Oathbreaker - Chapter 6
Devon looked back as the rumble of galloping hooves approached behind them...
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.
Devon looked back as the rumble of galloping hooves approached behind them. Overhead, the remnants of last night’s storm still darkened the sky, threatening rain. Open fields spread out around them, obscured by a low haze that had swept in overnight. Squinting, Devon tried to make out the oncoming horsemen. Beside him, Kellian loosened a dagger in its sheath.
The wind swirled, the mists parting to reveal the dark-cloaked riders. Devon breathed a sigh of relief as he saw their helms were of black steel, rather than the gold of the royal guard. Coming to a stop, they watched as the riders closed in on them, their burly steeds moving at pace. Only when they were a few yards away did the men finally pull back on the reins, bringing their horses to a halt.
The rider in the lead reached up and removed his helm. Devon swore beneath his breath as he found the cold brown eyes of his former comrade staring down at him. Silently, he cursed the ale they’d drunk last night. He’d spent his remaining shillings getting roaringly drunk with Kellian in celebration of their newfound ‘freedom’. As a result, they’d both slept long past the dawn. The sun had been high in the sky by the time they’d set off down the Gods Road.
The slightest smile touched Quinn’s lips. “Devon, so good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Devon replied softly.
While they’d fought together during the civil war, things had never been more than professional between the two warriors. Quinn had built himself a fearsome reputation with his blade during the war—and his magic only made him all the more formidable. Yet it had been Devon who’d been promoted to lieutenant, something that seemed to rankle the former Battle Magicker. Devon’s rejection of a commission after the war had only added fuel to the man’s hostility.
“Kellian, too, I see,” Quinn added, looking down at the smaller man. “What brings two former soldiers so far from the capital at such an inhospitable time of year?”
Devon narrowed his eyes as he looked around the gathered horsemen. They had formed up in a semicircle around the two travellers, leaving them only one direction to flee. His fists tightened as he saw several hands resting on the pommels of swords. He returned his gaze to Quinn. The man spoke as though he’d expected to find them out here. Suddenly, Devon wondered whether the royal guard had sent the Stalkers after them. He quickly dismissed the idea—Quinn and his men had no interest in petty squabbles.
“Thought Lon might have better prospects for work,” Devon answered. He cleared his throat. “And what brings the legendary Stalkers riding so hard down the Gods Road?”
“Hunting,” Quin replied with a grin that sent ice trickling down Devon’s spine. The Stalker studied the two men a moment longer, before swinging down from the saddle. He was shorter than Devon by a head, but he carried himself with the authority of a much larger man. Stepping in close, he looked up at Devon. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Devon frowned. This time there was no need to fake the expression. “Hunting?” He spread his hands. “Afraid not. I keep myself well clear of anything magic related. Bad for my health.”
“The couple we hung a few days back, they came to you for help. Do you deny it?” Quinn replied, his eyes hard and unblinking.
“They did,” Devon replied, unsurprised by the man’s knowledge. He didn’t need to ask how Quinn had come by the information. “I told them they should hand their son in to the Tsar.”
Quinn nodded slowly. “Didn’t think you needed to share your information with the authorities, though?”
Devon clenched his jaw. “Guess it slipped my mind.”
The Stalker jabbed a finger at Devon’s chest. “I could put you away for that.”
Anger flaring, Devon moved in close to the dark-cloaked man. “Is that so, lieutenant?” he asked quietly. His eyes flickered around the ring of horsemen. There were twelve of them, all armed with sabres. His gaze returned to Quinn. “Are you sure you brought enough men for that?”
Quinn didn’t flinch, but Devon could see the sudden fear in his eyes. A smile spread across the hammerman’s unshaven cheeks. The lieutenant’s face turned red and he straightened, a sneer appearing on his lips.
“Did you suddenly find your manhood then?” he laughed, nodding to the hammer on Devon’s back. “Or were you intending to hide behind your friend’s skirt?”
