Oathbreaker - Chapter 13
Stones crunched as the Ice Queen ground its way up the beach, the wooden boards quivering beneath Quinn’s feet before coming to a halt...
Legend of the Gods is an original fantasy novel, packed with gods, dragons and magic. In the Three Nations, magic is outlawed, with severe punishment for those who disobey. When her brother’s magic emerges, Alana will do anything to protect him from the Stalkers that hunt them. Meanwhile, disgraced warrior Devon must choose between loyalty to the empire and his desire to protect the innocent. You can find my other books on my website.
A century since the departure of the Gods, the Three Nations are now united beneath the Tsar. Magic has been outlawed, its power too dangerous to remain unchecked. All Magickers must surrender themselves to the crown, or face imprisonment and death.
Alana's mundane life has just been torn apart by the emergence of her brother's magic. Now they must leave behind everything they’ve ever known and flee – before the Tsar’s Stalkers pick up their trail. Tasked with hunting down renegade Magickers, the merciless hunters will stop at nothing to bring them before the Tsar’s judgement.
As the noose closes around Alana and her brother, disgraced hero Devon finds himself at odds with the law when he picks a fight with the wrong man. The former warrior has set aside his weapons, but now, caught between the renegades and the Stalkers, he is forced to pick a side – the empire, or the innocent.
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Stones crunched as the Ice Queen ground its way up the beach, the wooden boards quivering beneath Quinn’s feet before coming to a halt. Without waiting for a gangplank to be lowered, Quinn moved to the bow and leapt down onto the gravel shore. The loose stones slid beneath his feet as he landed, but he quickly straightened and looked around.
The burnt and blackened remains of the Songbird lay scattered along the beach, interspersed here and there by silent corpses. He walked away from the Ice Queen while his men disembarked, his eyes scanning the wreckage for signs of life. Here and there he found injured sailors, their chests still rising with the breath of life. Those who were unconscious, he killed quickly. Those who were awake he questioned, but none had seen what had become of the Stalker’s prey, and they soon followed their comrades. Beyond the wreckage, three red specks circled on the horizon.
The sun rose higher in the sky as he continued along the coast. His heart sank as the amount of debris from the sunken ship grew thinner. He could hear the crunch of his Stalker’s footsteps as they spread out behind him, but he ignored them. His movements became more frantic as the wreckage finally came to an end, and he looked out over empty gravel.
“Where are they?” he muttered into the wind.
Unable to turn back emptyhanded, Quinn marched on, his hopes fading with each footstep. In the distance, the red specks grew larger as the dragons approached. His stomach coiled into knots at the sight, and he picked up his pace, desperate for some sign, some hint Devon and his party had survived.
His eyes scanning the coastal cliffs, Quinn almost tripped over an indentation in the gravel shore. Stumbling, he cursed and righted himself. He was about to press on when he noticed the slight depressions of footsteps leading away from him. Looking down, he saw now the hollow beneath his feet matched the shape of a large man.
Devon.
A smile tugged at his cheeks as his eyes followed the footsteps to where they led up a break in the cliffs. So the big warrior had survived. If that was true, there was hope that Alana and her brother might also live. Glancing back, he found the eyes of his men watching him.
“They’re alive,” he said softly.
Before he could continue, a sharp crack came from above them, and a shadow fell across their company. Quinn caught a flash of red scales and the stench of rotting meat, before the dragon crashed down. The force of its impact sent gravel flying, and he quickly turned away as the hard stones pelted him.
The humans live?
Quinn shuddered as the dragon’s words reverberated through his mind. There was a madness to its voice, a terrible hate for the creatures standing before it. For centuries the Red Dragons had loathed mankind, slaughtering any who ventured into their territory. Only the Tsar’s power kept the creatures in check.
Swallowing, Quinn looked up into the beast’s golden eyes. The scarlet scales shone in the morning sun, the muscles beneath rippling with pent up power.
“It seems that way,” he said, struggling to keep fear from his voice.
Where? The dragon growled, its great talons tearing up the gravel in emphasis of its question.
