Oathbreaker - Chapter 4
Alana’s heart sank as she threaded her way through the last of the market stalls and found a line of wagons stretching away from the gates...
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.
Become a paid subscriber to access this entire series from the start, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you.
Alana’s heart sank as she threaded her way through the last of the market stalls and found a line of wagons stretching away from the gates. Sunlight glittered from the golden spire that towered above them, but below they remained in the shadow of the wall. The cold of night still hung in the air, and Alana shivered as she glanced back at her brother. Dust billowed as people and wagons rumbled past on their way to and from the market.
“You have your knife to hand?” Alana asked, leaning in close.
Braidon nodded and patted his waist where a slight bulge beneath his coat was all she could see of his dagger. Alana squeezed his shoulder, offering her reassurance, and then turned and led him to the back of the queue to leave the city. As they walked up, her boot caught a loose brick on the cobbled street, and she stumbled forward into the back of the last man in the line.
“Oi, watch where you’re walking, runt,” the man snapped as Alana recovered her balance.
Shaking herself, Alana looked up into the man’s dark eyes. “Sorry, sir,” she said quickly.
He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but his brow deepened at her words. The muscles of his jaw clenched as he advanced. One meaty finger jabbed at her chest. “You better watch yourself, girl.”
Alana stood her ground. Pushing back her cloak, she rested her hand on the hilt of her sabre. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice hard now. Narrowing her eyes, she stepped closer to the man. “Want to try me?”
She watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob up and down and grinned. He shook his head and looked away, edging forward to catch up with the rest of the line. Glancing at her brother, Alana winked.
“Never let them push you around,” she whispered.
Her brother laughed, and some of the tension left him. Alana wished the same could be said for her. Her eyes travelled down the queue, taking in the silk merchants and spice traders, the bulky woodsmen heading east into the forests, the hunters with their huge bows and fishermen heading down to the lake to begin the day’s work. There were almost fifty in all, and while the sun was still low in the sky, at the pace the guards were letting people through it might take them all morning to get away. Shaking her head, Alana closed her eyes and tried to still her racing heart.
“Just the two of ya travelling?” Alana’s eyes flew open as a voice spoke from behind them.
Glancing around, she realised a sailor had joined the line behind them. He wore an easy smile on his face, but she swallowed hard, her mind racing. The man had obviously already seen their rucksacks. He knew they were leaving town. Two young travellers alone on the road would be easy prey—if not for him, for someone he might inform.
“We’re meeting our uncle on the docks,” her brother answered before Alana could think of a response. “He went ahead to make sure everything was ready.”
The easy smile didn’t change, but Alana thought she caught a flicker of suspicion in the man’s eyes. She glanced at his belt, but he seemed to be unarmed. Relaxing a little, she fixed a smile to her face. “We didn’t expect the line. Hope he waits for us!”
The man laughed. “It’ll move faster once old Bodric finishes his shift. Don’t know why they keep ’im on the gates. Man must be blessed by a spell or something.”
Alana snorted. “More likely he comes from the right family.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” The sailor scratched at his beard, his eyes looking out over the crowd. “There goes the old fart now. His replacement is usually faster. Shouldn’t take too much longer.”
His words were quickly proven true as the queue started to move. Alana sneezed as dust kicked up around them. The echo of hooves on stone grew louder as they approached the gate tunnel. Ahead of them, the man Alana had bumped into kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, but she could sense his antagonism. Ever since the attack in the stepwell, the people of Ardath had seemed on edge. Alana would be glad to see the back of the city.
Finally, the man moved forward to the table set up in front of the gates. There a man sat with a great binder of paper, a feather quill gripped in one meaty hand. Two guards in chainmail vests and scarlet cloaks stood behind him, spears at their sides and swords strapped to their waists.
Usually the city guards stood at ease, but today the men at the gate were jumpy, their eyes alert and weapons gripped tightly. Alana swallowed, lowering her eyes so they wouldn’t see her staring. Silently, she sent a prayer to the Goddess to see them safely from the city.