Iron bands wrapped around Devon’s stomach. He bared his teeth, his hand moving unbidden to the haft of his hammer. Quinn’s eyes widened, but this time he did not move. Gripping kanker more tightly, Devon stared down at the man, feeling the rage burning through him. The moment stretched out, the air taut as a wire. Around them, the other Stalkers watched in silence.
Finally, Devon let out a long breath and released his hammer. He took a step back, adding breathing space between himself and the lieutenant.
“At least I haven’t made a living murdering women and children,” he muttered.
Quinn bared his teeth, his hand dropping to his sabre. “You’d better show some respect, coward.”
“Respect is earned, sonny,” Devon replied.
“Earned?” Quinn said dangerously. Now it was his turn to step forward, his hand still wrapped around the hilt of his sabre. “Have I not earned your respect with all my years of service? For the decade I have spent serving our Tsar, protecting our nation from the scourge of wild magic?”
“That couple was no threat to anyone.”
“Their son was,” Quinn replied, eyes glittering. “Or did you not see what he did at the stepwell?”
“Ay, and what became of him, I wonder? Is he sitting in some dungeon now, or did you kill him yourself, lieutenant?”
A smile appeared on Quinn’s face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, big man,” he whispered. “But I digress. Where is the Magicker you’re hiding?”
“There is no Magicker,” Devon growled. He spread his arms, as if to show he wasn’t hiding anyone up his sleeves. “Unless you think I suddenly developed the gift.”
Quinn snorted. He stared at Devon for a long moment as though weighing him up, searching for some deceit or trick that would reveal the truth. But for once, Devon had nothing to hide. A smile twitched on his lips as the Stalker finally turned his attention to Kellian.
“And what about you, Kellian?” he snapped.
Kellian laughed. “Still just a simple innkeeper, I’m afraid.”
Sneering, Quinn shook his head. “I heard the Firestone burned down. That would make you just a simpleton then, I guess?” Ignoring Kellian’s sudden loss of colour, Quinn looked back at Devon. “You had best watch yourself, Devon. Lots of accidents can happen on the road. Would be a shame if something happened to our cowardly hero.”
With that, the man turned his back and returned to his horse. Mounting, he placed his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The squadron surged forward, the massive horses racing around Kellian and Devon before setting off down the Gods Road at a trot.
When the horsemen had faded back into the fog, Devon shook his head. “What do you think that was all about?”
“I don’t know,” Kellian replied, his voice hollow, “but they’re out for blood. I hope those two kids aren’t on the road when they ride past.”
***
The afternoon found Alana and her brother on the road, already half-a-dozen leagues from the Scarlet Feline. Alana had spent much of the night imagining the Stalker lieutenant she’d glimpsed in the stepwell chasing her and her brother through the gardens of her dreams. No matter how she tossed and turned, she could not escape him, couldn’t keep from returning to that same scene, that same question.
Are you ready, Alana?
No!
How could she ever be ready to face such a man? She was good with a sabre, but the Stalker had access to magic, had been trained since youth to use it. She’d watched Quinn smash aside the young Magicker’s feeble flames and knock him unconscious in a matter of moments. What chance did a mere mortal like her stand against him?
Unable to sleep any longer, Alana had risen with the first crow of the rooster and dressed quickly. Waking her brother had been difficult. He hadn’t been eager to leave the comfort of his bed, but in the end, she’d forced him, dragging him out from beneath the duvet and dumping him on the floor.
He walked sullenly beside her now, his head down, lips pursed tight. He had hardly said a word all day, but she was just glad they’d gotten away without seeing Devon and his friend again. She’d been afraid they’d offer to join them on the road. She still had her reservations about the man’s apparent change of heart, but it was her brother that concerned her more. He was untutored in his power. What if he accidentally revealed it to the two men? Friendly as they now appeared, Alana knew she couldn’t trust such a secret to strangers.
