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  Garreth watched from his lofty perch as Novas pushed his way through the crowd, sword in hand, to reach his fellow allies who were marooned on the stage and surrounded by a sea of blood and violence. Garreth poised his focus on defending his son’s advance, sending arrows into those who would have delayed Novas. Soon, Behn, Eyrn, and the rest of the rebel forces had piled into the center of the Trade District and let the Queen’s Aegis flow into them from all sides. While the energy of the battle was chaotic and relentless, the rebels had their backs to each other and held their lines as well as they had trained in the courtyard. Novas found his chance to make his way onto the stage, and he took it. Three of the Queen’s Aegis now defended the stage, and they moved to intercept Novas and his plans.

  The first charged Novas with a few quick steps and brought his shining broadsword down towards Novas’ neck. With a quick step to the left, Novas dodged the strike and slammed his blade into the guard’s wrist, causing the guard to recoil and drop his blade. Novas secured his footing and slammed the pommel of his blade deep into the opening of the guard’s helmet, staggering him backwards and raising his chainmail neck to the sky. Novas let the weight of the sword fall and then wrenched it upwards again. A bloody blossom appeared where the chainmail links had been severed by the sword’s edge. The guard grasped at his neck as he fell to the floor of the stage and remained still.

  Before Novas could move to face his next attacker, the next guard plowed into his side and knocked him off his feet. The heavy gauntlet of the Queen’s Aegis soared down from above and met Novas’ temple as he turned from the ground, pushing him back down beside the slain guardsman. Novas would only ever remember the flash of white that faded black and red like running blood and was replaced by dazing and pain. Though Novas could not see, he could hear the painful grunt of the guard, the piercing of his thick armour, and the settling of a quivering arrow as the second of the Queen’s Aegis fell to the side. Novas rolled over and looked at the sky again. Even though he tried to focus his eyes, the world still swam before him. It appeared that three guards, each with their blades aloft, were about to skewer him to the stage for good. As the blade fell, it sank deep into the wooden stage only a hair width from Novas’ shoulder and nicked his flesh. The sharp pain focused Novas’ vision, and he stared up at the last guard whose eyes had just rolled back into his head where an arrow quivered.

  “Get up, you fool! Get up!” Garreth cried out from his rooftop position as Novas rolled around on stage in his daze.

  Over the chaos of the battle, Novas could hear no such commands but rose to his knees and finally made his way to Cern, Tamil, and the other condemned. As Novas untied their bonds, their eager faces met his eyes but soon turned to terror at the madness around them.

  “We’re getting you out of here. Follow me closely!” Novas shouted at them.

  Novas had not even cleared the stage before the final phase of the Blackwoods trap had begun. Now that the rebels were securely in the center of the pavilion, the true slaughter could begin. As they stood on the rooftops and appeared at many of the surrounding windows, the roguish Blackwoods primed their bows and began to sink volley after volley of arrows into the rebel mass. Garreth only had a split second to roll to his side as he dodged an arrow aimed for his back, which now quivered in the wood beside him. Another two archers sized Garreth up and bent back their bows. Garreth threw himself off the low roof and fell two stories to the cobblestone street below. With a grunt, he smacked the ground, got to his feet, and then rushed between vendor stalls to find his son.

  The Blackwoods trap was effective and ingenious, Garreth lamented. The Blackwoods had played upon their adversary’s empathy, for the rebels’ loyalty towards their fellow comrades made the condemned hostages the perfect bait. Luring their enemies into a ranged ambush was exactly how the rebels had won the battle at the courtyard, and now the tactic had been used against them. But Garreth had no time for regret, and he cast it off as he launched into the crowd with his sword in hand.

  “We must retreat! Fall back! Get to the Lower Quarter!” Garreth yelled aloud as he pushed through the crowd to retrieve his son.