“Name?” Alana was only half listening as the guard at the table took down the traveller’s details. Her mind was busy elsewhere, taking in the dark shadows of the gate tunnel, unguarded but for the men around the table. If they moved quickly, she and her brother could be through the gates and out the other side before the guards could react.
Only she couldn’t see what waited beyond the tunnel. If the watch had more guards stationed there, they would be caught before they even reached the steps down to the docks. And then there was the matter of securing passage across the lake…
“Next!” Alana blinked and looked up. The man sitting behind the table was staring at her, his eyebrows knitted together in a scowl. “Next!” he said again.
Beyond him, the man ahead of them was already disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel, but as she watched him, he flashed a glance back at them. For a second, a grin split his unshaven chin. Then he was gone.
Shaking her head, Alana forced the man from her mind and approached the table. The guard glared up at her, eyes hard. “Name?” he asked in a cold voice.
Alana swallowed. “Margaret and Jon,” she lied.
“Where are you heading?”
“Onslow,” she lied again. Onslow was halfway to Trola—west through the mountains rather than north along the Gods road. “There’s meant to be a ship leaving shortly.”
“Always a ship leaving shortly,” the guard grunted. He looked in the direction of the gate tunnel, then back at them. His eyes narrowed. “Travelling alone, Margaret and Jon?”
“Our uncle’s waiting on the ship,” Alana replied quickly.
The guard nodded as he scratched notes in his binder. “What’s the name of this ship?” he asked finally.
Alana stood gaping down at the man. His beady eyes were watching her closely. She could see the suspicion on his face. He was asking too many questions, and she wondered suddenly what the man before them had told him. Opening her mouth, she was about to blurt out the first ship name that came to mind when a shout carried across the marketplace.
“Devon, you bastard, you’re mine now!”
Alana spun on the spot and stared as the giant from the night before came muscling his way through the crowd. He was armoured now, the steel links of his chainmail glinting as the first rays of sun broke over the top of the wall. Bloodshot eyes glinted from beneath an iron half-helm, and the haft of a warhammer stretched up over his right shoulder.
A second man moved alongside Devon. He stood almost a foot shorter than the giant and was less heavily muscled. Though he wore no sword, he moved with the balanced steps of a fighter. He was older than Devon, the flesh around his eyes crinkled with wisdom. As another shout carried across the marketplace, he skipped quickly around the queue for the gate and headed for the guard sitting at the table.
“Oi, you two, back of the line!” Alana glanced back as the man behind the table stood and pointed at Devon and his friend.
Alana grabbed her brother by the shoulder and stepped aside, moving slowly towards the gate. She watched as Devon’s friend walked up to the table. He was puffing hard, his chest heaving with each intake of breath. Behind the table, the guards bristled. Stepping out into the street, they levelled their spears at the newcomers.
Standing behind the distracted guards, Alana and Braidon continued to edge towards the darkness of the gate tunnel. She watched as Devon moved up beside his friend. The hard amber eyes looked down at the guards with scorn. “Get out of our way.”
Steel rattled as the guards hefted their spears.
“Friends, one moment!” Beside Devon, the smaller man finally found his breath. Lifting his arms, he showed his empty hands. “Excuse my friend his rudeness. We only wish to pass through the gates.”
“You and your friend aren’t going anywhere without waiting in line, Kellian,” the guard behind the table growled, eyes flashing with anger. “Now if you’ll excuse—”
“I’m afraid we really do need to be going,” Kellian interrupted. Another shout came from somewhere in the crowded marketplace. He cast a nervous glance back before continuing, “but I’m sure we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”
Before the guard could reply, Kellian’s hand disappeared into his tunic and reappeared with a gold libra. “One apiece would seem fair, don’t you think?” he asked, his eyes flickering to the two spearmen.
