Path of the Stonebreaker

Chapter 82

One Step Closer

The torches of Twin Garde appeared, twinkling in the distance like a single dancing candle. The wind rushed past as Ardy’s rig glided along the ice. Ardy felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter. There was no way of knowing if those were rak torches or not. He thought back to the dust falling from the rafters as grenadiers explosions rang outside. His dash across the Twin Garde yard to the docks.

“Ain’t no hope in hell, I’m gonna bring you right to the docks,” Ardy called back, “that’s as good as driving this rig right off the side of the icesheet.”

“You can land us a half mile from the keep,” Misandrei shouted back over the wind, then quieter to her companions. “From what I gathered at Urundock, this outpost has a timber wall and battlements. The main two defensive structures within the walls are towers of stone. Neither should impede us much.”

Ardy doubted either tower survived the rak assault. He remembered the wind pulling him away from Twin Garde. Watching in terror as the tops of those towers were lit up like bonfires. This is a fool’s errand. Daegan was doubtlessly dead. Not for the first time on the trip, Ardy considered leaving the Reldoni as soon as they disembarked. It wasn’t as though they could follow him back to Urundock. And he would have plenty of time to make his way to Edas, find work on sea charter and leave all of this mess behind him… But then he wouldn’t get paid. Fifty marks was no small chunk of silver. Ardy could live on that for months.

“Jaz, you can light up those walls?” Misandrei asked the sweaty youth. Ardy had been surprised by him, most southerners couldn’t hack the cold. They wrapped up in layers of furs and wools, and moaned about the frigid winds. Ardy had not seen the young Reldoni man wear anything heavier than a linen tunic

“I can,” Jaz replied, confidently. “All this heat has to go somewhere.” If it were not for the pulses of coral light that emitted from the man’s skin, Ardy would’ve suspected he was feverish and refused him entry on the raft. But this was something else. This was some kind of runewielding nonsense that Ardy wanted no part of. Don’t fuck with runewielding.

“Good,” Misandrei said, “I want any defenders on that wall choking in smoke before we get anywhere close. When those walls are more ash than wood, you’re to join Endrin. I want you both to stay to the rear on ranged support. Endrin, I want you to blast them with stonespears until we reach the towers. Then I want you to make us a door. Loreli and I will be the vanguard. With our stormstone affinities, we’re a lot faster than the rest of you.”

“Where do you want me?” Ferath asked.

“You’ve eradite affinity, so you’re with Endrin on ranged attacks. You’re to defer to his authority.”

“He’s lower rank than me,” Ferath balked.

“But he has control of his abilities,” Misandrei retorted. “You do not. You’re also still injured, and to be frank, Ferath, I do not trust your judgement. So you will defer to Endrin for this assault, am I clear?” There was a tense pause from the group as palpable as the winds buffeting them.

“You have been operating solo for some time, Ferath,” Misandrei continued, “I need to know if you can still work as part of a team. Otherwise you will be too much of a risk on this mission.”

“Daegan and Shrydans are mine,” Ferath hissed, “you cannot take that from me.”

“I understand that you are bitter bu—”

“Bitter?” He spat, “I am not bitter. Daegan has shot me fucking twice! The Shrydans have been a thorn in my side this entire mission. I am not bitter, I am resolved. This is my mission.”

“That you failed,” Misandrei cut him off sternly, “twice, as you so eloquently pointed out for us.”

“We are here because you failed to kill a cripple. Now we have to clean up your mess. So you will obey your orders, and defer to Endrin’s judgement, am I clear?”

Ferath’s jaw was tense. If Ardy’s edir senses had been sharp enough he would’ve detected Ferath’s flaring out from him in petulant bursts. However Ardy’s edir was a rusty tool, long since discarded to the back of the toolshed.

“I understand,” Ferath glowered at Endrin.

“Good. If our Aeth friend is correct, then we will have a war party of rakmen to deal with beyond those walls. There is only four of us, but we are bloodshedders.”

Oh bloodshedders. Such a big scary name. Ardy scoffed, earning him an angry glare from Misandrei. Ardy quickly averted his gaze as if he hadn’t been listening and coughed as though he had something in his throat.

Soldiers and their dramatic titles.

They were worse than the Elders at Evier. Ardy’s own brother had been granted the title of ‘First Whisperer of the Winds’ which Ardy had teased him for relentlessly. “Why don’t you go gossip about it to the breeze,” had been the last thing Ardy had ever said to his brother. Ninety years ago… He didn’t think about Varestyn often. His brother had looked so pitifully hurt when he’d caught Ardy, rucksack on his back, skulking away from their home. Varestyn would likely weep if he knew what Ardy was doing. Leading a bunch of self-proclaimed ‘bloodshedders’ to do their bloody work. Probably babble something about the sanctity of life and the soul or some shit.

