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The Empire of Nak Drakas
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They’d gone to the heart of their enemy, and they were undone.
Christina leaned over the rampart. The battle waged below and around her. Low scudding clouds came ashore, swirling around the grey, forbidding rock of the Citadel. A cheer went up from below: the Drakans had finally retaken the Citadel’s Main Gate. Rifle fire from the Tivorians dropped off to a few scattered shots.
“They’re coming,” gasped Alex.
Christina whirled, her great two-handed broadsword bloody in her hand. She ran to the spiral steps that led into the depths of the keep. The jingle of harness, trod of heavy boots, and the grunts of men proceeded the Drakans. Alex sat propped against the wall near the portal. He was dying. A spear thrust had missed his shield and impaled him in the side.
She waited, braced at the head of the stairs, her shield slung across her back. Holding her sword in both hands, she’d defend the top step, and then when they forced her back around the corner, Alex would stab them from where he sat. They’d have to come at her single file.
A shadow proceeded the first Drakan. He came up the steps at a run, shield at the ready, sword pumping up and down.
Christina watched him come. She backed two paces. The black anvil embossed on the green shield stayed her swing.
The soldier landed on the top step and gave her a concerned glance as he searched for an enemy. Though he didn’t know her, he knew who she was. “Need help?”
“Not here,” was her grim reply.
Three more Second Warders came behind him, followed by Lettern. “Dearest Mother, Alon,” she gasped, I was afraid we were too late,” but then she saw Alex slumped against the wall, his life draining away on the flagstones. Amongst the carnage in the tower, she saw the bodies of Christina’s five mercenaries.
“They trapped us here,” Christina said.
“Illy, quick, get one of your magic bandages.” Lettern bent low over Alex and lifted his chainmail and then the bloodstained leather jerkin underneath.
Christina watched the soldier, clearly not a Timberkeep but carrying a Second Ward shield. He pulled out an alien-looking package from a hip pouch.
“I’ve got one left after this, Lettern, and I’m saving it for you.” He stripped off a wrapper, tapped a pair of buttons, and the device came to life, lights glowing. He positioned it over the wound and tapped the Activate button.
When the man stood, Christina saw he had brown eyes, the same as Lettern. “Who is this?”
He gave her a seasoned smile of a person wholly comfortable amidst mayhem, disaster, or victory.
“That’s Illy,” answered Lettern as she watched her warders check the Lamaran mercs. “He’s an Avarian.”
Christina frowned, “Avarian?”
“Yea, like Achelous and Outish. You know, Ancients. We’ve brought more of them with us.” Lettern looked to Christina. “I work for them now, Alon. I’m IDB.”
The Foundry, Book 1
The Matriarch, Book 2
The Citadel, Book 3 (at reviewers)
The Loch Norim, Book 4 (in outline)
more to come
