A Sea of Cinders Read online

  William quickly made his way toward the other prisoners. He didn’t want to spend another second so close to such a beast.

  ***

  They were brought to the eastern bailey, where a handful of soldiers began removing the shackles on the prisoners’ legs. William was relieved to know he wouldn’t have to march countless miles bearing the iron cuffs. He already could feel his left foot bruising, and he feared it would only get worse.

  Once all the shackles were removed, Darith approached the group of them. The sound of his heavy, armoured footsteps was the only sound that could be heard as he approached. None of the prisoners made a peep. Most of them knew who Darith was, and so the second he began walking towards them all their muttering voices came to an immediate halt.

  “As you can see, your shackles have been removed. This doesn’t mean you’re free men, so don’t get any ideas, you hear? Any runners will have to deal with me. And trust me, you don’t want that! Aric here has been put in charge of watching you bastards,” Darith said, gesturing to the armoured soldier beside him. “Aric is one of the youngest in the Braxi army. However, he has proven himself over the years. He started out as my squire and quickly moved up in rank. His weapon of choice is the battle axe, but he can throw a spear further than most men, and he has deadly aim at that. If you think you can outrun Aric’s spear, you’ll be sadly mistaken,” Darith said with a grin. “The rest of the army is waiting outside the gate. You’ll follow behind until we reach the forest, then you’ll have your chance to be free men. Keep a steady pace and make sure you hold on to those waterskins. Any prisoner without one will lose more than just their freedom.”

  William was glad knowing Darith wouldn’t be the one leading them to the forest of Rhan. He frightened him more than any other he had met in Havelmir thus far. Even Odo seemed kinder than this brute, he thought.

  Then it dawned on him: he wouldn’t be seeing Gus after all. His footsteps grew heavy, and his gaze fell upon the hard ground. He’d been looking forward a great deal to spending more time with Gus. He hoped his absence wouldn’t give off the wrong impression. He had always been a man of his word, and it saddened him to know Gus may think otherwise. He promised himself that, if he made it out of the Elven wood alive, he would come back and visit Gus. It was the least he could do for a good friend.

  William glanced back at the high stone walls surrounding Havelmir. It was a good feeling, leaving the kingdom, even if he was headed to a more dangerous place. He was relieved knowing he would soon be far from the hardened kingdom. It was similar to the feeling he used to get after sailing out of harsh waters at sea.

  William was then struck by the sight in front of him; six thousand Braxi soldiers stood in place, fully armoured and ready for battle. They were as impressive as they were intimidating. He had never seen anything like it. Their jet-black armour stole the light of the sun, and gave them a look of pure evil.

  The Braxi were strong, fierce warriors, known for their hard steel and brute force. Many claim that the steel of their shields could crush a man's breastplate with a single blow. The blacksmiths of Havelmir were some of the best in the land. Their weapons and armour were forged of black iron, a rare but extremely durable metal. A finished cuirass had been known to break swords upon contact and deflect arrows as if they were made of straw. William felt safe being led by such a menacing force. He doubted anyone would be foolish enough to attack them on their way to Rhan.

  ***

  When he reached the other prisoners positioned behind the Braxi army, he was met by yet another intimidating force. Standing between him and the soldiers were five immense wooden catapults. Each of these death contraptions had been fastened onto the backs of two oxen. William felt bad for the kind beasts. Having to haul over one thousand pounds of wood and iron for the next few days seemed rather cruel. However, this was the least of his worries. William hadn’t forgotten about his friend from the dining hall. He quickly began browsing through the countless faces in front of him, hoping that Garid was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to keep as much distance between them as possible, as he was certain the brute would make his journey even more grueling than it already was.

  He already stopped me from eating once. If he does it again, I won’t be able to go on. And any men who fall will surely be disposed of quickly.

  William decided to stay near the outer edge of the group. He figured that if Garid were to try anything, at least this way one of the patrolling soldiers would likely notice. As he shuffled through the prisoners, he heard someone’s low whisper.

  “Who you running from, friend?” the voice asked.

  William turned to the voice. A tall, lanky man—who appeared in his late thirties—was staring down at him. He didn’t recognize the skinny prisoner, but he had kind eyes and an expression that said, I’m just as worried as you are. William felt the man was no threat, and he even considered him to be someone he could talk to during their long trek to the Elven wood.

  “I’m not running, just keeping my distance,” William replied.

  “Garid, eh?” the skinny man predicted.

  William was caught off guard by his answer “Yes … how did you—?”

  “I saw what he did during the feast. He’s a real bastard, him. You must be starving.”

  William nodded. “I should be fine, unless that was our last meal for the day.”

  “Nay, I heard one of the soldiers talkin’ about the prisoner’s food. What cart it was in and such.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’m William, by the way. Nice to meet you,” he said with a nod.

  “Noll,” the frail man replied. “Likewise. It’s good to know I’ll have someone to talk to during our march.”

  William felt a little better now. Like he was less alone, less out of place among this batch of thieves, killers, and simply unlucky men.

