Burden of Stones Read online

  "Five swords He gave to the Kings of the West,

  to fight and keep them free.

  One for the King in the Golden Wood,

  and one for the King by the sea.

  One sword for the King who ruled in the south,

  and sat on a mighty horse,

  one for the King in Ithlemere,

  who guarded the lands of the north.

  And the greatest He set with the jewel from his brow,

  and gave to the High King of all,

  and in his hands it caused the darkness,

  to waver, to flee, then to fall.

  Now the High King is gone and only two swords remain,

  in Brydium and Ail’'itharain.

  And Great Sword sleeps, it is wielded by none,

  it awaits on the isle,

  for the High King's son.

  Deathbane cries from its sleep,

  For Ljmarn's long lost son."

  Table of Contents

  PART V

  Chapter oneHigh Prince

  Chapter twoAnother Kiss

  Chapter threeFirst lesson

  Chapter fourLong Road South

  Chapter fivePass of Galhir

  Chapter sixBattle for Dorshev

  Chapter sevenLong live the Queen

  Chapter eightAnnawyn of Doridan

  Chapter nineTravel Plans

  Chapter tenLeavetaking

  Chapter elevenMureil’s Revenge

  Chapter twelveLeviathan

  Chapter thirteenAerfal’Miera

  Chapter fourteenLordsisle

  Chapter fifteenAn intriguing union

  Chapter sixteenTemple of the Sword

  PART VI

  Chapter seventeenYhsywndyr

  Chapter eighteenUl’gogrond

  Chapter nineteenLet’s get this war started

  Chapter twentySweet Rolls and other matters

  Chapter twenty-oneWinds of Aeralnen

  Chapter twenty-twoDorshev receives the King

  Chapter twenty-threeNew Prince and an Old Serpant

  Chapter twenty-fourTempered Wrath

  Chapter twenty-fiveSeigebreaker

  Chapter twenty-sixThe High King’s Stew

  Chapter twenty-sevenGathering Storm

  Chapter twenty-eightSecond Battle of the Bergaweld

  Chapter twenty-nineThe Great Khan

  Chapter thirtyBrother

  Chapter thirty-oneBurden of Stones

  Glossary

  Heir of Sword and Stone

  Book Three

  Burden of Stones

  Part V

  Chapter One

  High Prince

  "So it begins!"

  The dark-King's challenge echoed through Jack Braedan's mind like the distant rumble of thunder before an approaching storm. Graith, Son of Halbar, fallen Lord of the Staffclave, finder and master of the dread talisman Bloodstone, defeated by High-King Ljmarn but not slain, had awakened at long last from eight centuries of restless sleep. Deep within the bowels of Agash Thugar, the Iron Tower of Gorthiel, demons knelt in supplication before the transformed Hiru; more than human, but less than god. Black robed Sorcerers of the Sa'tan groveled in ecstasy, their fell powers swelling beyond anything they could have imagined while the Bloodstone's master slumbered. Beastly grim'Hiru, their warped souls exulting at the reawaking of their merciless leader, howled in lustful anticipation, eager to renew their war against the Children of Yh, mortal enemies whom they both hated and envied for the humanity they possessed. Mount Sheol, the volcano born when it had vomited forth the Bloodstone to trouble the world so long ago, rumbled to violent life once again, belching ash and smoke in answer to the monster who desired to cover the earthe in darkness and pain.

  “So it begins.”

  But Jack Braedan, Heir of Ljmarn Bra’Adan, last High King of Aralon, did not possess the one weapon powerful enough to stand against this coming storm. A thousand leagues to west, the Highsword Yhswyndyr, Lifebringer and Deathbane, rested in the Temple of the Sword on Lordsisle. Sunheart, the supernatural talisman embedded in the sword's hilt, silent since the death of Ljmarn Bra‘Adan seven hundred years ago, patiently waited for the touch of the one man who could summon forth its dormant powers.

  It waited for Jack Braedan.

  He had proclaimed himself to be a descendant of Ljmarn Bra‘Adan, had announced to the rulers of the Whesguard he was the long-exiled heir of Aralon's last High King, now Braedan only needed to touch the sword to prove his heritage. No one could deny him that right. Sunheart itself would validate or refute his claim, for no one but a true descendant of the Bra‘Adan line could touch Yhswyndyr and live.