As they walked, she scanned the roadside, her eyes travelling out over the rolling farmland in search of danger. Here the land was used for pasture, the bright grass reviving the memory of her dreams. Sheep and cattle dotted the fields, heads down as they grazed. Earlier they’d walked past fields of maize and wheat, their long fronds obscuring her view. Even now a fog covered the ground, and she could only see several dozen yards in either direction. Away to her left she could just make out the towering treeline that marked the banks of the river Lon.
Eventually they would have to cross the river to enter Lonia, but for now Alana was happy to follow the road as far north as they could. They would have to make the crossing themselves—after last night’s stay, there was no way they could afford another ferry. But there were bound to be narrow points they could ford.
She paused midstride as dark shapes appeared through the fog ahead. Her heart started to race, but a moment later she let out a sigh as she realised they were only trees. Ahead, the open fields gave way abruptly to the twisted mass of a forest. Beside her, Braidon continued on with his head down, ignorant to their surroundings. Racing to catch up, she gripped him by the arm and nodded at the trees.
“I think that’s Sitton Forest,” she murmured.
His eyes widened as he looked up and saw the waiting trees. Shadows clung to the earth beneath their twisted trunks. Mould had turned their bark black, giving them an otherworldly look. Where the Gods Road met the trees, it split in two, one heading east around the forest, the other straight through. Small saplings sprouted from the overgrown path leading through the trees, and roots riddled the hard-packed earth.
“Are you sure you want to go through?” her brother asked, his anger apparently forgotten.
The fog seemed to press in around them as they came to a stop at the fork in the road. Alana swallowed, eyeing the trees. The sun remained hidden behind the clouds, but they still had several hours of daylight left. Not so in the forest. Beneath the canopy, darkness reigned. Biting her lip, she looked at her brother.
“I—” She broke off as the sound of hooves pounding earth carried to them.
She spun around, eyes searching the fog for sign of the horsemen. Her heart hammering in her chest, Alana shared a glance with her brother, but there was no telling who approached. The thick fog pressed closer, concealing everything more than a few feet from them.
“The forest!” Alana hissed. Grabbing Braidon by the shirt, she dragged him down the path. “Come on, before they spot us.”
An icy breath slid down her back as they staggered down the Gods Road and ducked into the trees on the side of the path. Crouching in the leaf litter, Alana stared back towards the south, seeking out the first sign of the riders. Her breath quickened as she glimpsed shadows through the blanket of grey-white. Blood rushed to her ears, deafening her. She held her breath, trying to still her nerves. Reaching out, she gripped her brother’s hand tight.
As the horsemen neared, she began to make out details. They wore dark cloaks and black helms, the markings of the Tsar’s Stalkers. Alana crouched lower in the foliage and sent up a desperate prayer to any deity who might be listening. The blood froze in her veins as she recognised the face of the leader; the same face that had haunted her dreams.
Quinn.
His presence could not be a coincidence, surely? Did the Tsar have the power to reach out into her very mind now? Had his power led the Stalkers after them? The thought sent a shiver down to her very soul. Breath held, Alana watched them come, expecting the racing horsemen to plunge straight into the trees after them.
The horsemen slowed as they approached the fork in the road. Alana cursed herself for rushing down the path without taking care to hide their tracks. The light was dim, and she prayed they would not spot any sign left by the two travellers.
Quinn pulled his horse to a stop not twenty feet from where they hid, his eyes fixed to the ground. The other horsemen gathered behind him, their eyes on the forest and surrounding farmland. A frown furrowed Quinn’s face as he studied the trail, the gelding jostling beneath him. Its snorts were audible from Alana’s hiding place, and she could see foam flecking the coats of their horses. It was clear these men had been riding hard. Closing her eyes, Alana waited for the inevitable shouts of discovery.
She caught the murmur of voices, and looked up again in time to see the lieutenant point his horse down the other trail. “We’ll take the ring road. If there’s still no sign of this Magicker by the time the paths re-join, half of us will head back through the forest, while the rest recheck the Gods Road.”