***

Tanlor made his way in a crouched run along the cages. He wasn’t surprised at the pain in his legs at the action. He’d spent the past six days in a cage with no room to move around. The skin on his legs was still raw, and the material of his breeches chafed against his burns with every movement.

“Wake up,” Tanlor hissed into the cage with the Rubanian soldiers, “And stay quiet.” He immediately set to work on dissolving the metal lock of the cage. Yaref, the grey-haired healer, was the first on his feet, his eyes wide in surprise. The other two followed him quickly, each looking to Tanlor with hopeful faces.

“How did you get free?” Yaref whispered.

“We’re not free yet,” Tanlor replied in an equally hushed tone, “give me a few minutes to dissolve this lock.”

“You’ve got eradite?” One of the others asked, he had a raw scabbing wound under his eye.

“Either of you a stonebreaker?” Tanlor asked.

“I am,” the wounded man replied, “name’s Tar. Puck’s a grenadier,” he nodded to the other soldier. “And Yaref’s a healer.”

“I’m sure Mr. Shrydan remembers me,” Yaref said.

“Here,” Tanlor reached his hand into the bars to Tar, “take this. You can probably work on this lock a lot faster than me.” He dropped the dimly glowing eradite into Tar’s hand.

“You’re really like him, aren’t you?” Tar asked, getting to work on the lock, “yer da, I mean, I’m named after him, Taran, yer da. You’re a hero like him aren’t you, you’re going to get us out of this.”

“If you stop blathering and break that lock, he will, yes?” Yaref slapped the younger man on the back of the head.

“I’ve only got the one topaz, which I’ll hold onto for now,” Tanlor said to Puck, pointedly ignoring Tar’s comments about his father. “If we come across another, it's yours. Are you lads able to fight, if we need to?”

“Aye,” Yaref replied, and the other two were nodding, “but we’ve got no weapons.”

“Daegan is sorting that.”

***

Daegan grinned as he pulled open a sack of thick cloth. Inside were small grenadier-pouches. Each of them was prefilled with a measure of gunpowder. Like most grenadier-pouches these were dyed with a red band to denote the explosive material inside. Daegan hoisted the entire sack over his shoulder. There were easily a dozen pouches in it. He already had two swords and a pair of hatchets tucked under his arm. The grenadier-pouches coupled with the topaz they already had would be a major benefit.

He had been expecting more from the weapons rack, but it seemed that most of the rak preferred to keep their weapons on them. These were just spares looted from the bodies of the soldiers. The swords and hatchets were also smaller than typical rak weapons which closer resembled greatswords and battleaxes in size.

The weapon rack was situated only a few feet up from where the cages were, and was conveniently as poorly lit. Daegan glanced up at the sentries on the wooden walls again. There were only eight of them—at both his and Tanlor’s count. None of them seemed to be monitoring the inside of the keep. He looked over at the two campfires where the rest of the rak were sleeping.

Daegan would need to pass under the light of one the torches to make it back to the cages. He didn’t want the metal of any of the blades catching the light and pulling the attention of the sentries but he had little choice. As quickly as he could and without making the weapons rattle, Daegan shuffled along the wall. He passed into the light of the torch. His heart leapt with adrenaline as he did so despite no horns being sounded. He kept his pace, moving towards the end cage where he could see the dark shape of Tanlor huddled at the door.

“I got these,” Daegan said in a low voice when he reached them. He carefully laid the swords and hatchets quietly on to the frost covered ground.

“No greatswords?” Tanlor asked.

“Afraid not.”

“This’ll do so,” he picked up one of the swords, “it’ll kill a rak bastard all the same.”

Tanlor quickly introduced Puck and Tar as the grenadier and stonebreaker. Tar was still working on dissolving the cage lock.

“Can I have that other sword? I’m not too bad with one,” Puck asked and Daegan handed it to him.

“I’ve also got about a dozen pouches for you,” Daegan grinned.

“Really?” Tanlor's eyes widened in surprise. He then turned back to Puck, “here, you’ll be more effective with this than me so.” Tanlor proffered the topaz through the bars which Puck accepted. Breathing a sigh of relief as he grasped the runestone. Daegan guessed the topaz-wielder was not accustomed to feeling the natural cold.

“Just these left for us then,” Daegan offered one of the hatchets to Yaref who took it eagerly.

“I’d like to sink into one of those fucker’s skulls,” the healer divulged.