  ***

  After the first few hours on the road, William noticed Noll struggling with his waterskin. The ones given to the prisoners were quite large, but only weighed between ten to fifteen pounds—which wasn’t much, but Noll had the arms of an overgrown teenager. William wanted to encourage him, but he was hesitant to speak after what happened on the road a ways back. Two of the prisoners had been talking to each other when Aric whacked them in the back of the knees with the blunt end of his spear. He’d claimed they were hatching an escape plan. William wasn’t sure if this claim was true, or if it was just an act of intimidation. Nevertheless, it worked. He and Noll had hardly spoken since.

  It wasn’t until Noll’s arms started shaking that William knew he had to do something. He remembered what Darith told them earlier that day.

  Anyone without their waterskin will lose more than just their freedom.

  He wasn’t prepared to let Noll die. He began studying Aric’s movements, along with the other patrolling soldiers. He was watching for a window of safety, where he could help Noll relieve his burden of weight. Once he saw the opportunity, he didn’t waste any time.

  “Noll … Noll! Pass me your waterskin!” William said.

  Noll was reluctant. How could he know that William had found a small gap in the soldiers’ patrols? “No you can’t,” Noll said shaking his head.

  William ignored the lanky man’s stubbornness and grabbed the waterskin from his wobbly grip. “Trust me,” William said. He pointed to the soldiers, insinuating his understanding of their movements.

  Noll caught on, finally stretching out his arm. They felt weaker than a brittle branch in the heart of a winter’s storm.

  William watched intently, making sure they wouldn’t be seen. He desperately hoped they were going to stop and set up camp soon. One waterskin was bearable, but the weight of two would eventually steal his remaining strength. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep Noll safe from the wrath of the menacing Braxi, but he was determined to give it his all.

  William continued to take turns with Noll, bearing the weight of his waterskin throughout the day. Time proceeded to drag
on at an unbearable pace, and when their shadows grew long and thin, William couldn’t help but feel like they had been walking forever.

  Just when he felt as though his arms could take no more, a loud voice yelled out.

  “Halt!” Aric shouted. “We’re done for the day, men. Stay put, unless you’re asked to move! We’ll set up camp here for the night!”

  The relief William felt was indescribable. He never thought the day would come where a Braxi soldier’s words would bring a smile to his face.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Burning of Rhan

  The next morning, William felt a sudden thud of pain in his lower gut.

  “Get up!” a voice shouted. It was Aric, who was standing over him with lifeless eyes and a mean snarl. “Ready yourself, maggot. And no helping the other prisoners today.”

  William’s eyes widened and he felt his face flush. He suddenly realized he hadn’t been as careful as he had originally thought. A worried feeling fell over him, similar to how a child must feel after being caught in the act of troublemaking.

  “You think you’re clever, eh?” Aric asked. “Well I’m sure your friend Noll did as well. But don’t go worrying about him. He won’t be holding us back anymore. We’ve no room for the weak on this journey,” Aric said with an intimidating stare.

  William put a hand over his stomach. He was almost too scared to stand up, but he figured Aric would’ve already inflicted some form of punishment upon him if he’d truly intended to.

  A kick to the gut isn’t that bad. At least Darith wasn’t the one to wake me, William thought. He then thought back to what Aric had said about Noll. He hoped they hadn’t killed the poor boy. He tried to tell himself that Noll had just been sent back to the prisons, but he knew this likely wasn’t the case. The bitter truth was that Noll had been killed, and now he felt responsible for the matter. A lump rose in his throat. He no longer felt hungry, but he knew he had to eat. Another day of marching on an empty stomach and I’ll surely end up like Noll, along with all the others unable to keep up.

  William joined the other prisoners for a quick breakfast consisting of fried pork and pottage.

  Afterward, he found himself alone again. He was left with the guilt of leaving one friend behind and having had another killed. His time spent on land thus far had proved to be nothing but punishing. He now understood why his father had wanted nothing to do with the dryfoot. Life away from the sea is so controlling. He felt as if every decision he made fell into the hands of whichever king loomed over the region. His actions were predetermined no matter what. Whether his choices were acceptable or not, before he had the time to decide for himself a higher power had already chosen for him. Living under the rule of one mind didn’t make sense to him—truthfully, he found it sickening.

  William used this hatred to his advantage. He let it fuel him with every step he took. The way he saw it, the closer he got to Rhan, the closer he came to living at sea again. To him, being free in Cellagor wasn’t true freedom at all, but rather an illusion of freedom compared to the life he was used to.

  William knew he had a long few days ahead of him. But he also knew it would all be worthwhile if he managed to make it out of the Elven wood alive.

  ***

  Fordro rode alongside his older brother, Dadro Braxis. They were accompanied by Darith (The Bastard) Gollyeth and the foreign pyromancer, Aleister of Melderwin. The pulsing sound of the Braxi army marching behind him fueled his confidence as they drew closer to Rhan. He had never been to war before and, because of this, he was more determined than ever to prove himself worthy of the Braxis name. All of the men in his family, both past and present, were known for their skills on the battlefield. He wanted nothing more than to carry out the tradition. He’d looked forward to this day for many years, and now that it had finally come, he had never been more eager to end the lives of his enemies.