Without waiting for a response from his men, Quinn kicked his horse. The beast leapt forward, racing down the path away from the forest. Alana let out a breath as the other men followed suit. Slowly, the pounding of hooves faded into the distance. Sitting back on the damp ground, she looked at her brother with a smile.
“Guess we’re going through the forest,” she panted, her heart still racing.
Braidon said nothing, only nodded, and she read the fear in his eyes. The Stalkers had been so close, that a single movement might have given them away. She could only guess how the hunters had discovered them. The Tsar was said to have power beyond any ordinary Magicker, but surely if he knew their location, the Stalkers would not have ridden past them. She could only assume that meant the riders had no way of magically locating their prey.
Alana had no intention of making the chase any easier for them. From here on out, they would keep off the road. If they walked amongst the trees alongside the path, she was confident they could find their way, and still prevent the riders from taking them by surprise again. It would make for slow going in the gloomy light beneath the canopy, but at least they’d be safe.
Standing, Alana pulled Braidon up with her. “Come on, the faster we move, the more distance we put between us and them.”
“Didn’t you hear what they said?” Braidon hissed. “They’re going to ride back through the forest.”
“Yes, but they won’t see us,” Alana replied with a confidence she didn’t feel. “We’ll stick to the trees, follow the path from a distance.”
She felt her brother trembling as he took her hand. “The trees?” His voice shook as he glanced around.
Alana tried to keep the fear from her face as she followed his gaze. The innkeeper had been right, there was a weirdness to this forest, a wrongness she couldn’t quite place. But there was no movement beneath the canopy, no sign of danger—just twisting branches and curling green vines that crawled along the forest floor.
“It’s the safest way,” she replied finally. “Come on, the faster we move, the sooner we’ll put this place behind us.”
“What do you think?” Kellian asked.
Devon glanced at his friend, one eyebrow raised. “I think I’ve passed this way a dozen times without a problem,” he replied with a grin. “Don’t tell me you’re getting superstitious in your old age, Kellian?”
Kellian snorted. “I was more concerned about bandits. In those trees, we’d never see them coming.”
“What would a bunch of bandits want with a couple of paupers like us?”
“Maybe if you hadn’t spent the last of your coin on ale last night, we’d have something for them to steal,” Kellian shot back.
Devon laughed, but shook his head. “Come on, the Sitton road is faster.”
“Yes, and our old friend’s tracks go around. Are you sure you’re not just avoiding another encounter?”
“There is that,” Devon said, grinning. “Are you spoiling for a fight so soon after the last one?”
Kellian rolled his eyes, but he stepped onto the forest path without further argument. Chuckling to himself, Devon strode after his friend. To the west, the sun was just beginning to sink behind the trees on the riverbank, while ahead the forest of Sitton lay in darkness. He shivered as they entered the shadows, the temperature plummeting.
“I hope you’re right about this place,” Kellian muttered as they pressed deeper into the forest.
Darkness clung to the track here. The road was becoming overgrown as the forest reclaimed the hard-packed earth, making the way difficult. Several times Devon cursed as a root tripped him, or he found the soft trunk of a sapling in his path.
“Do me a favour,” Kellian said after an hour, “keep that hammer of yours handy.”
“You worry too much, old friend,” Devon replied in a light-hearted voice, though even as he spoke he reached up and loosened kanker in its sheath. “What ever happened to the wily warrior I fought beside in Trola?”
“He got old,” Kellian snapped. Devon looked round in surprise, but in the gloom it was difficult to make out his friend’s expression. After a moment, Kellian went on in a softer tone. “He grew a brain, stopped taking so many unnecessary risks.”
Devon nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. His friend was right, taking the forest path was an unnecessary danger. It would take at least two days to clear the forest—longer if they lost their way. The road was badly overgrown and it would be easy to wander off the path. That was a long time for any disreputable souls inhabiting the forest to learn of their presence. He and Kellian might not have anything of value, but the bandits wouldn’t know that.
