Steel and Sorrow (59 page)

As the sun rose higher, Elyse saw that Captain Samhan’s new estimate of two hundred thousand men made more sense. A wave of nausea hit her as she thought about the death that would come because of the impending clash.

Kaz scanned the opposition next to her with a spyglass. She couldn’t imagine what he must be thinking. She had asked him to save her kingdom once already, and it looked as though she would have to ask him to do it again. He hadn’t said more than five words as they traveled through the night, and most of them had been single syllables.

He wanted to talk to me about regaining his memory in private. And rather than grant that simple request, I bring him to this.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked.

“Jeldor better not dally with the rest of the army,” Kaz said without dropping the spyglass. A sudden gasp came from his mouth as he froze. “It can’t be,” he whispered. “It’s impossible.”

“What? What is it?”

He lowered the tube and shook his head in disbelief. He handed it to her and pointed. “There.”

She looked through the spyglass and saw several thousand warriors dressed in menacing gray and blue armor. They stood out not only because of the quality of their attire and the manner in which they carried themselves, but also because each warrior’s skin was as black as Kaz’s. Her mouth hung open as she lowered the tube.

“Are they . . .” she started to ask.

“Yes. They are from my homeland. A continent called Hesh, though I have no idea where it’s located. Before your brother found me, I acted as warleader of my father’s army and commanded those men. The ones you’re looking at are Kifzo, an elite force, trained since boyhood for war,” said Kaz. He turned to Elyse. “I don’t have all my memories back yet, but I do recall a great deal.” He looked back out toward that group.

Elyse blinked. “Can you get word to those you once commanded?” she asked. “Perhaps you can persuade them to join us or at least remove themselves from Thurum’s forces.”

“It’s possible. But I wouldn’t know who to send word to. I do not see my father nor others I thought may have taken my place. I don’t know who commands them or why they’re here. My father wanted to bring all of Hesh under his rule. We never even knew about these lands.”

“That’s because your father wasn’t the visionary that I am,” said a mysterious voice that seemed to call out from all directions.

Everyone on the wall looked around, unable to find the source of the strange voice.

“Down here, Kaz.”

“Nachun?” said Kaz, voice full of both anger and confusion.

“One of my names,” said the voice.

A chill crawled up Elyse’s back.

No.

She raised the spyglass and honed in on the figure standing a hundred yards away. She saw dark red robes, like those of a High Mage, except with small blue designs embroidered throughout. Elyse held her breath as she focused on the man’s face. In a shimmer, his skin lightened and his bone structure changed. The spyglass fell from her hands and shattered against the stone merlons.

“Nareash,” she whispered.

“Yes, Elyse. I’ve come back for what you took from me.”

Her stomach dropped.

The scepter.

He presented his back to the fortress and walked back to the enemy’s camp. Her eyes widened as she watched the massing army grow in size.

Epilogue

As twilight bathed the swamp in a metallic gray, a Marsh Clan warrior bowed. “This is the last one.”

Mawkuk stared out at the men, women, and children discovered as spies from the Blue Island Clan. They kneeled on the soft ground of the swamp, heads hung low. Behind them burned a massive bonfire—its flames rising thirty feet into the air. “How many in total?”

“One hundred and twelve.”

Mawkuk leaned forward. “Are you sure that none have been missed?”

“I swear it on my life.”

Mawkuk stood to address the thousands of citizens who called Cypronya home. Some joined him on the ground while others gazed down from suspension bridges and lower level buildings in the trees. He nodded to a shaman next to him. “My people,” he started, voice amplified by sorcery, “we have been wronged in more ways than I can count. Tobin has used our warriors while ensuring we received none of the glory that comes with victory. I take full responsibility for that as I let the love of my children get the better of me—the very children that Tobin defiled and murdered.”