In the road, the spearmen wavered, their weapons dropping half an inch. Alana and her brother picked up the pace. The tunnel was just a few steps away now, but she didn’t dare make a run for it. The guards were bound to notice any sudden movement. But if Devon and his friend finished their business before they made it into the tunnel…
“One each?” The guard at the table was eyeing the coin greedily.
Still moving backwards, Alana shivered as the air turned cold. She staggered slightly, but glancing around, she breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it into the tunnel. Grabbing her brother by the arm, she turned and pulled him deeper into the darkness. The weight of the wall pressed in around them, the massive blocks of granite hovering overhead. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, where she could just make out the glimmer of sunlight on water.
Beside her, Braidon gripped her hand hard. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the darkness. Unable to see where she was placing her feet, Alana pressed her hand to the wall, using the moss-covered stone to steady herself. The wall was only twenty-five feet thick, but the passage seemed to take an age. The light ahead swelled, until it was suddenly all around them.
Alana stumbled to a stop as they stepped back into the open. For a second her vision swam, and a red light stained the world. Looking out beyond the walls, it seemed as though she stood on the edge of a lake of red. Far below, ships bobbed at anchor, their sails pitch-black, their decks packed with warriors. She watched them sail away to the west, her heart soaring with the display of Plorsean power…
“Alana, Alana!”
Alana blinked as a voice called her name, and the vision faded. She glanced around and found Braidon standing next to her, his face creased with concern. Turning back to the lake, she saw its waters were the deep blue of midday. They stood at the top of the great stairwell leading down the cliffs to the docks far below. There, several ships waited, but they sported only white sails, not the black sails of war.
Shaking her head, she looked at her brother. “Sorry. Let’s go.”
She set off down the marble staircase without waiting for a response.
Devon caught a glimpse of blonde hair from the corner of his eye as he stepped towards the gates. He turned to look for the owner, but one of the guards moved into his line of sight. Fixing the spearman with a glare, he couldn’t help but smile as the man retreated.
Beside him, Kellian was still negotiating with the captain of the watch. Devon glanced around, scanning the crowd for the first sign of their pursuers. The hammer weighed heavily on his back, and he fought a sudden yearning to reach up and lift it clear. Swallowing the temptation, he shook his head and looked at his friend.
“Yes, a gold libra for each of you,” Kellian was saying, his eyes flickering from one man to another, “and there’s another in it for you to split, if you’d be so good as to delay some friends of ours.”
The man behind the desk nodded slowly. Devon could almost see the wheels of his mind whirring as he considered the offer. Grinding his teeth, Devon struggled to contain his frustration. A shout came from the marketplace and he checked the crowd again. People were turning towards a commotion behind them: Anthony and the others were drawing close. Devon clenched his fists and fought the urge to begin cracking skulls.
He had not lied to Kellian. He did not fear the royal guard, however many friends the man had brought with him. No, Devon feared what would happen if he faced them, what he might become if he unleashed his rage, and carried the ancient hammer into battle once more. He had lost himself once in Trola, becoming the warrior of dark renown, a man who killed without restraint or mercy. If he gave himself over to that same darkness, Devon wasn’t sure he would ever resurface.
Turning, Devon stepped in front of his friend. “Times up. You want the gold or not?” he hissed. A gold libra was five times what these men made in a week, and they couldn’t wait any longer.
The captain of the watch blanked, his face paling as he realised a small fortune was about to slip between his fingers. Standing, he gestured quickly at the spearmen. “Yes, yes, of course. My apologies, friends. I forgot your paperwork was already filled out yesterday.”
Devon smiled grimly as the two men stepped aside. Kellian flicked a golden coin to each of them. Placing a fourth on the table, he nodded back at the crowd. “Our friends should be arriving presently. I trust you’ll see they’re suitably delayed?”
“Of course,” the captain replied with a smile. He quickly pocketed the fourth coin. “A pleasure doing business with the two of you. Happy sailing.”