“Ok,” Daegan said with surprise, “I can get on board with the bloodthirsty attitude, I like the enthusiasm.” Daegan grinned at them, “you’ve gone over the plan, Tanlor?”

“I have,” Tanlor replied just as Tar finished with the lock, the door to the cage creaking noisily as it shifted.

“Well then, let’s get to it,” Daegan said.

***

Baroc’s ears twitched. He could hear the shuffling of feet approaching the radius of his chain. Usually only his handlers came within his reach, and they were normally armed with pikes or sticks to keep him in check. The rak he smelled approaching stank of the same watery broth that he was fed. He could also detect the adrenaline in their scent. He took a sharp sniff without opening his eyes. Restless… but eager.

Eager for blood.

He felt the fur on his back bristle in response to the presence. Two of the rak approached him. Hesitantly stepping close. His eyes snapped open and he gave the pair a low warning growl. He had expected the rak youths but to his surprise it was the small pale ones. Their skin looked bright in the torchlight. Like the face of the Red Moon.

Up close, he could smell the differences in them from the other rak. The one with yellow fur had the deep inherent scent of sulphur. Like the old chief had. Baroc had learned to recognise the scent as that of the rak shamans. Those that could conjure fire from nothing. They were the most dangerous. The other, the one with dark fur did not have the scent of a shaman about him. Both were pretty small for rak. There were three others further back keeping watch.

The pair closest to him began murmuring to each other in a tongue that Baroc could not understand. They seemed to be arguing about something. Baroc decided he didn’t like the way the shaman kept glancing at him, sword gripped in his hand. He rose from his sleeping position, holding the gaze of the shaman. Baroc’s growl was instinctual, despite what his handlers thought. As soon as he felt threatened it rumbled up from the depth of his throat.

The yellow sensed the hostility and the point of the blade was raised. Baroc didn’t like that. His lips peeled back showing his fangs. The dark one pulled the shaman back by the shoulder and hissed something in that strange language of theirs.

Baroc got the distinct impression that the shaman wanted to kill him. Although he wasn’t sure why. Sure, Baroc had killed the other pale rak that had run away but he had no animosity towards them. He only did it because his handlers would have beaten him if he didn’t. These ones had been caged too, surely they know this.

Then the dark-haired one stepped forward, within clawing distance. Baroc could smell the steely determination. He looked at the hatchet gripped in the rak’s hand.

“If I come closer do you promise not to kill me?” the rak asked in Old tongue.

***

Daegan’s heart pounded as he moved closer to the dogman. Dogman was in fact a very poor name for the creature now that Daegan could get a good look at it. Broad-shouldered and standing a foot taller than Daegan, the bipedal creature more closely resembled that of a mountain lion. His face was rounded, more similar to that of a cat, its nose bridge flatter than a dog’s. Its ears pointed out from tufts of fur. In the moonslight, the creature’s exposed fur was a silvery grey, streaked with black, like a tiger’s.

“If I come closer do you promise not to kill me?” Daegan asked hesitantly in Old Tongue. He could feel Tanlor’s disapproval as a palpable aura behind him. The dogman turned its head slightly at Daegan’s question and Daegan realised that it was foolish to assume this creature could speak the same language—If it could speak at all.

Then it gave Daegan a definitive nod.

“What is your name?” Daegan tried.

“Baroc,” the creature's voice was like a rumbling mountain. Its mouth was restrained in a muzzle but it could still get the words out.

“If I free you, Baroc,” Daegan offered, “do you promise not to kill us?”

“Free,” Baroc mused on the word, “Why would rak scum help Baroc?”

“We’re not rak. We’re men… humans. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Smell like rak… look like rak. Rak lies.”

“We’re smaller,” Daegan tried, “and look our skin, it’s different.” He gestured to his face.

“You see me,” Baroc replied cryptically, “You see another like me with different colour fur. Is not same?” Daegan had to admit that the dogman had a point there. The fact that Daegan had thought of the beast as something akin of a dog or a lion was evidence of that.

“We’re not the same,” Daegan implored, he took a step closer to Baroc. Dropping the hatchet and raising open palms.

“We just want to get away from here, away from these rak.” Daegan pleaded, “I think you do too.” Baroc was quiet then for a moment. Watching Daegan with large round eyes. The light of the torches danced in them as the creature held Daegan’s gaze.

“Shaman wants to kill Baroc,” Baroc said, and gestured towards Tanlor with a point of his nose. He’s not wrong there.

“My friend thinks you will kill us,” Daegan said honestly, “I’m hoping that you won’t.”

“Shaman could kill Baroc now. While Baroc is chained.”

“Yes,” Daegan nodded.

“But you won’t let him. You are chief.”

“Yes,” Daegan said.