“We will find them,” Quinn replied quickly. “You and your…offspring, should remain here.”
No. The great head leaned closer, its breath like the bellows of a furnace. We shall follow you, Stalker.
Suppressing his anger, Quinn blew out his cheeks and nodded. “At a distance,” he countered. “So you do not give away our position.”
The golden eyes stared down at him for a long moment, as though appraising him. The slits of the beast’s nostrils widened as it sucked in a breath.
Your magic is diminished, Stalker, the dragon replied finally. Turning, it moved away along the beach. Call us when you fail.
Quinn gritted his teeth as the beast spread its wings and leapt into the air. Dust swirled across the stones as the great wings beat down, hurling it into the sky. Fists clenched, he turned back to his men and saw the disdain in their eyes. Cursing inwardly, he straightened.
“What are you standing there for?” he snapped. “Get moving! Devon cannot be allowed to reach Fort Fall!”
Alana woke to the crackling of fire and the acrid smell of smoke. Wrinkling her nose, she lay still, eyes closed and mind racing as she tried to recall how she’d come to be there. The memories returned slowly, images swimming past her eyes before receding back into the fog of her past. She saw a garden, its leaves and flowers strangely aglow, the colours over-bright, then a ship at sea, its sails full and oars pounding the smooth waters. Drawing closer to the ship, Alana saw herself with Devon on the bow. Darkness fell, and her eyes slid closed, fading into sleep.
The image drifted away, then snapped back into sharp focus—only now the ship was ablaze, the mast burning, the flames creeping closer. And overhead…
With a scream, Alana jerked upright, her arms thrashing to escape the flames. Her eyes shot open, taking in the fire dancing in the darkness. She scrambled backwards, her hands digging like claws into the soft earth.
“Alana, stop!” Devon’s voice called through the black.
Her eyes swept up and found the hammerman standing nearby, his brow furrowed with concern. She shuddered, her heart still pounding. Slowly, she looked around, taking in the small blaze of the campfire and the stars overhead. A few yards away she saw the glint of water in the firelight.
“Devon?” she gasped, her throat feeling like she’d swallowed sand. “Where are we?”
Devon moved across to where she lay and lowered himself down onto a log beside the fire. “A day’s walk from Northland.”
Alana nodded. Placing a hand on her chest, she willed her heart to slow. A few more breaths and she finally started to calm. She fixed her eyes on Devon.
“Where’s my brother?”
“I don’t know,” Devon replied, looking away. “The others…I’m not sure if they made it off the ship.”
A lump lodged in Alana’s throat, robbing her of words. She swallowed. “No,” she croaked.
Something about his words seemed wrong. Sitting up on her knees, she closed her eyes and saw the dragon again, its scarlet scales flashing in the night sky.
A dragon!
The memory sent a shiver through her soul. Only the Tsar himself could have sent such a creature. Why was the man so determined to stop them from escaping? Her stomach chilled at the thought of what he would send against them next.
Gritting her teeth, she forced her fear aside and concentrated on the memory. She saw again the dragon flashing from the sky, felt the impact as Devon tackled her from the path of its flames. She was about to speak, to thank him for saving her, when the sight of Kellian, Tillie, and Braidon diving over the railing emerged from the fog.
“They made it off the ship,” she said as relief flooded her.
“You’re sure? All I can remember when I think back is the dragon,” Devon replied. He lifted a hand to his forehead. “Do you know how I struck my head?”
“Nope,” Alana replied straight-faced, deciding the hammerman didn’t need anything else on her. “Probably something fell from the rigging. I had to drag you off the ship and halfway to shore.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he murmured.
Alana laughed. “Anytime, big man,” she shot back, then added, “Well, maybe lose some weight first.”
Devon snorted. Unstrapping kanker from his shoulders, he placed the hammer beside him and stretched his legs out towards the fire. His amber eyes did not look at her, but she could see his hands were trembling.
“What do we do now?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Now?” he sighed. “Now we cross into Northland. We’ll be safer there. If the others survived, they’ll be heading in the same direction.”
