Blade of the North

  Blade of the North

  H. A. Jones

  Copyright © 2021 H. A. Jones

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Nusrat_design7

  For Hannah, Nate and Faith

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Run!” Rose screams at me.

  I don’t run. I’m too stunned to move.

  “Run, Sara!” Rose screams again, the wind whipping her red hair behind her. She is hysterical, her eyes filled with fear.

  I stare at her blankly. My limbs won’t move. I know I should be running like the others, but I can’t. I’m in shock. How can this be happening?

  “Sara!” she yells, pointing frantically behind me.

  The terror in her voice forces my muscles to move. I turn and look back to where she is pointing. A dark shape hurtles towards me and I barely have time to throw myself to the ground before an arrow whistles past where my head had just been.

  Looking up I see the town of Farley, my home, in flames. Smoke rises from inside the walls. Buildings are burning. A tear runs down my cheek as I watch my hometown being destroyed. And in front of the walls, coming across the field towards us, are the black-clad soldiers of Emperor Tigranik’s army. Some of them have their swords out, a fierce look on their faces, while others are holding bows and firing arrows at us.

  Shrieks and cries and screams of agony fill my ears. People are dying in the town. People are dying out here too, in the field where we had gathered early in the morning to play.

  I hear my name again and turn back to Rose. “Come on Sara,” she calls to me. “We’ve got to get to the forest.”

  Looking back to the soldiers marching across the field, I push myself up off the ground then jump immediately to the side as another arrow races towards me. Rolling on the ground I come up to my feet and finally listen to the words of my friend. I run.

  The field where we were all playing has somehow become a battleground. “Where did they come from?” I call out to Rose as I catch up to her and we race for the forest.

  “I don’t know. We should have had warning.”

  Rose is right. Emperor Tigranik’s army – the ironically named Peace Bringers – aren’t supposed to be anywhere near us. But they are, or at least some of the army is. Enough of it to lay ruin to Farley.

  I run as hard as I can. Every few seconds I glance behind me, hoping the soldiers have stopped their pursuit, but they haven’t. Twelve of us are running headlong for the trees, still a few hundred yards away. The forest is thick, an easy place to hide. Ahead of me, I see Jerym, my older brother, running for the trees, and I breathe a sigh of relief. But then I remember the rest of my family.

  And I stop running.

  Rose slows down and calls to me over her shoulder. “Sara! Come on! We have to keep going.”

  I turn and look back at the smoke billowing out of Farley. I think of my mother, trapped in the flames, and my baby sister, Rehana, helpless with her.

  “Sara!” Rose calls out again, her voice desperate.

  I’m terrified. I want to run, to flee into the forest with the rest of them. But I can’t leave my family behind.

  Across the field, between the town and me, are the advancing soldiers. Six of them have broken away from the main army to turn their attention towards us. They mustn’t think we’re dangerous enough to worry about sending more. I quickly make up my mind and turn and run for the safety of the forest. Relief sweeps across Rose’s face as I run alongside her.

  The forest seems an eternity away, but we keep running. An occasional arrow flies past us to fall harmlessly on the ground. My breath is coming hard, and my legs are hurting, but I force myself to keep running. I don’t look back, willing myself to make it to the forest.

  Finally Rose bursts through the first line of trees. I’m only a few steps behind her. We keep running, dodging trees, and jumping over fallen logs or small mounds in the uneven ground. I tempt a glance over my shoulder and my foot kicks something hard and I trip, falling heavily to the ground.

  “Sara!” Rose calls back to me. She starts to come to me but then looks up and her face falls, terrified. “Get up Sara! Run!” She turns and runs off deeper into the forest.

  Looking back, I see the cause of Rose’s fear: a soldier is racing through the trees towards me. I jump up and run, fast as I ever have, but the soldier is gaining on me. Branches grab and claw at my clothes. I duck and dodge, weaving amongst the trees, trying to escape. I keep looking over my shoulder only to see him still behind me. And getting closer.