Kellian and Devon moved off without another word. Ahead the gates stood open, the heavy wood reinforced by steel. Engraved into the metal were the faces of animals—dragons and felines, raptors and great lizards—beasts of old which had fought alongside the forces of Archon. All long dead now.
As they stepped into the cold beneath the wall, the shouts behind them rose to a roar, and Devon looked back in time to see Anthony and his friends charging towards the gates. A smile crossed his face as the guards stepped across their path, spears extended. Their pursuers faltered mid-charge, the elation falling from their faces as the captain barked orders. Normally the royal guard out-ranked those in the city watch, but the Tsar allowed no exception at the city gates. All citizens coming and going from the city had to be registered. Unless of course, you paid the right fee.
Shaking his head, Devon strode down the tunnel after Kellian. With luck, the guards would delay their pursuers long enough for them to find passage across the lake. Beyond the walls, they moved quickly to the stairwell and started down. Five hundred steps were carved from the cliff-face itself, the stone worn smooth by the passage of centuries. Devon took them two at a time, his eyes on the ships waiting below. Ideally, there would be a ship heading for the northern or eastern shores, but with their pursuers not far behind, Devon would settle for the first ship leaving port.
At the bottom of the cliff, Devon took the lead, moving quickly out onto the docks. His eyes scanned the vessels gathered nearby, searching for one looking ready to disembark. A commotion near the end of the wharf drew his attention, and his eyes widened as he saw the blonde woman from the night before arguing with a black-bearded sailor. A tall young boy stood beside her, his dark hair glinting in the sunlight as he watched the woman facing off against the larger man.
“We only want passage to the shore!” the woman’s voice carried across to them.
The man, who Devon guessed was the captain of the ship behind them, shook his head. “Only room for folk going all the way to Lon. Can’t be wasting space for such a piddling fee.”
“But you’re leaving now!” the woman growled.
The captain shrugged. His eyes found Devon and Kellian standing nearby. A smile appeared on his face as he waved them over. “How about you, lads? Fancy booking passage to Lon?”
“Depends how much you’re asking?” Kellian asked, moving quickly down the wharf to join them.
Beside the captain, the woman’s grey eyes widened as she looked up and saw Devon standing there. Her surprise was quickly replaced by anger, though. Her face hardened as she stepped between the captain and Kellian, drawing the sailor’s attention back to her.
“We were here first,” she hissed.
“Ay, but you can’t pay,” the captain shot back, “and the price is five in gold, my good man.”
Devon’s stomach twisted as he thought of how much he was costing his friend, but Kellian was already shaking his head. “Then I’m afraid we cannot pay, either. But did I hear it right, you’re about to depart?”
The captain’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded. “Ay, as soon as someone fills my last beds for Lon,” he said, turning away.
“We’ll pay twice the usual ten shillings for you to drop us at the Scarlet Feline,” Kellian interrupted, “but only if you cast off now.”
Pausing mid-stride, the captain looked back at them. “In a hurry, are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “The price is thirty, then.”
Beside them, the woman’s grey eyes flashed with silent rage. They settled on Devon, and fists clenched, she stepped towards him. Sunlight flashed from the sabre strapped to her waist. “My brother and I need to be on this ship.”
Devon shrugged. “So do we.”
“Wait your turn,” she said.
“Sorry, princess,” Devon replied with a grin. “I don’t know what to tell you. Sometimes life’s not fair.”
She made to reach for her sabre, but the boy beside her gripped her arm and tugged her back. “Alana, don’t,” he said quietly. “Let me try.”
“No!” Alana spun towards her brother, Devon forgotten, and gripped him by the collar of his jacket. “Don’t you dare!”
Shaking his head, Devon looked around and saw Kellian had finished negotiating with the captain. He stood beside the gangplank gesturing for Devon to join him. The hammerman moved forward, his eyes drifting over the waiting ship. Paint was flaking from the wooden hull, revealing rot beneath, and there were large patches covering the mainsail. Several men were moving about the ship, while a trapdoor led down to what he guessed were the cramped quarters below deck. A cabin perched precariously at the rear of the vessel, but he presumed it belonged to the captain. Scarlet letters had been painted across the railings, but he could no longer read what they said. Seeing the state of the vessel, Devon was suddenly glad they would only be spending a few hours onboard.