Gathering herself, Alana started to rise. Her legs ached as though she’d been running all day, but she managed to stumble to her feet. Devon stared up at her, open astonishment on his face, and then he started to laugh.
“Princess, I’ve been carrying you all day. I’m not going anywhere tonight unless you’re returning the favour!”
Alana stood looking down at him, as though considering the idea. In truth, she was shocked at the pain radiating through her body, and, despite her need to find her brother, she knew she wouldn’t make it far either. At least not without risk. After a moment, she sighed and sat back down.
“Alright, big man,” she said with a grin. “You’d better be able to keep up tomorrow, though.”
Amusement danced in Devon’s amber eyes. “Without your dead weight, princess, I could walk all day!”
Laughter bubbled up from Alana’s chest, joined a moment later by Devon’s. The sound whispered out into the darkness, light and filled with an unknown joy. When it finally died away, they sat in a companionable silence for a while.
“I’m glad I met you, you know,” Devon said after a while, his eyes on the flames.
Alana smiled. “Me, too.”
She lay back, staring up at the stars glistening in the night sky. They weren’t half as bright in Ardath, where the lanterns dimmed your vision and masked the night’s beauty. Here, though, their number seemed infinite, a million, million tiny pinpricks of light. Her eyes slowly drifted closed, her mind strangely at ease despite her brother’s absence. With Devon at her side, she felt safe, as though no harm could come to her and no task was too great.
Tomorrow they would enter Northland and find her brother. Tonight, she could rest.
A soft curse from nearby pulled Alana back from the brink of sleep. Sitting up, she found Devon standing, pulling off his jerkin. His amber eyes saw her looking and she could have sworn his face reddened in the darkness.
“Sorry,” he murmured, “it’s the salt, itches like the devil. I’m going for a swim.”
Alana raised an eyebrow as he stripped down to his undergarments. “You’re going to freeze!” Beyond the heat of the fire, a frost was beginning to gather on the grass.
“Probably!” Devon muttered.
He moved towards the glimmering pool, muscles rippling along his shoulders and arms. The fire lit his skin, showing long white scars where swords and axes had cut him. She shivered, remembering the man he had once been, the tales told about his bloody conquest over the Trolans. The way the bards put it, Devon had won most of his battles single-handedly.
The splash of his body hitting the water sent waves sliding out across the icy pool. Alana shook her head as he surfaced and began to curse. Laughing softly to herself, she lay back down and closed her eyes.
But as she lay there, she now felt the itching Devon had described, the dry rubbing of her clothes against her skin, an irritation on her scalp. She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore it but knowing it was useless. Now he had pointed it out, the sensation had become unbearable. Swearing, she sat up and began to strip down.
“Don’t look!” she shouted as she made her way to the pool in nothing but her underclothes.
“What sort of gentleman would I be if I looked?” Devon laughed, his eyes glittering as he watched her approach.
Alana snorted. “Rogue!” Gathering herself, she leapt out over his head.
Arms raised, she slid into the water like a knife through butter. The cold engulfed her, but after the heat by the fire, it was a refreshing change. Surfacing, she swam across the pool with smooth strokes of her arms. Growing up in the lake city of Ardath, she had always loved to swim. The pool was not wide, and it wasn’t long before her hand struck the stone edge on the other side. She turned and swam back to where Devon waited.
“You swim well,” he murmured.
Smiling, she flicked back her head, her long hair sending water spraying across the pool. “The best,” she agreed with a grin.
Now they were away from the fire, Alana’s eyes were adjusting to the moonlight. She saw the pool in which they floated was one of several. Their shining waters were clustered closely together, separated by thin lips of rock. The ground lifted gradually away from them, the pools forming a staircase in the rocks that lead up towards a distant line of trees.
“What is this place?” she whispered.
“An old iron sand mine,” Devon replied. He moved alongside her, sending water rippling outwards. “The pools formed around where they dug the sand down to the bedrock.”
She nodded, turning her eyes on him. “How did you know it was here?”
Devon smiled. “I know many things, princess.” He floated closer to her. “I have travelled much of the Three Nations in my twenty-three years.”