  His footsteps are right behind me, growing louder. In front of me is a tree with a branch just above my head. I jump desperately for it, and my fingers barely manage to cling on. I swing forward on the branch then kick my legs into the air, up and back over the branch. The rest of me swings up too and I end up holding myself on the branch, my legs dangling down. I reach up to grab another branch and climb higher, but the soldier’s hands take a hold of my legs. I hold on, trying to wrench my legs free, but his grip is like a vice and I feel my fingers loosening their hold on the branch. Suddenly there is a cracking sound and my branch snaps off. I fall with a scream, landing hard on the soldier below me. I roll away and pull my legs under me, ready to run, but the soldier is lying on the ground, motionless. I try to regain my breath as I take a closer look at him. Like the other Peace Bringers, he is wearing black-painted steel scales over a tunic the colour of midnight, and his helmet is lying on the ground behind him. Blood seeps from a wound in his head where the falling branch must have hit him.

  Looking around quickly, I can hear the heavy footfalls and cries of others running through the forest, but there is no one near me that I can see. I crouch low and run – but this time I’m not following Rose. I have to get back to the town, to my mother and sister. I turn to my right, staying in the forest but skirting close to its edge.

  My heart sinks as I circle the town. The view from the safety of the trees is depressing: smoke from inside the walls rises unabated. Cries from the injured and dying carry out to me even here. Tears fall down my cheeks – how could anyone still be alive in there? But I push the thought aside – the soldiers of Tigranik don’t murder indiscriminately in a town unless they want to make an example of it. At least that is what the rumours say. And what possible example could Farley be to anyone?

  Mother must still be alive, I tell myself. And so is Rehana. Holding firmly to that hope I dash out of the forest, across the open field and back towards Farley.

  No soldiers are in view on this side of the town, and I arrive at the town wall undisturbed. With my back against the wall, I inch closer and closer to the West Gate – or rather, to where the West Gate was. It has been completely destroyed and there is now nothing but a gaping hole in the wall where the gate once stood. I lean my head out and peer cautiously around the corner, into the town.

  Small fires are burning everywhere, and the air is thick with smoke. The little that I can see tears my heart apart. Buildings I used to know so well are in ruins. There is the Old Tipper, the bar where my mother used to serve drinks. Its walls are black
, and the roof has collapsed. Across the street is Dain’s house. It too has no roof and flames lick up the half-crumbled walls. Everywhere I look it is the same – buildings are on fire, crumbling, or a smoking ruin. This street near the gate used to be lined with evergreens, but now the trees are only burned-out stumps.

  Then there are the bodies.

  All along the street in either direction, bodies are sprawled on the ground. In front of me a man has a gash in his head so deep I can see his ruined brain. Next to him, another man has a wound so deep in his chest that his insides are lying on the ground beside him. Up and down the street the remains of the bloody battle are everywhere. Involuntarily I put my hand to my mouth as the sight and smell of all the gore and death makes me want to empty my stomach.

  Groans from those who are still alive assault my ears, but I can’t think about them. I have to find Mother and Rehana. Looking through the smoke, I can’t see any Peace Bringers, so I push away from the wall and run into the town.

  My family’s home is over on the east side of Farley. Quickly I make my way through the wider streets and turn into the warren of alleys in the middle of the town. It is like a maze in here, easy to get lost for someone who doesn’t know their way. But I have always known these alleys and the people who live in them. Used to live in them, I correct myself. I slow down as I look around at places once so familiar to me. These alleys used to be a riot of noise and colour, the local merchants selling their clothes and food, sweets and toys, and a hundred other things. Now they are dark and grimy, the air dense with smoke. And they are empty. There are no children running around, squealing happily as they play at hiding. There are no shouts from the merchants trying to sell goods from their makeshift stalls. There is only smouldering rubble, and here and there a body on the ground, most of them with slashes in their backs as they have been cut down trying to flee.