  It pained him to push through the swath of bodies, for he was unable to help his comrades against the Queen’s Aegis, but there was no victory to be had against such an effective ambush. He had no clue if the rebels would retreat or if they could even hear him. All around him, the men and women of the rebellion screamed as they were flanked and surprised by the ruthless attack, but Garreth had to save his son, for he could not lose him in this most harrowing of battle. It was Tamil who that caught Garreth’s eye first, and he shouldered his way through the crowd, kicking aside Queen’s Aegis and ducking under arrows to get to his son. Garreth caught Novas by the shoulder, and Novas swung around his blade in a panic.

  “Come on. We’ve got to get clear of this slaughter,” his father yelled as he took up his blade in front of Novas and led the way.

  Garreth, Novas, and the prisoners had only made it just clear of the center of the pavilion before there was a shriek of pain. Cern’s shock of blonde hair whipped into the air as he dropped to his knees and clutched at his shoulder where an arrow stuck all the way through. Cern screamed in pain as Tamil dropped to his side and placed him over her shoulder, attempting to lift him.

  “Go! I can take him!” Tamil screamed out, pushing them away with her open hand.

  “No! I won’t leave you here. I can’t do that!” Novas yelled in response, another arrow nearly missing him as well.

  “Garreth! Go! Now!” Tamil yelled and urged them away.

  Garreth grabbed his son’s shoulder and pulled him away. Novas bit his lip and seethed with anger. The two hunters continued their escape from the terror of the Trade District. They made their way into the Lower Quarter, and Novas looked down at the citizens who had been caught in the crossfire where arrows pointed skyward from streetside corpses. Other denizens watched down from windows in horror as the whole city seemed to empty into the streets and alleyways that led to the southern gate. The two made their way to the southern intersection and wished to turn down towards the western street towards the Salty Dog but in their way was a terrible blockade. The dark-garbed Blackwoods, no longer prisoners of the shadow, were assaulting the people of the Lower Quarter in great numbers. Their gangs of thugs robbed the streetside vendors, stripped of people of their valuables, and cut down any who resisted. As there were so many, Garreth feared he could not protect his injured son in an outnumbered encounter, so they continued southward out of the city.

  The scene outside the city’s southern gates was just as terrible because the Blackwoods terrorized the fleeing citizens, damaged the makeshift vendor stands, spooked the stabled horses, and broke the wheels of the wagons beyond repair. Garreth and Novas felled some of the bandits as they made their way away from the city gates but did not stop for a confrontation. They had almost made their way onto the Great South Road before a familiar voice called out to them from nearby.

  “Novas! Garreth!” Kayten shouted as she fended off a group of Blackwoods in front of a horse-drawn wagon.

  With her sword and shield in hand, she lunged out at the posse of six Blackwoods that had surrounded her but was careful not to be surrounded. Novas and Garreth sprinted over, running their blades through two of the surrounding Blackwoods by surprise. The rest retreated at the sight of the warriors who were still bloodied from the previous battle, and Kayten lifted herself onto the cart and gave her outstretched hand.

  “Good fellow! Go now, fast as you can. To Southbriar!” Kayten commanded after Garreth and Novas climbed aboard.

  The thin-bearded cartsman held onto his straw hat and whipped the horses into motion. The driver had little care for the other wayfarers, nor did the travellers care for him, for they were caught up in their own escapes and dove to the side of the road to avoid the cart’s hasty retreat.

  “What happened?” Kayten demanded.

  She looked back upon the walls of A
matharsus as they shrunk in the distance. Shadowy silhouettes of frightened denizens screamed across the wall and were lit by the fires of the vendor stalls going up in flames. She stared at Novas, who glared upon his shaking hands. Kayten met Garreth’s eyes before he looked back towards the city.

  “We were defeated,” Garreth stated as he cracked his knuckles under the fiery sky.

  Act Five

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The sun burned low as Garreth leaned against the outer wall of Kayten’s smithy and watched the travellers in exodus as they fled from the capital and down the Great South Road. Very few people had left the upheaval unscathed. While some had time to bandage their cuts and sponge at their bruises, others still fled stiff and bleeding, unwilling to stop until they felt safe again. The carriages and wagons fared little better, for their terrified horses were barely under the control of their masters. There was a scarce amount of carts that did not share some form of damage like cracks in their wheels, splintered frames, or entire sides burnt to ash.