  Yet would he be given a chance to prove his claim?

  Even as the traitorous Kiathan Ellgaer, deposed Swordmaster and would be usurper of the Ivory Throne of Doridan, lay battered and defeated on the field of Ljmarn Haelfest, even as Jack stood triumphantly before the gathered Kings of the Whesguard, even as the echo of his startling declaration to his lineage was still being processed by the astonished spectators of the Haelfest, he could hear the rumble of approaching hooves.

  Jack turned from the shocked spectators and looked to the northern entrance of the stadium. Riders dressed in the scarlet and black of Raashan were pouring onto the field. His gaze quickly found Kiathan, still kneeing injured on the grass. Though pain clouded his face, the duke slowly smiled at him with a look of sinister triumph. The look sent a chill down Braedan's spine. Though dark foresight or by the command of his secret master in Gorthiel, the Duke Raashan had planned for the possibility of his defeat. Braedan may have taken the title of Swordmaster from Kiathan, but it was plain he would not be given the opportunity to bring the man to justice. Nor would his claim to be Ljmarn’s heir would mean anything if Kiathan’s soldiers slaughtered him on the field of Ljmarn’s Haelfest.

  The Raashani horsemen were perhaps one hundred yards away. Jack was less than thirty from the injured duke. He could cover the short distance in seconds end the murderous traitor's life with a single sword stroke, but in doing so, his own life would likely be forfeit. Torn with momentary indecision, Jack's choice was taken away from him when Borg Cassaban grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and spun him about.

  "Don't even think about it!" Cassaban shouted, pushing Jack toward the southern exit of the stadium.

  "We can't let Kiathan escape!" Braedan argued.

  "Those Raashani aren't here to rescue Kiathan," Borg replied, continuing to herd Jack toward the southern exit. "They're here to kill you! Now move dammit! For the love of Yh, move! Before they cut us off completely!"

  Even as Borg voiced his fear, Braedan could hear more horsemen approaching through the tunnel at the southern end of the stadium as well. Cut off now, their only means of escape became pedestrian exits scattered throughout the enormous arena, and those were packed with spectators fleeing the chaos which was quickly engulfing the Haelfest.

  Cassaban moved to place himself between Braedan and the new threat, hoping to give the newly announced heir the few seconds he would need to reach the relative protection of the crowds. When the first rider appeared from the southern tunnel however, Jack met the sight with a shout of triumph! The riders were not dressed in Raashani red and black, but in armor of thunder cloud gray and carried shields of blue with a lightning bolt emblazoned on its face!

  The Galekindar had finally arrived!

  As Amarian's began pouring into the Haelfest stadium, Jack ventured a quick look behind him. Kiathan had made it to his feet and was staggering toward the safety of his Raashani troops. Even as he watched, one of the riders jumped from his saddle and helped the wounded duke onto his horse. Then Galekindar rode thundering by and he lost sight of the traitor.

  As the Amarian's forme
d a protective circle around Braedan and Cassaban, one of the riders jumped from his horse and strode purposefully toward them. He was a towering man, six and a half feet tall, with a patch over his left eye, and dark hair with a lot more gray in it than Jack remembered.

  "What did I miss?" Tarsus smiled, embracing his friend with as much comradeship as each man's armor and drawn swords would allow.

  When Braedan had last seen the Amarian, he and Maelcain of the Jahrkirin, were forcing him to flee while they stayed behind to face a dragon and the horde of grim'Hiru pouring from Agash Thugar. Until this instant, Jack had not known whether either of his friends had survived that snowy morning. Though words could not express the relief he felt at seeing the Tarsus, their reunion would have to be short lived.

  "Kiathan is escaping!" Jack cried, pointing with his sword back to where the duke had disappeared among the charging Raashani horsemen.

  Tarsus nodded, giving him a hardy clap on the shoulder. "Be back in a bit," he grinned. "Rolf! Unnul! Erik! Stay with Jack!"

  Without another word, Tarsus remounted his horse and charged off toward the Raashani. The leading ranks of the Galekinder closed with of the men of Raashan and the two forces met with a resounding clash of steel on steel.

  "Eaudreuil!" Jack shouted, searching for the Val’anna amid the chaos.

