The Forgotten Crown (2019) Book 1 of The Broken Crown Series

28. Shadows and Steel

By unspoken agreement the company moved on with the grey light of dawn. The early sun cast strange shadows among the grasses and the soft voices of the unknown called to them, leading them on strange paths. Mounting their horses once more they kept their eyes on the distant line of the river, the only assured method that they would not remain lost amongst the swaying land forever. Once in the saddle it was soon discovered, to the dismay of all, that the storm had advanced beyond the mountain's shadow and was once more nipping at their heels.

Their path soon grew hard and stony, the air dry and crackling with friction and heat. A shadow grew on the horizon and yet they continued. Onward they journeyed, into the swirling mists and darkening skies. Sirena held Syrus close, whispering tales of adventure in his ear, every story with a happy ending she could remember. The sky met the earth and it seemed as if they walked through the clouds, the cold mist freezing hard droplets on their cloaks and in their hair even as the dry, crackling dirt below seemed to drain the strength from their weary bodies.

Other shadows plagued them, ones that seemed to haunt and bite; the playful magic of the purple moor long gone. It was as if evil followed their steps, clingy and oppressing. The warmth was leached from their bones until Sirena was sure she was slowly turning into a moving statue. Every move of the horse, every creak of the saddle popped like snapping twigs, the noise rending the air in great moans.

"Something stalks us, something foul. I feel its very breath upon my neck" Jarsha whispered into the gloom and they all jumped, the sound of his voice foreign in the absolute silence.

"I grow weary of this blindness, a storm is what breathes down our necks and I would see us to shelter." Beatrice's unfazed manner belied the fear in her eyes.

"Let us chase away the shadows then, shall we? Be on your guard." Slipping from her saddle, Sirena kept a tight hold on the reigns. It had come upon them slowly, yet she knew the touch of a mage now when she felt it. They halted, each hovering closely to one another in anticipation. Stepping forward she spread her palms and instinctively let the light pour through her, battering her in massive waves, gushing from her fingertips. The swirling mists retreated from them like a slapped hand and all fell into chaos.

Shouts rang through the air as steel clashed with steel. The earth heaved, spraying the air with great gouts and clods. All was confusion as the world turned upside down.

"Mages!" someone screamed as the companions ducked in the dirt, Sirena dragged Syrus from the horse. A thick bolt whistled past Letty and Beatrice's heads as they cowered in the dirt. A fierce anger clutched her but they were helpless to the onslaught.

A small host of soldiers encircled them. Pulling swords from sheaths, Donovan, Jarsha and Sirena charged into the fray, swinging left and right, moving through the ranks in a rotating circle, their backs facing inward. The soldier before Sirena fell screaming to the hard ground, missing an arm. Lyfe remained strapped tightly to her back as unwieldy as ever.

Donovan fought to her left and Jarsha to her right. Swiftly they dispatched ten soldiers until they once more swung at empty air. The rest of their foe vanished like spectres in the mist. The shadows swirled about them ominously, tension rising. One bold shadow coalesced into the indistinct shape of a man. It darted forward, snatching the blades from their grasps. Away flew one blade, then the next, the final blade still clutched tightly in Sirena's grasp. The shadow advanced, wrapping its cold, hazy fingers about the steel. Feeling as if the floodgates had been opened, the light began rushing from her in a torrent, the shadows hold freezing upon the steel. Unleashing an unearthly screech it flew away into the swirling darkness.

The shadows amassed, forming a mighty fist which smote them upon the ground and the darkness was all around them, clutching them in its iron grasp, suffocating all...and then darkness was all there was.

Stars whirled in the heavens even as the sun blazed bright and hot. Sweat beaded upon Beatrice's brow, upon her chest and aching back. An incredibly dry heat permeated all as she attempted to stir. Shackles bound her tight to the floor of a moving cage. The sun swayed back and forth and she groaned in pain and thirst, the lump on the back of her skull unbelievably intolerable. A low moan somewhere to her left let her know she was not alone, after a few feeble attempts she was able to roll to her side. Letty lay bound similarly and Syrus beyond her, three more faces beyond him she did not recognize.

Flashes of battle and shadow played through her mind and the events of their capture unfolded. The terrible dark fist that had dashed all of their valiant efforts to naught raked at her, filling her with a justified anger but even more so, fear. The barred wagon rolled onwards into the oppressive heat of a desert, the sand and dirt a ghastly red hue.

Breathing deeply to clear the dizziness, Beatrice rolled to her other side and peered outward. Cage after rolling cage fell before and behind, all filled with livestock of one kind or another, some human, some beast and others still, strange and unknown.

Disgust filled her mouth and she fought the savage urge to spit. Slavers. She was once more a slave to be used at the whim of the highest bidder, only this time she feared they would fare much, much worse. The harsh strains of a vicious fight filled her ears and Letty stirred at the sound of the abominable growls of fighting jackals.

"Where are we?" she croaked "What are we?" she moaned in pain. "Do we yet live?" Syrus soon stirred at her side and after much moaning and rolling about the three lay facing each other once more.

Letty turned a sickly green after the single word Bea uttered. "Forsake us not" she whispered the age old prayer of despairing souls to the heavens.

"The others?" This from Syrus who looked incredibly pale and small in the harsh red light, his darker than night eyes shining with fear of the unthinkable.

"I pray they yet live." That was all that was said, all that could be said. They endured on in silence, their fervent whispered prayers carried away on the dry wind.