Inexplicably, Alana’s heart beat faster as he neared. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her hands moved by memory, keeping her afloat, but as they swept out once more, they bumped into Devon’s chest. Before they could move away, his hands caught hers by the wrist. He lifted her, and she realised he was tall enough to stand above the water.
A shudder swept through Alana as she looked into his amber eyes. They stared back at her with a burning intensity. Her lips parted, and she found herself leaning towards him, her own eyes fluttering closed.
Alana jumped as something small and sharp struck her foot. In the same instant, Devon cursed, jerking away from her. The movement sent water splashing across the pool and crashing over the rocky lip. They glanced at each other, and then down at their feet. In the feeble light of the moon, Alana could just make out the fish circling her legs.
She yelped again as one darted in and bit her heel. Her flesh crawled and, suppressing a scream, she struck out for the edge of the pool. In her mind she pictured the fish following her, their tiny mouths poised to strike, ready to strip the flesh from her bones, to tear her to pieces.
Reaching the end of the pool, Alana threw out an arm and grabbed at the rocky lip. As she hauled herself up, she twisted, looking around for Devon, terrified the fish had already taken him…
And found him still standing in the middle of the pool, a broad grin on his bearded face. His laughter boomed out through the night.
Alana stared at him a moment, mouth agape. Before she could question him, she felt another sharp twinge in her leg, and she scrambled quickly out of the water. Sitting on the stone lip, she glared across at Devon.
“What the hell?” she shrieked.
Devon’s laughter trailed away as he shook his head. “They’re called Doctor Fish,” he called across to her. “They’re harmless.”
“They don’t feel harmless!”
He chuckled again. “They’re just eating the dead skin, princess. Don’t be such a coward!”
Alana gritted her teeth and glared at the big man. “I am not a coward.”
“Then come back in,” he replied with a grin. “The water’s warmer than out there!”
At his words, a cold wind swept across the pool, raising goosebumps on Alana’s flesh. She shivered, eyeing the eerie waters, and then slowly lowered herself back in. The water was still cold, but she would brave the fish for a few minutes more, if only to prove Devon wrong.
He swam across to her, but her glare kept him at bay. She floated there a while, her breath ragged, her body tensed with expectation.
Her sudden movements had spooked the fish, and they took a while to return. When they did, Alana almost leapt straight back out of the pool at the first creature’s bite. But Devon was watching her, and she was determined not to show her fear. Teeth clenched, she scowled at him, seeing the laughter in his eyes. She did not so much as flinch as the next fish struck.
Bit by bit, the fish grew bolder, until she had several of the tiny creatures nibbling at the soft flesh of her feet. The creatures continued up her legs, some biting hard and fast, others almost gently as they set about their meal.
Biting her lip, Alana fought to keep from crying out. Several of the fish had found the sensitive flesh on the bottoms of her feet. She felt laughter bubbling up from her chest as the sensation began to tickle. Eyes watering, she looked at Devon.
“This is weird,” she gasped.
He nodded, face twitching, and she realised he was struggling to hold back his laughter. Snorting, Alana splashed a wave of water into his face. The suddenness of her attack sent him stumbling back. The slick rocks slipped under his feet and he vanished beneath the surface, reappearing an instant later, coughing and spluttering.
“Idiot,” Alana said, grinning. The fish had scattered at her movement, and, swimming back to the edge, she hauled herself out. Quickly she used her clothes to towel herself down and then slipped back into them. She glanced back as Devon swam up. “You’ll pay for that, you know.”
Devon’s eyes danced. “I look forward to it.”
Straightening, Alana’s stomach rumbled and her eyes turned to the distant trees. A smile crossed her face.
“Wait here,” she said. She wandered away before he had a chance to respond.
The fire was burning low by the time Alana returned. Devon threw off the dregs of sleep and sat up. Picking up a stick, he quickly stirred the flames back to life. Adding wood, he surreptitiously studied Alana as she wandered up to the camp. Back in the pool, for half a moment it had seemed there was something between them. He recalled the thumping of blood in his ears as they drifted together, eyes locked, her skin beneath his fingers.