“If Baroc is free. What will chief want? Baroc has no wish to be slave again. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

“I promise you that you won’t. If I set you free, will you help us fight these rak and escape with us? After that, you are a free… uh,” Daegan had no idea how to finish that sentence as he didn’t want to offend Baroc by calling him a dogman. “You will be free.” Daegan concluded.

A horn echoed loudly.

Three harsh blasts interrupting the conversation. Daegan’s eyes widened.

***

Even being soulforged, Jaz could not create heat out of nothing. Everything must be drawn from another heat source. His body could now draw upon and target that heat far faster, and on a much greater scale than ever before.

To burn the walls, he’d needed first to set some of the trees around Twin Garde alight. It was not so easy to do when everything was covered in snow. Blasting them with his excess heat would only serve to melt the ice. Most of it would plume in steam but not enough would evaporate, and the meltwater would douse any embers that took to the trees.

To truly get a blaze going, one strong enough as a source to pull on to burn those walls, Jaz would something more effective than regular fuel. Which he had. Slung over Jaz’s shoulder were ten wineskins. And all of them were full of dragons-oil. It was too risky to attempt getting the dragon-oil close to the walls. Instead he poured it around a copse of trees in sight of the wall.

He moved quietly and slowly, hoping to avoid the detection from the sentries on the walls. Misandrei and Loreli were close by, taking down any scouts that were patrolling the woods. Once he ignited the dragon-oil the trees would be quickly aflame. It would burn fast and quick enough that Jaz would be able to funnel the heat towards the walls.

Then, once his fire had spread enough it would become sustainable for him to draw on it, and accelerate the spreading. That much fire, he could syphon off heat and centralise it to focus points and have parts of the wall reduced to cinders in minutes.

The key problem was that it would take a few minutes for the heat of dragon-oil fire to burn enough for him to use effectively. That meant a few minutes of a giant fire burning a few yards from the keep walls. Needless to say, that would quickly draw the attention of the defenders. As soon as Jaz got this going, they would need to work quickly.

Endrin would need to start taking down sentries on the walls. The defenders would be quick to re-man them, and they could expect arrows to rain down on them. Jaz would need to work very quickly for this plan to succeed.

Sweat dripped from Jaz’s chin as he poured the last wineskin. The heat in him was now desperate for release. He restrained, holding in his edir as tightly as a scared child clutching a parent’s hand. He whistled one of the bloodshedder’s bird calls, indicating he was ready. Misandrei had said it was a risk, that the rak may react to the unfamiliar whistle. But everything would be happening so quickly now anyway that it was worth the risk.

He heard a whistle in response. It was the go-ahead from Misandrei. They were all in position.

The heat poured out of Jaz and flames erupted on the trees.

***

A horn echoed loudly.

Three harsh blasts. And Daegan’s eyes widened. His head bolted towards the sentries on the battlements, expecting bows to be drawn in their direction. But they weren’t, all the rak on the walls were facing away. One was fired off the wall, a spear rammed into his chest. Another spear struck another, sending a rak hurtling off the wall. Someone was attacking Twin Garde.

Daegan met Tanlor's eye.

“Duke’s men?” Daegan asked.

“No idea,” Tanlor shrugged, then he raised his sword, his attention pulled towards the campfires where the rakmen were jumping to their feet.

“Fuck,” Tanlor cursed, “they won’t be long spotting us. Time to make a decision,” he nodded to Baroc.

Daegan turned back to face the beastman. His facial expression was unreadable, his teeth were bared, but that could be a smile for all Daegan knew. Fuck it. He stepped close to Baroc, right within mauling range. He held up his hands in a calming gesture. Baroc held his gaze with a warning intensity.

Daegan placed his hands on the iron muzzle. It was a simple enough contraption, locked into place and connected to the collar. Daegan was hoping there was a simple clasp, something he could unpin easily. Looking down at Baroc’s hands, Daegan could see they were thick paws with large claws. He could grip a weapon, but delicate handwork would be beyond the beastman. Daegan hoped the rak had decided to use a… That’s it! His fingers found the locking pins. He twisted the pins and pulled them free.The collar and muzzle simultaneously clicked opened, tumbling to the ground.

For a brief moment, Daegan and Baroc simply stood watching eachother. Daegan’s heart pounded in his ears. The sounds of horns and the rushing movements of the rak were abound in the periphery of Daegan’s senses. Baroc’s eyes were locked on him. Oh fuck. The realisation that he’d just made a huge mistake rising up from the pit of his stomach.

