried to tempt her, she would be stronger. She would strike first rather than let him speak, lest he turn her against her friends.
How could she even have thought of betraying her friends for her own gain? The accusing thought made her feel sick and she doubled her efforts, moving faster, hitting harder, her moves becoming more complex and demanding. Now she threw herself into spinning hammerfists and jumping kicks, air hissing between her bared teeth.
No offer of power could bring back the lost. She had made her choice, she had to live with it, for Mirana's sake. She had promised to protect her.
Her voice was gone forever, and no dark bargain was worth taking just for her own selfishness.
She spun, her leg transcribing a crescent-shaped arc which would have smashed ribs and pulped organs. She was pushing herself too hard, but she had to in order to dispel her anger and self-loathing. She recited the names of the attacks as she fought her invisible opponent, trying to drive away the dagger-sharp accusations in her mind.
Overhand, hook, spinning backfist. My father is dead. Snap kick, spinning back kick. My mother is dead. Bob-and-weave, uppercut, elbow strike. Tyras is dead. Moreus is dead. Bandus is dead. Jastin is dead. Jumping roundhouse, jab and cross, scissor kick, spinning crescent. Barrus is dead. Hyses is dead. The Emperor and Empress are dead. The Imperium suffers because I failed. I failed them. I failed them all.
I FAILED THEM! I FAILED THEM! I FAILED MIRANA!
THEY'RE ALL DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!
Marci kicked too hard and pulled a muscle. The shock of burning pain caused her to lose her balance and she stumbled, staggering heavily against a tree. Sweat dripped from her forehead and fringe, stinging her eyes and mingling with her tears.
They're all dead because of me.
Marci had not realised that she was crying. Now she broke down sobbing. Fresh anger and shame burned within and she lashed out, punching the tree out of desperate frustration. Blood coursed from her broken skin.
'Marci?'
It was Davion. Marci did not look round, unwilling to shame herself further. But he could easily see that she was upset.
She heard his footsteps as he approached. How long had he been watching?
'Marci,' his voice was softer now. The warmth and concern just made her feel worse. She didn't deserve his compassion. How much better would his life have been without her in it? And what about Mirana? She shook her head, wanting him to back off and leave her be.
What she wanted and what she needed were different matters though, something Davion understood. 'You're too hard on yourself, Marci.' He moved into sight, his expression sad. He was sad because of her, something else which caused the swelling upsurge of shame to grow. 'He offered me things too.' Davion told her, slowly and gently placing his hand on her shoulder. 'I almost gave in. He offered me the power to kill every dragon in the world, to avenge my family. He offered me glory, godhood, you name it. He even offered me you.
And I nearly gave in, Marci. I'm only mortal, and so are you.'
Marci looked up at him, her face wet with tears and her leg aching.
'But you refused. It doesn't matter that you were tempted, Marci, you refused. How many people could do the same?'
Marci sighed and lowered her head. Davion placed his finger under her chin and lifted it again, forcing her to meet his eyes. She felt like blubbering again, her throat was burning. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, that she didn't deserve his attention.
'You did a better job than me, Marci.' Davion smiled warmly at her, and she felt her squirming guilt start to melt, replaced by that stirring anticipation she had felt when he had held her for the first time, back amongst the Broken Peaks. 'I didn't give him the finger.'
A little smile forced itself onto her face. He had a knack for lifting a sad heart.
Davion coaxed her into his arms and she rested her head against his chest. 'You are the bravest, most selfless, most loyal, most stubborn woman I have ever met, Songbird.'
The burning in her throat subsided, and she felt heat in her cheeks instead.
'I trust you with my life, Marci.' Davion told her. 'And if you ever want to spar, I'd be happy to help. You'll win of course, but it'll still be fun.'
Marci huffed happily, still clinging to him. She could have held him for days. She wanted him, but once again this was neither the time nor the place, and she was still in a poor frame of mind. It wouldn't be right.
'Come on,' Davion said softly. 'Let's go back. I'll find some food for you and we can annoy Mirana by flirting a little more.'
That sounded fine to her. Marci smiled and allowed him to lead her away. She was never going to regret that chance meeting in Barreltown, no matter what happened.
They gathered in the shadows, their night-beasts growling quietly. They were eager to taste the blood of the foe, keen to fight and kill.