  Distantly I hear muffled cries and the clash of steel, and as I approach the end of the warren of alleyways the sound of fighting grows louder. Then, turning a corner, in the street crossing the end of the alley, I see soldiers fighting against my fellow townsmen. I edge my way to the end of the alley and the sounds of the fighting envelop me. Swords clash and scrape. Men call out, ordering each other, encouraging each other. Bodies slump to the ground or fall with a loud thud. The terrible sound of steel piercing flesh is horrific – but more so are the screams and the cries of agony that follow as the realisation of impending death sets in.

  I need to cross the street, to run through the battle raging in front of me. But I can’t. Fear holds me against the wall at the mouth of the alley. I try and push off the wall, but my strength fails me. I try again, but I can’t move. I close my eyes, feeling helpless. Images of Rehana and Mother enter my mind and I open my eyes. I must keep going.

  Pushing away from the wall I immediately dive to the ground as a sword slashes above my head. Rolling to my feet I dance around three soldiers flailing their swords at two townsmen. I’m bumped from behind and turn to see another man being forced back by the relentless, furious blows of a soldier’s sword. I back away from them and then scream as the soldier’s sword slides underneath the defences of the defender and is embedded in his chest.

  The soldier looks at me and my stomach turns to water. I try to run but he grabs me by the arm in a grip that nearly crushes my wrist. He raises his sword and is about to strike but I kick him hard between the legs, just like father taught me. The soldier drops his sword and doubles over. His grip on my wrist relaxes just enough for me to pull free.

  Chaos is everywhere. I run for the nearest side street, hoping to get away from the battle. Running down the narrow street I can still hear the sounds of battle from all around, but at least there is no fighting here. I race out of the street into the town square and skid to a stop, shocked. In the middle of the square is a large fountain spurting water high into the sky. It isn’t the fountain that shocks me though, but what surrounds it. Huddled tightly together around the stone base of the fountain are the people of my town. Hundreds of them. They are all sitting, dejected, their heads in their hands. Blood covers many of them. I scan the faces in the crowd, searching for Mother or Rehana. I see some of my friends, hugging their legs close to them, heads bowed low on their knees. But my mother and sister are not there.

  Apart from the occasional groan, the square is eerily quiet. Then I see why: all of these people, the people of my town, are captives. Peace Bringers march around them, keeping one eye on the captives and the other on the streets around them.

  I take an involuntary step towards them – there must be something I can do. One of the Peace Bringers notices me, and I stop, my heart skipping a beat. He has big, muscled arms and a scar across his forehead, and he walks towards me with a leering smile. I want to help my friends, but there is nothing I can do – so I turn my back on them and run again. The soldier chases me, ordering me to stop. But I know what will happen to me if I do.

  I race down a street strewn with rubble, the smoke-filled air filling my lungs. There are holes in the fire-blackened walls of buildings that only yesterday had been whitewashed and clean. I jump through an opening in one of the walls and run through the ruins of what was once a bakery, diving out headfirst through a hole that was once a window on the other side. Using my hands to break my fall I duck my head and land on my shoulders, then roll forward and spring back to my feet, running again without slowing down. Behind me, I hear a loud crash. The soldier is still chasing me.

  My house is not far and even though everything looks different now, being so near my home restores a small measure of my confidence. I turn down a small side street and up ahead I see what I need. Slowing down, I let the soldier gain on me. When he is almost upon me, I leap over a tumbled down wall. As soon as my feet hit the ground I step quickly to my left and spin around. As the soldier jumps over the wall I kick out with my leg, just like I’d seen Jerym do to the other boys who used to chase him. My foot connects with the soldier’s shins as he is coming down and knocks his legs out from under him. He spins in the air and crashes head-first to the ground. Not waiting to see if he is knocked out, I turn and run down the street, around a corner then finally into the street where my house is. Where Mother and Rehana should be.

