the rawn chronicles book two- the warlord and the raiders

7/28/2019 The Rawn Chronicles Book Two- The Warlord and the Raiders.

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THE RAWN

CHRONICLES

BOOK TWO

THE WARLORD AND

THE RAIDERS

P.D.CEANNEIR


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This novel is entirely the work of fiction.The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental

This edition 2013

1

Copyright P.D.Ceanneir 2013

Set in Times New Roman 12 pnt

All right reserved. No part of this publication may be

Reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,

In any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recorded or otherwise, without the

prior permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not

by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out orotherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent

in any form of binding or cover other than that which it

is published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.


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For Mither and Eddie,

Thank you for

everything.


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Contents

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE

PROLOGUETHE FUGITIVES

TRIELTRUCE OF MADNESS

TEN MOUNTAINQUEEN NIEVE

THE EVER LIVING ONETHE POINT OF NO RETURN

CHUNLA AND BEYONDTHE BATTLE OF THE PASS

RETURN TO THE VALEMARSHAL ZOLAR

GHOSTS IN THE NIGHTTHE BATTLE OF STERNFORD

TRAPPED IN THE MARSHTHE BATTLE OF THE FESS

THE BLACKSWORDS DILEMMATHE BATTLE OF COSSHEAD

DRAGONSTALKERTHE PRODIGAL SON


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KING VALIENTS SECRETTHE BATTLE OF ALN PLAIN

PALADINS

THE TRINKETS BALLDRAKKEN

THERE WILL BE DEATHSAFTERMATH


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Also by P.D.Ceanneir in the Rawn Chronicles Series

Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword


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Principal Characters in Order of Appearance

Powyss of the Hoath-FormerCaptain of the Sonoran Kings Guard

Havoc De Proteous Cromme-Crown Prince of the Roguns

Whyteman-Falesti ArcherLittle Kith-Formersergeant of the Sonoran Kings Guard

Hexor-Soldier of the Haplann Army

Foxe-Soldier of the Haplann Army and twin brother of Hexor

Verkin-Formersoldier of the Sonoran Kings Guard

Furran-Formersergeant of the Sonoran Kings Guard

Velnour-Sergeant of the Tattoium Militia

Linth-Falesti Archer

Brynd-Falesti Archer

Ethyn-Falesti Archer

Felcon-Soldier of the Haplann Army

Mactan-Soldier of the Tattoium Militia

Morden-Atyd of Triel, elder brother of Whyteman

Cinnibar-Countess of Sonora, Havocs great-great aunt

Lord Sernac-Master to Cinnibar and a mysterious and powerful Ri

Bronwyn-Princess of Ten Mountain, Granddaughter of Queen Nieve

Barnum-Atyd of Balael

Nieve-Queen of the Falesti

Tollard-Atyd of Flael

Sequilian-Atyd of WurelSoneros Ri-Consul to Queen Nieve and Chief Historian of the Tower of Sooth, Member of

the Ri Order

Mad-gellan-Nithi Lord of the Kelang

Vanduke-King of the Roguns, first of that name

Ness Ri-Consul to King Vanduke and member of the Ri Order

Lady Vara-Former Queen of Sonoraand Havocs aunt

Lord Rett-the Red Duke, uncle of Magnus

Magnus Cromme-Carras Knight, Master of the Rouge and Havocs half-brother

Jericho-Captain of the Tattoium Militia

Gunach-Dwarven Master Smith

Kasan Cromme-King of the Vallkytes and Havocs uncle

Shanks-Prisoner in cell 42, formerly known as Baron Telmar

Molna-Queen of the Vallkytes and Roguns, Havocs mother

Marshal Zollar- Commander of the Vallkyte Army

Sir Colby-Carras Knight

Dolment-Master of Ifor

Sir Kellan-Baron of Ifor, Lord Judiciary for Toll-marr and father of Dolmen

Elkin-Lord of Storridge, General of the Bellmen, Great War hero

Tia-Havant Priestess

Serena-Havant Priestess


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Eleana-Lady of the Rouge, wife of Magnus

Plysov-Governor of Aln-Tiss

Zerkis-Commander of the Vallkyte Western Battalion

Mad-daimen-Nithi Warlord, Overlord of the Wildlands

Raimen-brother of Mad-daimen


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Prologue

The dreams were coming thick and fast nowadays. The glutinous mass of them chafed at his

reality, scorched his soul, and burnt his mind with the images they presented.

Lustrous and solicitous pictures of dark desires mixed with portents of hateful malevolence,

filled his sleeping hours. These feelings were present within daylight time, wakeful and

restless, and they disturbed his thoughts, preyed on his conscious, and diminished his

physical self.

Lord Ness knew, that the images he was seeing, were being projected by a calm, kind and

sentient min; a mind so vast and ancient that he blanched at the sheer enormity of it all.

It was showing him the purpose of his existence, the reason for human survival. Heconcentrated on the received thoughts and processed them into his conscious mind.

It told him of the danger to the world at large. It showed him a war that had existed for

millions of years.

A dark entity would soon prevailed itself upon the planet and the sentient mind warned

him of the coming doom. It was not until he viewed the last dream that he took the warning

seriously.

First, he was shown the usual fleeting visions of dread and despair, coupled with the hope

of intervention, with righteous dogmatic optimism.

The preservation and order of the earth was of paramount importance.

Then the dream brought him to a cave mouth. It was large and inviting, reticent in its

beauty and awe-inspiring in its scope. The plants that festooned its walls dazzled his mind

with their colours, made him gasp with their splendour. Thick vines with lush green leaves

and purple flowers carpeted the floor and walls of the cave. There were orchids of various

species, tall trees, shrubs, and pretty flowers grew together in the sunbeams from the cave

mouth along with other attractive vegetation.