He hung his head and fought back tears. “I will not throw away the second chance you’ve given me to restore our clan’s pride. I have nothing left but all of you, and I will die before I give in to that tyrant!” He paused. “The past year’s campaign caused the Blue Island Clan to suffer heavy losses and on top of that, much of their army is still trying to bring peace to the territories of the Red Mountain and Green Forest Clans. We know that Nachun has set sail on some strange mission with more than four thousand of their Kifzo. Some speculate those men are likely lost forever. This is our chance to exact revenge!

“Durahn has agreed to our terms. He’s raised an army of his own and will stand with us against Tobin. We just received word that the alliance with him has convinced the survivors of the Yellow Plain Clan army to take up arms against the Blue Island Clan as well. Yesterday we were all enemies and tomorrow we may be enemies again, but today we will stand as one to bring down the Blue Island Clan!” He pointed to the spies. “Give them to the flames.” Soldiers dragged men, women, and children into the blazing bonfire without hesitation. Their chilling screams sought to drown out his voice. He shouted louder. “All of Juanoq will burn because of what they’ve done to us!”

The swamp came to life as the roars of his people sent wildlife running for cover.

They shouted his name as one. “Mawkuk!”

Thank you for reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a rating or review at the site of purchase as well as other places such as Goodreads and Librarything. Like many other indie authors, I do not have a marketing team working for me and a positive review (even if only a couple of sentences long) can go a long way in enticing others to give my works a try.

Thanks again for your support.

Joshua P. Simon

About the Author

Unlike most authors, Joshua did not immerse himself into the world of books as a child. After finishing graduate school, he quickly made up for lost time by buying and devouring countless graphic novels. Remembering his love of the original Conan movies, he moved on to the fantasy genre with the compilations of Robert E. Howard. He was hooked.

Since then, he has moved on to other authors such as Glen Cook, Joe Abercrombie, George R.R. Martin, Steven Erikson, Paul Kearney, Steven Brust, Peter V. Brett, Patrick Rothfuss and many more.

Joshua was inspired to write and create his own fantasy world after reading Glen Cook’s Black Company series. Thanks to a vivid imagination, he soon found himself with more ideas than he knew what to do with. After some prompting by his wife, he took the plunge.

When not writing, Joshua lives a life devoted to God and spends time with his beautiful family. He is employed as an accountant.

Excerpt of
Walk Through Fire - A Prequel Novella in the Blood and Tears Series

Prologue

Stepping off the ship and walking down the cluttered streets of Mudhole Bay had felt like entering a new world. Jonrell and his best friend, Cassus, tried to acclimate themselves to the rough way people behaved and the broken speech patterns of the grime-covered town. Yet, even after a change of clothes, they could not shake the mark of being outsiders.

Stares from the locals followed them wherever they looked for work.

Jonrell noticed Cassus nervously eyeing the passersby, his thick black hair bouncing with each swing of his head. “Wishing you would have stayed behind?” he asked.

“The thought had crossed my mind.” A fight broke out in the middle of the street and they skirted around the altercation. “High Mage Amcaro always told us the world was much different outside of Cadonia. I just never realized how different.”

“It’s not too late to turn back, you know?”

“Are you going back?”

Jonrell shook his head. “Not while my father lives.”

“Then neither am I.”

Jonrell pointed at a tavern up the street. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

They stumbled into The Orchid, assuming from the name it was a relatively reserved place. Within minutes after sitting at the bar, Jonrell learned that the worst of the worst frequented the bar—many taking issue with new arrivals.

Three men approached them and Jonrell knew there would be trouble. He tried to smooth things over by offering them drinks. But the men wanted more than a drink.

Jonrell looked them over and knew a fight could not be avoided. He jumped from his seat and went for the biggest man first, rocking his head back with a punch to the jaw. Cassus kicked another in the groin. The third got a shot in on Cassus, sending him to the ground. Jonrell took out the knee of the first man and then subdued the third with a boot to the gut.

Cassus rubbed his jaw as Jonrell helped him to his feet. He pushed back his long auburn hair, feeling pretty good about himself and proud of Cassus for taking some initiative. But any reprieve Jonrell hoped they had earned was dashed by the heavy sounds of thudding boots against the raised wooden floor.