“What are you doing?!” Daegan heard the rasping cry of a rak behind him. Daegan turned his head and saw rak holding a pike. It was the same pike that had been used to prod and beat Baroc. It was one of his handlers.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Daegan felt the rush of wind and the blur of black as Baroc charged past him. In three bounds, Baroc was on the handler. The pike was cast aside, Baroc’s huge form tackling the rak to the ground. The rak screamed as teeth sunk into flesh and claws ripped at muscle.

“Daegan!” He heard Tanlor’s voice pull him from the spectacle. Daegan looked to Tanlor and saw the group of four men gathered together with weapons raised. The battlements were aflame. Smoke filled the air and obscured the view of the keepyard. How did they burn so quickly? Flames lapped up the timber like they’d been doused in dragon-oil.

Daegan grabbed his dropped hatchet and rushed to Tanlor’s side.

“There must be an army of grenadiers out there,” Puck said with awe, “we’re saved!”

“I don’t think we should take the chance that whoever is on the other side is a saviour,” Tanlor replied. Daegan looked back to Baroc and saw that the beastman had already moved on from his handler, and was now mauling another rak defender.

The camp was in chaotic disarray. Rakmen had been rushing to the battlements, but now the fires deterred them, penning them back towards the towers.

“What do we do?” Yaref turned to Tanlor and Daegan. Tanlor glanced at Daegan with uncertainty. You guys are the soldiers here.

“We should use the confusion to slip away,” Daegan proposed, “we should try make for the docks. There might be an iceraft left.”

“Any of you lads know how to work one?” Tanlor asked the others.

“Aye, I used to do runs when I first got stationed here,” Puck said.

“Hey!” All heads turned to the rak advancing on them. It was a fully grown warrior, flanked by two youths; rak-Boern and another that Daegan didn’t recognise. The men reacted quickly, Tanlor dashing forward, sword raised. The rak warrior opened with a wide swing which Tanlor ducked under, attempting to step in close where his blade could do more damage. Puck jumped forward, his sword raised and pressed hard against the other rak youth. Puck had his grenadier pouches but Daegan figured the man didn’t want to draw the attention of the entire camp by using them just yet.

Despite being one of the youths, rak-Boern was still as tall as Daegan and wielded a thick heavy blade. He advanced towards Daegan. Yaref was already trying to flank the warrior that Tanlor was fighting and Tar was attempting to form a stone projectile. Oh shit. Daegan realised that he would have to deal with the oncoming rak.

He backstepped as rak-Boern took a swing at him. The tip of the blade brushed Daegan’s shirt and his adrenaline leapt up.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his hatchet.

Rak-Boern was off balance from his swing and Daegan’s boyhood training kicked in. He stepped forward bringing the hatchet down on the rak’s forearm. The blade didn’t break through the rawhide armour but it was enough to push the youth further off balance.

Daegan then followed up with a punch. His closed fist connected with rak-Boern’s face. He felt the nose break under his knuckle and carried his weight forward, pushing the rak back. Daegan then brought his hatchet down for a killing blow but rak-Boern recovered, bringing up his thick sword in defence. The hook of the hatchet caught on the blade and Daegan pushed down on the hilt, straining with all of his strength.

Daegan face twisted into snarl, baring his teeth at the rak. His opponent matched Daegan’s expression, his fierce blue eyes screaming anger and death at Daegan. The rak might’ve been stronger than him but Daegan was pushing down with all of his weight. He was slowly gaining ground and the rak knew it.

Rak-Boern twisted, pulling his blade free but the action exposed his side.

Daegan fell forward, but he planted a foot and swung his hatchet hard, sinking it into rak-Boern’s flank. The blade managed to cut through the rawhide and found flesh underneath.

Rak-Boern cried out, dropping his sword, and staggering forward, the hatchet still lodged in him. Daegan wasted no time, picking up the heavy blade in both hands. He kicked at rak-Boern’s rear, toppling him forward and drove the blade down into the rak’s back. There was gurgling gasp as his final breaths rasped.

He glanced around in time to see Tanlor reach up, the sword driving up through the rak warrior’s chin. Blue blood that looked black in the firelight poured out as the warrior slumped back. The other rak youth was already on the ground, Puck pulling his blade free.

The walls of the keep were completely ablaze. The din of smoke was growing thicker and shadowy shapes moved through the murky air. Daegan reached down and wrenched his hatchet free from the dead rak. He then pulled out the heavy rak blade. Stepping towards Tanlor, he offered the hilt to him.

“This will work as a greatsword?” Tanlor nodded and gave Daegan a shoulder pat of approval looking at rak-Boern’s dead body.

“Nice work,” Tanlor said, taking the large sword from Daegan.

“We’re not done yet,” Daegan replied then turned to the others. “To the docks!”