  His fighting style differed from that of his fellow brethren; he excelled in the art of sword fighting, while most others preferred the crushing power of a war hammer or battle-ax—which most of the Braxi were known for using. He had won many fights in past tournaments, yet this was the first time he would truly be judged as the young heir of Havelmir.

  Fordro rode in silence for most of his journey, preparing himself mentally for the battle to come. However, this all changed on the last day of their trek, when he finally witnessed the staggering height of Mount Abyss for the first time. The sight of the endless mountain brought to mind thoughts of his great grandfather, Roald Braxis, who fell in the War of the Fallen.

  He’d been told countless stories of this woeful day when he was still a mere child. How the ground split open and swallowed thousands of men at a time. How the fearsome mountain grew from the depths below, reaching far beyond the clouds above. Many had claimed that the mountain reached all the way into the Eternal Gardens, far above where the gods would sit and watch as mortal life played out beneath them. Until now, he had never thought this part of the story possible. The mountain seemed to go on forever. Its colossal size could cover one hundred kingdoms. Just to circle it alone would take a month. He had never seen anything of such proportion before. It left him in awe, realizing that all the stories he had heard fell short of describing it.

  “I never knew such a thing could exist,” Fordro said to his brother.

  “I felt the same way the first time I laid eyes on her,” said Dadro. “Do not forget that you are only seeing her from the neck up, though. I’ve stood at the waist of Mount Abyss. Her size is something you must witness to believe. Rock, and rock alone, is all you’ll see, no matter how far your eyes take you. Some say the mountain has no end. Some say the gods sit at the top … I believe the peak is crusted in a thick layer of ice, with nothing but clouds to keep it company. Such a marvel had never been before its existence. This world is filled with many wonders, but she towers over them all.”

  Dadro spoke in an unrecognizable tone. Fordro’s brother had never put anything above himself before, yet he spoke of the mountain as if it held a higher power, even over him. Fordro took a moment to think before his response. “Aye. It’s something I’d only expect in a dream.”

  “Well this is no dream, brother. Get that straight. The Elves we ride against are capable of conjuring such things.”

  Fordro nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry, brother. I shall strike down any who cause a threat. History will not repeat itself today.”

  Dadro grinned slightly, nodding at the words of his brother.

  ***

  The sun was setting as the army of Havelmir came within sight of the great wood of Rhan. Six long days had come and gone since they left their daunting kingdom in the north. The seventh day was nearing its end.

  The Elves were completely unaware of the approaching Braxi army. Nearly a century had passed since a war of this magnitude. Yet in that time the human armies had grown and so the age of tranquility was coming to an end. Rhan was the smallest of the remaining Elven Kingdoms, located in the Fairlands south of Dale, backing onto the cliffs of Tullin’s Bay. The peaceful Elven wood had seen no war for many years—small battles, yes, but nothing compared to what was soon to come. The Braxi drew closer with every passing second. By nightfall, Rhan would be under attack, and the unknowing Elves would soon learn that the time of war was upon them once again.

  “We're close now. Rally the prisoners ahead, and make sure each of them has their waterskin!” Dadro said in a deep, regal voice.

  “Yes, my Lord. We shall burn this forest to the ground,” Darith replied as he rode up beside his King.

  Dadro grinned in response. He had never been closer to vengeance than he was at this moment. This was the day he would redeem his family’s honour and become the first to reign victorious against the Elves. The possibility of defeat was unfathomable; he had never been so sure of anything in his life. He would even fight the entire Elven army single-handedly if he had to.

  There was no turning back. It was no quarter.

/>   ***

  Darith rode toward the prisoners atop his burly war-horse with his head cocked and his shoulders firm. His overhanging brow almost hid his eyes, making them seem as dark as the entrances to caverns. Most of the prisoners fell silent as he approached. The lot of them were still unsure if they were going to win their freedom or if they were all going to die. The idea of prisoners going to war alongside the Braxi was unheard of. It didn't make sense—but neither did giving up a chance at freedom.

  “Alright, men. Start moving. If any of youse try to run, I’ll cut you down and strap you to one of the catapults. Let’s see how far you can fly.”

  As the prisoners started to move, one of the older lags collapsed from exhaustion. They had been marching since dawn and the scraps they were given weren't nearly enough to keep the old man going.

  “What's this ... tired, are you?” Darith asked, with a hint of evil in his voice. He grinned as he dismounted his horse. “If you can't walk, what good are you, old man?” The weary man's response was too faint to make out. “Speak up!” Darith shouted, now lifting the old man off the ground.

  “Hungry, sir.” The words barely escaped his dry mouth.

  “Ohhh. Hungry, are we? Haven't had enough to eat then?” Darith said, nodding with a crude sarcasm. “Well I can help with that. Here, let me fill your belly.”

  Before the elderly man could process what he heard—if indeed he thought he heard correctly—Darith thrust his short sword through the old man’s stomach and out his back. Blood poured through his thin, wrinkled fingers as he held his stomach in shock.

  “There, how's that? Full, are we?” Darith laughed as he pulled his sword from the old man’s gut. Then he sheathed his sword and yelled out, “Anyone else hungry!?”