  "We’ll find him!" Cassy assured Jack. “But only to get you out of here.”

  "But..."

  "But what? What do you want to do? Fight your way through hundreds of Raashani? You are the flaming Heir of House Bra‘Adan, not some dog soldier! Let your Amarians do this wet work. You're too valuable to lose in a melee over flaming Kiathan!"

  "Jack," Cassaban insisted, his voice rising in desperation. "If you want to go after Kiathan, fine! But do it right! Gather up some troops, a flaming lot of them, and..."

  "Cassy's right," Malik Gamrin agreed, hurrying to join the pair. The three Galekindar moved quickly to bar the general of the Raashan Razorbacks.

  "It's okay. Let him through," Jack said, laying a hand on the nearest.

  "Cassy's right," the stocky general said again, forcing his way past the Amarians. "Kiathan's gone already. The Raashani are no longer trying to attack, they are fighting a blocking action. Look."

  Jack turned to the battle taking place on the Haelfest field. Bodies littered the arena, both Kiathan's men and several Amarians. The Raashani troops had fallen back to the northern entrance of the stadium and were holding it against the Galekindar. In the close confines of the tunnel, even a few well-trained swordsmen could hold off a superior force. The general's astute analysis and Borg's argument finally cut through Jack's urge to charge into the fray and find the traitor duke.

  "Okay," he growled. "Cassy, find Theros and Cilidon. Tell them to meet me outside the southern tunnel with the Dragon Guard and Cilidon's Rangers as quickly as possible. You. What's your name?" he asked the nearest Amarian.

  "I am Erik, m'Lord!" the Galekindar saluted.

  "Erik, go find Tarsus in that mess and tell him to break off the attack. When the Raashani turn and run, send a dozen or so riders to follow and mark their retreat. The rest are to find me outside the stadium."

  The Amarian leapt on his horse and galloped off towards the fight.

  "My lads will be ready to ride in fifteen minutes," General Gamrin promised. "Meet you outside! Raashan Razorbacks!" he shouted, turning to make his way back to the grandstand. "There's sword work needs doing!"

  "Well go on," Jack commanded Borg, who was still standing at his side. "For the love of Yh, move! Before Kiathan is out of the city!"

  "Now you're acting like a flaming king," Cassy nodded. "Don't dare think of leaving without me."

  “Eaudreuil! Where are you?” Braedan demanded, calling out to the stallion. But he could detect no trace of the Val’anna in the swirling mass of thoughts filling the close confines of the coliseum. As Cassaban headed off, Jack finally saw some of his Golden Lions hurrying to protect him; Kirk, along with Erlwin and Brian.

  "I sent Anghol, Michael and Falan back to the guild hall to get supplies," Kirk informed. "Cyran is fetching Eaudreuil. We're going after Kiathan, right?"

  "We are," Jack nodded. If there was even the slightest shred of doubt remaining he'd elevated the young soldier to captain before he was ready, it vanished immediately. Grimrorr in hand, Braedan headed toward the southern entrance of the coliseum with a determined stride, his Lions and several Galekindar following in his wake.

  Outside the arena, confused and panicked citizens of Whesguard filled the streets. Many wept openly at the chaos which had descended upon the Haelfest, while others wandered about aimlessly, apparently overcome with shock. Braedan could not help but think this was only the beginning of their horror if they did not soon have Yhswyndyr to protect them.

  Emerging out of this confusion, Jack spotted Cyran riding toward him, Eaudreuil trotting alongside. Behind them rode two dozen Raashan Razorbacks with Captain Maadim Khalmiya at their head.

  "We could not hold back the Raashani," the Kadinar mercenary apologized as he dismounted. He was blood splattered and sported at least two visible wounds attesting to the Razorback’s valiant attempt to keep the duke’s forces from the colusiem. "Word is spreading, Great Prince. I have sent a squad back to gather supplies and more to ask for volunteers. In half an hour, you'll have a two hundred men at your back. With a bit of luck, we can catch the Dog of the Raashan before he escapes the city."

  "Thank you captain," Jack nodded. "Malik, can you have the Razorbacks begin clearing this street? It's going to get crowded here pretty quick..." At least he hoped it would... "I don't want anyone getting trampled in the press."

  "Maadim?" the general said.