Five men headed their way and four held drawn swords. The fifth was huge, older, and carried himself with a hardness that Jonrell had never seen before. The man needed no sword to be taken seriously. Right away Jonrell knew him as the leader of the group. Expecting more trouble, Cassus drew his own sword and took a step back. The others stopped and readied themselves.

Jonrell stood his ground, unmoving, as the leader raised a hand, signaling his men to stand down.

“Why haven’t you drawn your sword as well?” asked the big man.

“You have the look of a man who’s interested in talking, not killing.” Jonrell noticed the attire of the five standing before him matched the three who groaned on the floor.
Blood red.

The big man grinned wide and nodded. “Why don’t you tell your friend to put away his weapon so we can talk?”

“Only after your men do the same,” said Cassus over Jonrell’s shoulder.

The leader shrugged and gave the command to his men. Even with weapons put away, the tension lingered in the air. Jonrell and the leader stared unwavering into each other’s eyes, neither willing to break away first. The man smiled again as if Jonrell had passed some test. He extended his hand. “My name is Ronav. You took out three of my men.”

Jonrell hesitated then extended his own. “We weren’t looking for a fight, but they wouldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Ronav laughed. “I bet they didn’t. Few of my men would.”

Jonrell didn’t know what to say to that.

“New to Slum Isle then?”

Jonrell nodded. “Looking for work. We thought we’d try Mudhole Bay first.”

“Then you’re in luck,” said Ronav, grinning wider. “I’ve got a proposition for you two.”

Chapter 1

…Two years later.

Jonrell, like any other soldier, hated to wait. As a captain in the mercenary Hell Patrol, he filled the time between assignments by drilling his men and pitching in where needed. Even in an encampment of thousands, time seemed to slow as soldiers crept into their routines.

Messengers rode out days ago with terms to offer the other side. When the riders returned, Jonrell expected his next set of orders. He knew he should be thankful for the break since at any moment, everything could change, but the sitting around made him restless. He rose to his feet, stretching the stiffness from his limbs.

“You’re leaving now? I’m just about to start up a game of dice.”

“Then you should be happy I’m leaving. That’s one less person to take your money.”

Raker scowled and spat. He wiped the tobacco juices from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was ready to give you some company but after that, I’ve changed my mind.”

“When have you ever passed up a chance to cheat someone out of their pay?”

Raker shook his head. “Go on and get out of here. The last thing I need is your sour mood affecting my luck.”

Jonrell left the army’s encampment in the hot afternoon and within minutes headed into the ruins of an ancient city, its name long forgotten.
Another victim of the great earthquake
, he thought.

Battered walls crumbled as weeds pushed through the cracks and mortar. Gaping holes in the earth had split some buildings in two, while trees sprouted through the collapsed roofs of others. Coming across several dry wells Jonrell imagined the citizens of the land suffering through the aftermath of such a disaster, betrayed by the man sworn to protect them.

He shook his head thinking about what it must have been like during those dark times that still lingered even now.
“The worst trials of our lives will be what define us. A man must not forget himself or his ideals, lest he become a husk of who he once was.”

Another of High Mage Amcaro’s words of wisdom Jonrell learned long ago.
Why did Aurnon the Second turn his back on his people? He should have embraced them.

Jonrell brooded. He weaved between the broken buildings and cluttered alleys of a distant past, wondering if the lost souls of the ancient civilization questioned their decisions as he so often did.

Am I an empty husk of the man I once was?

Hours passed as the evening’s red sky turned a leaden gray. A warm breeze danced across the windswept city, brushing aside his long auburn hair.

I better head back to camp before dinner is gone.

He rounded the corner of a building when a high-pitched squeal followed by a slur of deep-throated curses stopped him. His hand went to the sword at his waist. Drawing the blade, he ran around the half-standing walls on his right to the sounds of debris falling and coarse yelling. He darted into a narrow alley.