Silently he lengthened his stride. “Come on, we can still make good ground before nightfall.”
Kellian muttered something beneath his breath, but he picked up the pace. They staggered on for another hour before the darkness became so thick they could barely make out their hands in front of their faces. Several times Devon was struck in the eye by unseen branches, his height for once a disadvantage.
Cursing, he finally staggered to a stop. “This is far enough, I’ll not be thrashed half to death by a forest. We’ll wait for the light of—”
He broke off as a piercing shriek carried through the trees. A tingle of fear shot down Devon’s spine as he swung towards the sound. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck as the cry came again. He glanced at his friend, but Kellian was staring in the same direction, his hand gripped tight around the hilt of a knife.
Kellian looked around as the scream died away. His face was drained of colour. “Someone’s in trouble,” he said softly.
“How far, do you think?” Devon whispered.
“Close,” Kellian replied, “It’s difficult to tell in the trees.” He looked at Devon, his hazel eyes wrinkled with concern.
Devon’s heart was racing at the thought of danger. He glanced back the way they’d come, but the light had died and there was no sign of the path. The scream came again. The hammer weighed heavily on his back. He could feel the burden of its history calling to him, the legends of his ancestors. He thought again of Trola, of the burning cities and bloody streets, and shuddered.
Was he strong enough to wield it once more, and keep to the path of good?
As the scream slowly died away, Devon made up his mind.
“Let’s go,” he hissed.
He bounded into the trees without waiting for a reply. Leaves and branches crunched beneath his boots as he ran, kanker suddenly in hand. He tightened his grip around its wooden haft, drawing reassurance from its weight. A sense of elation filled him as he fought the trees, picturing the battle to come, the spilling of blood and screams of the dying. His breath came faster, his heart pounding like a wagon racing over a rutted street.
Another shriek carried through the trees, loud and piercing, calling him on. The darkness pressed in around them, but Devon no longer struggled with the roots and branches. His feet found their way with sudden accuracy, dancing through the unseen obstacles. He ran on through a tunnel of darkness. He was aware of Kellian’s presence beside him, but in that moment, he felt alone with the shadows, at one with the power thumping through his body, the beast writhing within him.
Ahead, the trees opened up, giving way suddenly to a clearing. Movement came from its centre. Lifting his hammer, Devon leapt towards it, mouth open to scream a battle cry…only to stagger to a stop as shapes took form from the darkness.
Alana stood alone in the clearing, grey eyes wild, blond hair a tangled mess. She held her sabre in one hand, the silver blade a blur, darting in and out, striking at the green things that reached for her. For a second, Devon thought they were snakes, only they had no heads, no mouths, no scales. As he watched, one shot out and wrapped a slender tendril around her ankle. The scream came again, one of pure, unbridled rage. Twisting, Alana’s sabre flashed down, severing the living vine, allowing her to dance clear.
But already more vines were closing in. Her sabre flashed again as one wrapped around her wrist, but it was clear she was fighting a losing battle. At her feet, her brother lay motionless, wrapped in a seething mass of green. Even as Devon watched, his body jerked, and started to slide away from Alana.
Shouting, Alana leapt after him, her sabre slashing wildly at the vines encasing her brother. Then she staggered, her feet coming up short as several tendrils trapped her legs. Before she could lift her sabre to cut herself free, they jerked violently, sending her crashing to the ground.
“What are you waiting for?” Kellian screamed as he shot past. “Help her!”
Devon shook off his shock and staggered after his friend. Kellian held a dagger in each hand now, their steel blades shimmering as they slashed at the vines around Alana. Beyond, Braidon’s body gave another jerk, the tangled vines dragging him across the clearing. Grasping his hammer, Devon charged after the boy.
The thrill of battle boiled in Devon’s veins as the weight of the weapon settled into his hands. Roaring, he bounded towards the nearest vines, the ancient hammer sweeping down to crush them. The vines fell back at kanker’s touch, and he charged on, a war cry on his lips.