  "I will see it done, general," the Kadinar saluted. "Great Prince," he bowed to Jack. "Razorbacks! Clear the street!"

  As the mercenaries began gently, but firmly hustling dazed citizens out of the area, other riders began to appear, drawn perhaps by the one apparent place of order amid all the swirling chaos Immer had become. The first two to dismount and approach Braedan and his circle of bodyguards was the Lancemaster Julian Brin and the young Doridanian he had defeated, Arrgenn Dunnahel.

  "We're going with you after Kiathan," Dunnahel announced without preamble.

  "What this whelp meant to say...my Lord," the Lancemaster corrected, giving Dunnahel a frustrated glare, "is we have heard you are gathering men to go after the Duke of Raashan. If it be true, we humbly request to accompany you. That he has chosen to so...dishonor the tradition of the Haelfest is unforgivable."

  "I'm not going just going after him, Julian," Jack informed him. "Kiathan Ellgaer is an agent of Gorthiel. I'm going to hunt him down and kill him."

  "I thought the narcissistic bastard was just a sore loser," Julian Brin said calmly. Nothing, it seemed, rattled the Lancemaster. "Well now, that changes matters entirely."

  "But..." Dunnahel began.

  "Because now..." Brin said, interrupting the young Dunnahel, "I must insist we accompany you."

  "The Heir accepts your offer," Malik Gamrin nodded. "We'll take every sword and lance willing to ride with us."

  "Malik," Jack said, "you just volunteered to organize this posse."

  "As long as it's clear to everyone I get the Dog of Raashan’s head," the stocky mercenary grinned. "Brin, do you feel up to leading the heavy horse for this little outing?"

  "It would be an honor, General Gamrin," Julian nodded. "My Lord," he bowed to Jack.

  "Kirk, I need you to..."

  “What you need to do,” the Lion’s captain interrupted, “is let us handle this. If Kiathan makes it out of the city, this will likely to turn into a long, hard chase. You've had little rest and a...well, a full schedule the last few days. Go over there, have a sit down and I’ll find someone to look to after your wounds before you go charging off to battle."

  How long had it been since his fight with Kiathan ended? Fifteen minutes? Twenty at the most? He was cruising on adrenalin r
ight now, but it wouldn't last forever. Even just a few minutes to calm down and clear his head would be beneficial. "Okay Kirk," Jack sighed. "You'll come get me..."

  "If you are needed," Kirk nodded. "I promise."

  "I'll be right over there," Jack said, pointing towards southern wall of the coliseum. Two Amarian shadowed him as he walked away, Eaudreuil joining them.

  Jack sat down against the stone wall and lay Grimrorr across his knees as the two Galekindar took up positions on either side of Eaudreuil, then turned to face the street. A Galekindar medic soon arrived to look after his wounds, which were minor, and gave him a drink from a canteen. Jack drank greedily as the medic dabbed some salve on his cuts. Jack closed his eyes and began to take deep, measured breaths. Slowly, the sounds of the city started to fade until they were just a faint buzz on the edge of his consciousness. Braedan struggled to open his eyes and focus on the medic.

  “What…what the hell did you give me?” he tried to snarl, his tongue thick and heavy.

  “Just a pinch of Night blossom, my Lord,” the Amarian smiled. “It will help you….”

  Jack was already out.

  Sometime later, Jack became dimly became aware of his surroundings once more; the sounds of soldiers barking orders, the restless stamping of iron shod hooves on the cobblestone street, the rattle of armor and steel preparing for battle. The faint smell of smoke, of burning, hung in the air. Braedan slowly opened his eyes. Surrounding him, keeping him undisturbed while he had been resting, was a protective ring of Galekindar. Swords drawn, facing out toward the street, the Amarian's held back a quickly growing throng of soldiers and horsemen.

  Struggle to his feet, Jack could see the silver and black of the Dragon Guard; Ailfar Rangers dressed in their brown and green, Galekindar, Razorbacks, and an eclectic mix of warriors from all over the Whesguard. Spotting a familiar face, Jack sheathed Grimrorr and pushed his way through the protective ring of Amarian's.

  "Have a good nap, my Lord?" Captain Vanar asked.

  “Dammit!” Jack yawned then spat. “How long have I been out?”

  “Not long,” Vanar replied. “How do you feel?”