Luna surveyed the vague forms in the darkness which were her Moon Riders. The scouts and outriders would be in position by now, cutting off any means of escape for the villagers.
Nova was tense, ready to charge at her command.
For a moment, Luna let her doubts surface. She had killed innocents before, many times. She had not tried to stop out of remorse though, she had fled her homeland because she had been forced to run. It was that or die.
Tonight, many more innocents would die. Many would die upon her blades.
She quashed the nagging thoughts. These people were heretics. Selemene had given her a second chance. She had given Luna a purpose and a sacred calling to follow. A few deaths were a small price to pay for that generosity.
Luna lifted her blades, the edges catching the moonlight. The signal was repeated by her marshals and the Moon Riders advanced. The small clusters of infantry followed at a slower pace, fanning out to assist the outriders in blockading Coedwig. Clad in their dark blue armour, only their silvery blades reflected the moonlight.
There it was, a cluster of wooden structures, primitive and simple, gathered around a shrine to Mene.
The sight of the shrine stoked Luna's fervour and hatred. Now she knew that they did a righteous deed tonight.
Luna pointed her blade at the village and nudged Nova's flanks, spurring him into a loping run. The others matched her pace. The riders at the front lowered their glaives. The riders behind readied their falchions and axes.
With perfect timing, the archers lifted their bows. Silently, they nocked their arrows, drew back their bowstrings, and unleashed a lethal rain of steel and silver-tipped arrows. They kindled with white flame as caught the light of the moon, and arced down towards the oblivious village.
As Luna and her Moon Riders closed in, the arrows fell upon the buildings. The white flames caught in the thatched roofs and began to spread. A few struck wandering sentries. The lucky ones died instantly when arrows pierced their brains, but others ended up screaming and flailing ineffectually at the supernatural flames searing their flesh.
The few who realised that they were under attack had no chance of stopping the charging Moon Riders.
Luna threw her double-bladed weapon and it spun through the air, beheading one man and bifurcating the other before it returned to her hand. Men and women were impaled on the glaives of the first rank. The second rank cut the others down with their blades, or else let their night-beasts trample and maul them. Blood sprayed across fur and metal. Luna could taste it on her lips.
The fires were spreading, surging across wood and skin alike. The wailing and screaming of the burning, the wounded and the dying was everywhere now as Luna reached the shrine. With a cry of hatred, she hurled her blades at it. The moon-forged, blessed weapon sliced the shrine in half.
This was the death knell of Coedwig.
The few surviving fighters broke and ran, some of them casting down their weapons as they fled. That would not save them. Waiting for them was thicket of glaives supported by ranks of archers.
Nobody would escape tonight.
A young man with pale hair charged at Nova, a hatchet held above his head. Luna barked a command and Nova leapt upon him, enveloping most of his upper body in her jaws and biting down.
A young woman screamed as what remained of the elf fell back, spurting blood. Luna threw her blades at her, cutting off her wails and her head.
A cry which was equal parts fear, rage and sorrow warned her of a third attacker. She jerked her head back just in time to avoid the spear thrust at her neck.
Snarling at the temerity of the large elf, his eyes obscured by a dark fringe, Luna seized the spear and yanked the elf towards her. Nova turned and opened the elf's guts with her serrated claws.
Luna spotted another figure and hurled the spear at it, killing the elf instantly. Her blade returned to her hand, wet with blood. Her Moon Riders rampaged around the village, killing indiscriminately, singing hymns devoted to Selemene's glory as they concluded their ruthless work.
Luna turned away from the remains of Dyfed, Adara and Idwal, not knowing their names and not caring. As far as she was concerned, they were just more heretics who had deserved their deaths.
She ignored the cries of a child trapped in one of the burning homes as she slowly rode towards the edge of Coedwig.
Selemene would be pleased with her.
'Let the night-beasts feed and leave the rest for the crows.' Luna called. 'We will return to the Nightsilver Woods as victors.' She lifted her blades. 'In the name of Selemene, to whom we owe our love and lives.'
The other riders lifted their weapons and cried to the starry heavens above, 'In the name of Selemene, to whom we owe our love and our lives.'
Behind Luna, the child had stopped screaming, and the house collapsed into a ruin of smouldering timbers and charred bones.
A bit grim, I know, but here you have it: the start of Book Two. I hope you enjoyed Bound In Blood and I hope you all enjoy this story too. Reviews, as usual, would be much appreciated.