  Garreth watched from across the street as Jorge the Innkeeper tried to flag down weary travellers to rest for a spell, waving a worn cloth and offering them food and shelter. Most did not stop to take him up on his offer, for they were still shaken from losing the basic liberty of safety within their homes. The refugees were headed anywhere but the place of their trauma, trying desperately to regain a sanctuary for themselves. The innkeeper relented after a time. Once the sun went down, he lit the Broken Kettle’s outer torches and wandered across the road, approaching Garreth with a furrowed brow and an easy smile.

  “Aye remember yee traveller. Not only because what yee did but what followed after it,” Jorge explained as stood near to Garreth.

  “Is that so?” Garreth spoke.

  “Yee were headed to Amatharsus to investigate the Blackwoods, were yee not? And after the great thrashing yee gave them here, ‘ee could only assume yee were serious about the job,” the innkeeper explained.

  “Yes. We were all serious about the Blackwoods. Serious was all we ever could be,” Garreth replied.

  Noticing Garreth’s dejected behaviour, Jorge frowned but continued.

  “But yee also gave the people hope. Aye can recall at least three travellers who were headed to the capital to lend their aid. They regaled me with tales of the rebels who faced off against the Blackwoods and put them to the blade and the bow. They explained, like the tales they were telling, that word had travelled each way and brought more valiant hearts from around Malquia to end the business of the Blackwoods. Yee must have been involved in that, no? If not in the fighting, then at least in the telling of such deeds,” Jorge explained.

  “I was involved, yes. But all our efforts were for naught. I have failed the people, and Amatharsus has been cast into darkness just as black as the days following the King’s death,” Garreth spoke before his teeth grit.

  “That may be true. But let me ask, were yee the first to stand against them? And will yee be the last? The fate of Amatharsus does not rest upon yer shoulders alone, and perhaps yee have only failed yerself,” Jorge explained as he clapped a light hand upon Garreth’s shoulder and met his eyes with the same easy smile.

  Garreth nodded but did not reply. Instead, he looked to the first stars that peered out above the last lights of golden sundown.

  “Well, there’s an ale with yer name on it, if yee wish. Be seeing yee,” Jorge said with a nod before he turned and walked across the road.

  Garreth turned away a while later and entered the smithy where Novas and Kayten were sitting around the fire. The residence of the smithy was a measure smaller than the cabin in the woods but larger than the common room at the Salty Dog. Against the wall opposite to the door, there was a worn worktable that was buffed shiny and notched thoroughly from labours. On the adjacent walls, two single beds lay. In the corner beside the front door, there was a fireplace with room for cookery. On the wall, there was a selection of antique smithing tools, gilded horseshoes, and some ceremonial weapons. Kayten sat upon her bed with her legs crossed and looked towards the fire. Novas lay stretched out on the floor and glanced towards his father as he entered.

  “The escape has concluded for now, I’d imagine,” Garreth explained as he undid his cloak and tossed it over a chair.

  “No one you recognized?” Novas questioned.

  “They would be here if I did,” Garreth explained.

  “Do not despair. We know so little. I am sure our allies would have seen the desperate nature of the attack and would have fled sooner,” Kayten remarked.

  “Let us rest. Today has drained our spirits to their barest limit. If Jorge is any sort of gossip that he claims to be, he will have some news for us on the morrow,” Kayten continued as she leaned back and lay across her bed.

  “Very well. Till tomorrow then,” Garreth remarked and fell down across the other bed.

  “Mhm,” Novas mumbled as he doused the flames and then sprawled across the floor between the two, wrapping himself in his cloak and some thin sheets.

  Regardless of the newfound silence that they all had found since leaving the ambience of the unsleeping city, each of them were visited by reflections of the previous day. The heat of the flames and the fires of battle, the moans of agony and shouts of pain, and the twisted visages of misery and terror seemed to leap from the darkness of their closed eyes.