Before he could reach his friend, Alana stepped between them again. “I won’t let you leave without us.”
Devon laughed again, his voice booming out across the open water. He stood a head and shoulders taller than the young woman. Scratching his beard, he shook his head. “And how do you intend to stop me?”
Her eyes darkened. “You two were in an awful hurry to leave up there by the gates,” she said, her voice barely audible above the winter breeze. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with last night, would it?”
“What’s it to you, princess?” Devon growled.
She took a step closer to him, her grey eyes never leaving his face. “I bet the captain would like to know the kind of men he’s carrying. You think you have enough silver to be worth him making enemies of the royal guard?”
Devon stilled, his eyes flickering back to the winding staircase. A steady trickle of people moved calmly up and down the stone steps, but there was no sign of Anthony or his men. His heart thudded in his ears as he looked back at Alana and felt the first stirring of his anger.
“Get out of my way, before I make you.”
Alana only raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flickered to the hilt of Devon’s hammer, then back to his face. “That’s a nice hammer,” she said, her voice rich with laughter. “Care to give me a closer look?”
A strained silence stretched out over the dock. Devon’s hand twitched, but he made no move to unsheathe his weapon. His body shook with rage as he stepped forward to tower over her. “Step aside,” he hissed, “or I’ll feed you to the fish.”
“Try me,” she growled, unflinching.
“Fine.”
Devon’s hand shot forward to grab her arm, but Alana was faster still. She twisted sideways, and he found only empty air. Before Devon could recover, her fist shot out and slammed into his ribcage. Pain jarred in his chest and gasping, he reared back.
A red haze filled Devon’s vision as he roared. Fists clenched, he hurled another punch. This time Alana stood her ground, her arm swinging up to deflect the blow from her body. Even so, the power in Devon’s arm was enough to stagger her. Crying out, she retreated a step, and Devon moved in for the kill.
“Devon, enough!” He looked around as Kellian’s voice carried down to them. His friend stood at the railings of the ship, his face pale as he made rapid gestures towards the gangplank. Looking around, Devon glimpsed a flash of gold on the staircase. Cursing beneath his breath, he moved towards the gangplank.
Steel rasped on leather as Alana stepped into his path, sabre drawn. “Let’s wait around and see what they have to say, shall we?” she asked calmly.
Devon’s hand was halfway to the haft of his hammer before he caught himself. His fingers twitched. He could feel the ancient weapon calling to him, urging him to draw it forth. Heat washed across his face as he imagined smashing aside her fragile blade and crushing the life from her tiny body. His heart raced as he imagined the screams, the blood…
Shuddering, Devon violently shook his head. “What do you want?” he asked, looking down into her steely grey eyes.
“Passage to the shore,” Alana said quickly. “For me and my brother.”
“Captain!” Devon yelled. The captain’s face appeared over the railings of the ship. “These two are coming, too. Kellian, pay the man.”
Ignoring the two interlopers, Devon strode past them and up the gangplank. He heard the thud of boots on wood behind him but did not glance back. His stomach still roiling with anger, he strode up onto the deck.
Kellian met him at the railing, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll bankrupt me by the end of this trip, you know.”
Not in the mood to explain, Devon shook his head and stomped past his friend. He heard the rustling of clothes as the two newcomers joined them on the vessel, but kept his gaze fixed on the lake. The sun had just passed its zenith. The winds were beginning to pick up, and far out on the lake he could see flecks of white as waves broke the surface. It would be a rough journey, and silently he hoped Alana suffered from seasickness. At least with the wind behind them, the crossing would only take a few hours.