Alana wore the same smile she’d left with, only now she carried the carcass of a hare in one hand. Devon raised an eyebrow in question as she tossed it down in front of him.
“I caught it, so you get to cook,” she said with a grin.
Unable to keep the admiration from his face, Devon wordlessly picked up the pitiful creature. Away in the darkness, crickets chirped as Alana took a seat nearby. Taking a hunting knife from his belt, he set about skinning it.
“How did you manage to kill it?” he asked as he worked.
“We used to hunt them in the fields around the lake when I was younger,” she said by way of an answer. When Devon only shook his head, she added. “I hit it with a stone.”
“Impressive,” he murmured. His stomach rumbled and Alana laughed. “I never was much of a woodsman,” Devon admitted.
“Really?” Her grey eyes studied him closely. “You always seem so…capable.”
Devon smiled despite himself. “I’m capable in one thing only, Alana,” he murmured, touching the haft of kanker.
The conversation trailed off, and Devon busied himself with his task. The skin removed, he gutted the little hare, then quickly set up a spit from a few thicker pieces of wood. Placing the spit with carcass attached over the fire, he stoked the flames.
“Will it take long?” Alana asked, her eyes aglow with hunger.
“Long enough,” Devon said, sitting back. He looked across at her, recalling her lithe frame as she dove over him into the pool. “Alana,” he said suddenly, “what will you do if Braidon has been taken?”
She sat in silence for a long while, staring into the flames. When she finally answered, her voice was soft, distant. “I’ll go back and find him.”
“They’ll kill you.” Devon said the words without judgement.
Alana nodded. “Probably.”
Devon shivered as he watched her. His earlier thoughts had been right; there was no give in the young woman sitting before him.
To his surprise, he found himself speaking. “You wouldn’t be alone.” She looked up at that, her grey eyes wide, and he went on. “I’ll walk beside you.”
Alana stared across at him, and for a second Devon thought he glimpsed tears in her eyes. She quickly looked away. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” Devon chuckled, thinking back to the fiery woman he’d met on the streets of Ardath. “Truth is, my life before was empty. I had nothing to live for, no purpose. I lost myself back in the war, and I’ve been trying to find my way ever since.”
“And my destroying your life changed that?”
Devon grinned. “In a way,” he replied. “Maybe it was Kellian’s words, or that woman Tillie’s, or maybe just being around you and your brother, but I feel like my old self again. Thank you for that.”
“You’re a strange man, Devon,” Alana said. “You thank me for destroying your life, but not for saving it!”
Laughter roared up from Devon’s chest. “Ha! I figured you owed me that one!”
“I see!” A smile danced on Alana’s face. She edged closer, her eyes on the rabbit. Devon quickly reached out and turned it before it could burn. “How much longer, you think?” she asked.
“Hungry critter, aren’t you?” Devon took up his dagger and sliced a cut down the rabbit. The meat beneath was beginning to darken. “Soon, princess,” he teased.
She punched him in the arm. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
Devon sat back and looked at her. “I have trouble remembering people’s names sometimes,” he admitted.
“So you gave me the nickname princess?” she asked. “Do you think I’m too weak to look after myself?”
Laughing, Devon shook his head. “The opposite,” he replied. “You’re the fiercest woman I’ve ever met.”
“So why?”
Devon grinned. “Because of the fire in your eyes when I say it.”
She hit him again, but this time Devon reached out and caught her by the wrist before she could retreat. Their eyes met, and she did not pull away. He leaned towards her, his heart pounding in his ears.
“It’s burning!” Alana said suddenly, jumping up and snatching the hare from the flames.
Cursing inwardly, Devon helped her set it down. Fat bubbled from the roasting meat, and in a few places the flesh had blackened.
“You aren’t much of a cook, either, you know?” Alana said, her eyes dancing.
Devon muttered something choice under his breath. Ignoring her, he took up his knife and went to work on the hare. It was difficult with the meat still scorching hot, but from the look in Alana’s eyes, she wasn’t going to wait until it cooled.