  Novas was the first to awake the next morning when the stream of sunlight beamed through the window and set upon his resting face. He rolled to his side to block out the light, but his consciousness sprang into action and made returning to sleep impossible. Brief recollections of visions in the night ran through his mind in those waking moments. The worst of all saw Cern receive his crippling blow over and over again, Tamil stop to assist her ally, and Novas stand unable to save them as they were swallowed up by the steel tide of war and dragged back into that bloody sea. Novas sat up and gasped for air, breathing in vacuous amounts as his vision began to align again. Never, even in his costly fight with Khern, had a battle burned him this deep. The injuries were not only physical but left a scar on his thoughts, for he had failed in his beliefs, and he had failed to protect his allies. Novas grit his teeth and pulled and smoothed his hair. As he looked around the room, both Garreth and Kayten had their backs to him and still appeared to be sleeping. A shadow at the window brought Novas’ attention upwards. Three firm knocks rang out.

  Novas had no inkling of who the visitor could be as he rolled onto his feet and picked up his sword. He would take no chances today as he drew back the blade, priming for a swift lunge. With his other hand, Novas tossed open the door and was met with a particularly gleaming sight. The silhouette of the rising sun behind him obscured the identity of the visitor, but the polished nature of the light brown and gold laced overcoat gave Novas a clue to who it was even before they had spoken.

  “Whoa there, master ranger. I am no foe,” the man stated as he raised his hands in surrender.

  As the stranger stepped forward into the shade of the smithy, Garreth sat up to identify the man.

  “Ah, Lord Cross. Unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. Come in,” Garreth explained as he swung his legs out of bed and stood to greet the man.

  “My thanks,” Lord Cross offered as he shook Garreth’s hand and took a chair.

  Kayten rose after, and they all sat in a circle around the center of the tiny residence.

  “I am glad to have found you here, you three. If you were not here, then my pursuit would have been in vain. Garreth! You have never revealed the location of your forest home, yet I would still have to go searching for it. Time is of the essence though, and your location plays to our advantage indeed,” Lord Cross explained.

  “Advantage? What are you on about?” Garreth questioned with a yawn.

  “Things are unwell in the capital as you could have guessed. With no hands of righteous action in the Lower Quarter, the Blackwoods have the people in their grips of tyranny once again, forci
ng the residents that remain into destitution. With the black-garbed thugs on the streets night and day, no trade can be made of any sort. There is nothing left to keep them from strangling what life that remains. As long as the Queen’s Aegis gets a cut, they do nothing to address the outcry of the citizenry. After the expulsion of the rebels yesterday, even the Upper Quarter saw its share of looting and thievery. Were it not for our fortified domiciles or lofty bribes to the Aegis, the Upper Quarter would be reduced to anarchy as well,” Lord Cross explained.

  “Is there no form of resistance at all left in the city?” Garreth dared to ask.

  “It has all been extinguished. The entrance to the courtyard has been blocked by the Queen’s Aegis since last night, and no one has been inside. The Blackwoods have taken control of the Salty Dog and have occupied it to their leisure. The hangings continued shortly after the rebellion was put down, and anyone who was found within the reach of a weapon was sent to the gallows. Anyone who resisted the Blackwoods in the Lower Quarter was branded a rebel sympathizer and met the same fate. I can only imagine the number of innocents whose only crime was fighting for their own survival that we lost that day,” Lord Cross uttered.

  “That’s absolutely terrible,” Kayten mumbled with tears forming at her eyes.

  “While I was able to determine the fate of a few of your allies, my most paramount endeavour was to secure Berault. Unfortunately, he was taken by the Blackwoods before I could offer him shelter in the manor,” Lord Cross told them.

  “Berault? Don’t tell me he was hanged!” Garreth exclaimed.

  “Not yet, I’d imagine. They moved him to the dungeons where I was able to bribe the dungeonmaster to gain access to him. They had already begun a round of interrogation on him. By the looks of his bruised countenance, bloodied cloth, and ragged breathing, I could tell I had arrived just at the end of it. Since the guards listened close, we could not speak of our plans. But with the way he looked at me, I knew what had to be done,” Lord Cross uttered.