  I run, exhausted, to the door. But there is no door here, just another opening in the wall. Holding my breath, I walk through into the remains of my home.

  It is all in ruins. The door is lying on the floor and the room beyond looks like a wild firestorm has blown through it. Most of what I see is ash, nothing is left whole. Sticking out from the rubble are a few remains of things that used to be – the handle of a pot Mother used to cook with, a piece of the table where we ate our meals, and a charred leg from the chair where, when I was younger, my father used to read to me. It reminds me of the good times my family had here, and of Father before he left to offer himself to the defence of Tolos.

  Even though the air is rank with smoke, I can still sense the faint aroma of Mother’s pumpkin and bean soup. It was her favourite meal to cook – because it was so easy, she always said.

  “Mother?” I call out, but not too loudly, so as not to be heard outside. “Rehana?” I’m growing scared for them. Where are they?

  Nobody answers me. I walk towards the door to the bedrooms, the remains of my childhood crunching under my feet. Just in front of me I see, half-buried under the debris, Rehana’s favourite doll. I pick it up and hold it close. It hasn’t escaped unscathed – it is badly singed and one of the eyes is missing. But it is still here. It gives me hope that maybe Mother and Rehana are still alive.

  I take a breath before I open the door to the bedrooms. Not bearing to think of what I will find, I wonder instead how this door has survived destruction. Slowly I push it open. In the room where my parents sleep there is only more rubble. Even the bed has been reduced to nothing more than a few smouldering wooden posts and ashes. A shaft of light illuminates the room from where part of the roof has caved in. Than
kfully, nobody is here. I start to make my way through the room towards the door to my bedroom.

  But then I see them. Lying amongst the ashes, covered in soot and ashen debris, my mother is hugging Rehana. They are both dead.

  The tears fall from my eyes in streams and I crumple to the ground beside them. I want to cry out in my grief, but I dare not – I can’t attract the attention of the Peace Bringers. So I whimper, my body wracked with grief and my shoulders shuddering with each sob.

  “Mother,” the anguished word escapes my lips. “Rehana.”

  She looks so tiny lying there, cuddled into my mother’s arms. She had only just celebrated her second birthday – how could she be dead already? I remember when she had been born. I was fourteen and thought I could do just as good a job as Mother in raising her. But I will never have that chance now.

  I put Rehana’s doll in her arms and a fresh flood of tears fall down my cheeks. Sa-Sa she used to call it. Rehana could not say my full name, so she called me Sa-Sa, and she named the doll after me. It’s not fair! I want to wail and rage and scream – but I can’t. Instead, I rock back and forth on my knees and punch my legs with my fists. It’s not fair!

  Suddenly there is the sound of footsteps from the other room. My head whirls around and a Peace Bringer appears in the doorway. It is the same one who chased me from the town square, and he has a large purple bruise on his forehead.

  “Nowhere to run now, is there girl?” he says.

  He lunges at me, but I jump back, just out of his reach.

  “Come here,” he growls at me. “I won’t bite you,” he adds with a hideous cackle.

  With his bulk between me and the door, there is no way I can get past him. Behind me are the other sleeping rooms but I don’t know if they have remained intact. The only way out is through the hole where part of the roof has collapsed.

  The soldier moves slowly towards me, his arms held out to either side, ready to grab me if I try and run. I fake a movement to my left and he moves to catch me, but then I run the other direction. When I’m almost at the wall I jump up, kick my right foot off the wall to propel me higher, then reach my hands up through the hole in the roof. I grab hold of the tiles and pull myself up as quickly as I can. My stomach is on the roof and I try to bring my legs up but then the soldier’s hand grabs hold of my foot. I grope for a hold on the tiles, but he is too strong and pulls me back. I slide down, trying to find another handhold, but there is none. In desperation, I kick down with my free leg with all my strength. My foot connects with his face, but he doesn’t let go. I kick out again, and this time he cries out and releases my foot.