Shouts came from the dock as the sailors set about casting them off. His stomach lurched as the ship began to pull away, the gentle waves close to the island lifting the ship beneath them. He let out a long sigh, relief rising to wash away his anger. Idly, his mind returned to the confrontation with Alana, and he suddenly wondered why the two were in such a hurry to leave Ardath.
“Men, pull anchor, let’s sail!” he heard the captain call from the helm.
The ship gave another lurch, and, looking back, Devon smiled as he saw the docks slowly drifting away. But as they began to turn in the water, a distant horn carried down from the clifftops. Still clenching the railing, Devon stared up at the stone walls of the city. The tiny figure stood there beneath a red flag, a trumpet held to his mouth. As Devon watched, another cry rang out across the water.
“Hold on, boys!” the captain shouted as the horn faded away. Shaking his head, he moved across the deck towards his passengers. “Sorry, folks, looks like we’re going to be a little while yet. They’re ordering all ships to remain in port.”
“We’ve already set sail,” Kellian replied smoothly. “Surely the order does not include us?”
Shrugging, the captain walked away. “Sorry lad, your silver’s not worth the risk. Can’t go defying the Tsar’s orders now, can we? I’m sure it won’t take long.”
Devon shared a glance with Kellian as a sailor leapt across the widening gap between the ship and the docks. They both knew who it was the guards were after. Above, the golden-helmed men were nearly halfway down the stairwell. There wasn’t much time before they reached the docks.
Silently, Kellian slid a hand into his coat. Devon knew he was checking the fastenings on his throwing knives. Closing his eyes, Devon felt the familiar yearning for combat roar in his mind, demanding he draw his hammer, unleash the beast. Fingers trembling, he reached up for the haft…
“Please, captain, I’m sure they don’t want us.”
Devon’s eyes snapped open as Alana’s voice carried across the deck. She stood beside the captain, her brother beside her, eyes wide, hands clenched into tiny balls.
Blinking, the captain shook his head, his brow knitting in confusion. “I…no, we have to wait,” he said finally.
“Please,” Alana persisted. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. Her brother shuffled closer, the wind swirling in his unkept black hair. “We’re in a hurry. Like they said, we’ve already left the dock.”
For a moment, it seemed the man would shout her down. Devon held his breath, waiting for the anger to flare in the man’s eyes. Instead, it faded, his shoulders slumping as he waved a hand.
“I guess you’re right. And I can’t go delaying an entire shipment for some bureaucratic nonsense.” Turning to the man on the dock, he waved him back to the ship. “Cast off!”
The sailor frowned, his eyes uncertain, but his hesitation vanished as the captain began bellowing orders. Long poles were extended as the man leapt back to the ship, shoving the shore away and turning to the northeast. Oars slid out from the space below the deck. As they dug down to strike the water, the ship surged forward. Overhead, wood creaked, though the mainsail remained furled.
Devon stood staring at Alana and her brother as they moved to the front of the ship, the relief on their faces palpable. Behind them, the docks shrank from view as they picked up speed. Men stood on the other ships staring after them, but no one tried to call them back. Beyond, Anthony and his friends had finally reached the bottom of the great stairwell. They raced out onto the wharf, arms waving, faces pale with exhaustion. Devon allowed himself a smile as their shouts carried out across the water, made unintelligible by distance.
“Well, she was worth the extra silver,” Kellian commented wryly as he re-joined Devon at the railings.
The smile fell from Devon’s face as he remembered his confrontation with Alana. His anger stirred, but he forced it away, turning his thoughts to the coming journey.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said quietly. “I hope that means you’ve still got a few shillings tucked up your sleeve. I have all of five left to my name.”
“Perfect.” Kellian slapped him on the back, his laughter whispering out across the lake. “You’ll be paying for our room at the Scarlet Feline tonight then. After that ordeal, I’m broke. At least until I can liquidate a few assets in Lon.”
Devon groaned, but Kellian was already moving away, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Become a paid subscriber to access this entire series from the start, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you.