Nearby, Alana was back on her feet. She stood back to back with Kellian, her sabre sweeping out to fend off another attack. But the vines had separated them from Braidon. Gritting his teeth, Devon fought his way after the boy.
The blood froze in Devon’s chest as his eyes followed the vines to the trees, and he saw what waited there. In the darkness, red eyes glowed from the trunks of the trees. Beneath the eyes, great fissures split the trunks, forming gaping jaws of hardened bark. Alana’s cry came from across the clearing as her brother slid inexorably closer to the awful mouths.
Devon flinched as a tendril wrapped around his bicep and he felt the bite of thorns piercing his flesh. Kanker swept down, its hardened head catching the vines mid-swing. At its touch, they fell back, their colour fading to black as they dropped to the forest floor. Teeth gritted in rage, Devon forced his way through towards Braidon, fighting to place himself between the boy and the demonic trees.
Behind him he could hear the cries and grunts of Alana and Kellian as they fought for their freedom. Flashing them a glance, his heart lurched in his chest as he saw his friend go down, his feet whipped out from beneath him by writhing vegetation. Alana leapt to defend him, but another vine trapped her sword arm. Cursing, she drew her dagger and sliced at her supernatural assailants, but the steel blades no longer seemed effective.
Torn between his friend and the helpless boy, Devon hesitated. Panic rose in his chest. Around him the vines closed in, forming a writhing wall of green. Tightening his grip on the hammer, he made up his mind. Smashing a path through the vines, he started towards the dark glow of the nearest tree. The red eyes seemed to be watching him, an ancient hatred in their bloody depths. His breath coming in raged gasps, Devon fought his way towards them, driven by instinct now. The vines grew thicker around him, but just a touch from his warhammer was all it took for them to fall back.
With a roar, he reached the demonic tree and raised kanker above his head. A high-pitched shriek tore through the clearing, driving shards of pain deep into Devon’s skull. The noise seemed to come from all around, but he recognised it for what it was—a last, desperate attempt to halt his attack. Clenching his jaw, he gripped the hammer in both hands and swung.
Vines flashed for his face, wrapping about his neck and torso, but not even the thrashing tendrils could halt his attack now. The great tree seemed to shrink an instant before kanker struck, the vile glow dying in the red slits of its eyes. The mouth snapped closed.
A sharp crack echoed through the clearing as kanker plunged home. The vibration of the blow shook Devon to his core, almost making him drop the hammer. Clenching his teeth, he held on, and lifted the ancient weapon for another swing.
An awful groan came from the tree, but the vines continued to thrash, the terrible tendrils all around him now. Razor-sharp thorns tore at his thighs and he could feel blood dripping down his back, but still he raised the hammer high.
“Die, bastard,” Devon growled.
Red light flashed across the clearing as he drove the ancient weapon down into the blazing eyes. The wooden mouth groaned open, and it seemed a pure darkness came rushing out, a cloud of evil that fled away into the forest.
Devon staggered back as a sudden stillness came over the clearing. A wave of exhaustion swept through him, but summoning the last of his strength, he forced himself to look around at the surrounding trees. The other eyes had vanished, plunging the clearing into darkness. His gaze continued around to find Alana and Kellian standing nearby. The boy, Braidon, lay not far from where he stood.
Suddenly kanker felt unbearably heavy in his hands. Devon let the hammer fall. The thud as it struck the ground seemed unnaturally loud in the silence. He swayed on his feet, and Kellian quickly stepped forward and offered his shoulder. Cuts marked his friend’s arms and face, but he seemed to have fended off the worst of the attack.
Alana gave a strangled cry and ran to her brother. Devon watched as she dropped to her knees beside the boy. He heard a voice sound from far away. Turning, he tried to focus on the face of his friend, but the world was fading now, darkness swirling at the edges of his vision. Relieved, he opened his arms and embraced it like an old friend.
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