Silently he cut a slice of meat and offered it to Alana on the blade. She raised an eyebrow, and he grinned at her.
“Ladies first,” Devon said.
Alana’s lips twitched as she took the morsel from his knife. “Such a gentleman,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the chunk of hot meat.
A dribble of juice ran down her chin as she chewed, and Devon chuckled. “I take it back,” he said. “Kellian is more of a lady than you!”
“No one’s perfect.” Alana winked, still chewing on her mouthful.
A comfortable silence fell across the campfire as they ate. Cutting a slice for himself, Devon sat back, savouring the rich flavour of the fresh meat. It could have used a bit of seasoning, but Kellian was the innkeeper and cook. They’d be lucky if Devon managed not to poison them with the skinny hare.
“Why did you leave the army?” Alana asked into the silence.
Devon froze mid-bite. He swallowed slowly and turned to look at her, finding her grey eyes on his hammer. He glanced down at kanker, its steel head glistening in the firelight. His thoughts drifted, returning to the dark days in Trola. He shuddered.
“I didn’t like what I’d become,” he murmured.
“A soldier?”
“A killer,” he replied, a shadow passing across his soul. Reaching down, he hefted kanker. “A murderer. An ender of life.”
“You fought to protect us from the Trolan invaders,” Alana replied, though when he looked at her he could see the doubt in her eyes.
“That’s how it began,” Devon murmured, his mind distant, his thoughts on a place far away, a past long ago. “Not how it ended.”
“You mean the conquest?” she pressed.
Devon’s fist tightened around kanker. “It was no conquest. It was a slaughter.”
Alana fell silent, her eyes on the fire. “It ended the war.”
“It did,” Devon replied. “Because there was no one left to threaten the Tsar.”
“Or our people,” Alana added.
Silence fell again, but Devon knew it was not an end to Alana’s questions. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for it to come, for the question to be asked.
“Why did you give up your hammer?” Alana whispered. “You had the Tsar’s favour, the love of the people. You could have been rich.”
Devon sucked in a breath, gathering his courage. Only Kellian knew the truth, knew of things he’d done when the bloodlust was on him. “Because I liked it,” he whispered. He saw her eyes come up, the question on her lips, and continued before she could speak. “Because I enjoyed it. I lived for the thrill of battle, for the destruction and the slaughter, for the sight of life fading from an enemy’s eyes.”
“You have the warrior’s spirit—” Alana began, but he cut her off.
“I killed all who came before me. Men, yes. Women, too. Old men and boys barely out of childhood. It didn’t matter who they were, only that they stood in my way.” He paused. “I killed a child once. He ran at me with a spear, and I didn’t even think.” Reaching down, he lifted kanker and held it up before the firelight. “My ancestors wielded this hammer to defend the innocent, to protect the Three Nations from darkness. Now it’s stained by my evil. If my ancestors could see me now, they would spit at my feet.”
Devon drew in a great, shuddering breath, and let the hammer fall. It struck the ground with a thud. Silence fell, strained and awful, but he kept his eyes fixed to the ground, terrified to look up and see the judgement on Alana’s face. But as time stretched out, he knew he could hide from his past no longer. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to look at her.
She stared back, lips parted, her grey eyes sad. For a moment it seemed she would speak, then her mouth closed again, her jaw tightening. She bit her lip and looked away.
Shame swelled in Devon’s chest as he returned his gaze to the fire. He wanted to defend himself, to explain how it had been, how when the bloodlust took him he had no control. But the words would not come. In his heart, he knew what he’d done could never be forgiven. Never mind that he’d been following orders, that the Tsar had commanded all who stood against them be swept away.
Darkness descended on the campsite as the fire burned down. Devon’s stomach was warm now, filled with the meal of half-burnt hare, but his spirit was low. Across from him, Alana sat staring off into the distance, refusing to meet his gaze.
Silently, Devon settled himself down on the ground. His body was exhausted, refreshed by the swim, but aching from the long day’s march. He needed to sleep, but even as he closed his eyes, he knew it would not come. Letting out a sigh, he settled in for a long, cold night.
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