Small monkeys climbed the vines, birds called for mates, or to warn rivals away from their

territory; insects hummed around the heads of open orchids.

The Ri climbed through this gardens alluring charm and walked into the darkness at the

rear of the cave.

There was little plant life growing in this dim light, but light there still was. Bacteria and

algae formed a symbiant link to produce a bright illuminated glow that showed him his route


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down a long high tunnel, a tunnel carved out of the rock judging by its neat symmetry and

smooth surface.

He continued down the corridor, or hall. To a faint light that grew brighter with every

footstep, the light was a kaleidoscope of colour that blazed into an eerie conflagration. It also

spoke to him.

It whispered.

Hushed tones of thousands of voices radiated outwards with the colours, and bounced off

the walls of the cave. It was like the touch of wind on rippling water, the creek of bough on

branch, but it had a voice that was incoherent and disjointed in its multitude.

As he turned the corner, he could see the source of the myriad of colour and sound.

It was an Orrinn.

It sat upright on a plinth, it was large and robust in dimensions, full-bodied, yet petite in

stature. A small section at the top was missing. It was broken, damaged.

A host of colours swirled under its surface, swarming in dazzling hues. He could not make

out the Orrinns original material but he understood it was ancient. He understood also that it

was alive. More alive than any Orrinn he had ever seen.

The whispered voices that echoed inside the chamber calmed his fear and soothed his

doubts. He looked around and saw that the high curved walls of the Orrinns chamber was

totally covered in Skrol symbols; they shone silver, though, not reflecting the colours from the

Orrinn, but glowing from within. Lord Ness recognised all eighty four symbols of Skrol,

However, there was others that were new to him.

He was aware of a presence close by. He turned towards a dark archway on his right and

saw a large creature there. Its main mass was all in shadow, but its eyes shone through the

gloom; they were orbs of red and orange fire that bore into his soul. He was suddenly afraid.

However, the attention of the creature moved to the Orrinn and Lord Ness realised that the

whispering had stopped. The colours were now sinking to the base of the Orrinn and a black

form was rising towards the surface.

No, not black, but an absence, or an extinction of light. It crawled and oozed from the

damaged top of the Orrinn like a glutinous mass of sticky tar. It cackled and jeered at the

hushed whisperers and flinched at the surrounding Skrol that blazed brighter, sending the

chamber from darkness into an opaque monochrome. Ness Ri backed up, although his

instincts told him to stand still, because he somehow knew that the black form could come no

further from the Orrinn.


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Then the creature with the eyes of fire spoke to the dark form in a commanding tone that

struck terror into him, it spoke in a language he understood.

It said, BEGONE!, and Lord Ness woke....

...screaming and sweating in his bed.

The dream fragmented as it always did, but he clung onto the message it gave him. He

sucked in air as he gathered his thoughts. Once calm, he allowed himself to smile.

The Gredligg Orrinn, he said, at last. I know where it is!


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Part One

The

Eternal

Forest


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Darkness comes in many formsBut in the human mind

It is absolute

The Dragor- ri x

By Herodotus

And the Shadow-wrought shall smi te the benighted.

He shall bri ng order through chaos.

He shal l stand against the Dark En tity wielding the Sword of Power.

Butthe tentacles of the Lonely God can reach through the hearts of the most evil of

men!

Lortharlssons Chant

From the H in terl and Sagas

Cir ca 1670 YOA


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Chapter 1

The Fugitives

These are the tales of the Mythos. The old gods. The ones who were here before all

others. Though they are long past into legend, their influence on the world is still strong.

They watch, they manipulate and they are the hands of fate upon the lives of the

unwary.

Of the tales, there are many. Of the players, they are watched. Of the acts, they are

played out and scrutinised.

Therefore, we begin. Somewhere amongst the myriad of stories, there is a beginning of

sorts...

...He was running, with the rest in front of him running just as fast, running hard.

The adrenalin-fuelled fear helped to pump his legs faster over the forest floor, clarity

of mind helped him dodge the trees in the dim light.

His fellow co-runners stopped suddenly and he crashed into them, breathing hard. He fell

onto his knees clutching a stitch in his side. In front of them stood ten Vallkyte soldiers,

armed with sword and shield, full-body mail and the red- gold overcoat of his fellowinfantryman.

Who are you? What unit? a burly sergeant said. He had a scar on his chin that was the

only bald patch on his beard, and he was looking at the soldier on his knees.

Sergeant Morgan, said the soldier, Pander Pass infantry unit under Commander

Gryphon.

Well met sergeant, I am Senior-sergeant Todd from Fort Chunla. I take it we are all after

the same fugitives?

The other sergeant nodded. He also noted the other mans mention of his higher rank.

Yes we are. My troop caught up with them back there about a hundred yards, Morgan

indicated behind him with his thumb, but we were outnumbered, my men were slaughtered,

thank the gods we found you.

And you ran away? Todd scowled down at him. There was silence from Sergeant

Morgan and his men.


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Get in line with my men and follow my orders! growled Todd and Morgan jumped at the

volume and disgust in the mans voice. He and his fellow runners took their places behind the

others and ran with them back the way they had come. The stitch in his side did not go away.

Whyteman was running too, despite his weakness from lack of food he had made

good time and was now in the Eternal Forest proper. Havoc had sent him on ahead to call for

help while the rest of the men dealt with the pursuing Vallkytes patrols.

It had been a list of misfortunes for the fugitives. They had spent the last four-day

toiling through the Oldwoods; desperately defending themselves in a series of running battles

since they entered the woods. Their numbers were shrinking.

He did not allow himself rest. The lives of good men were at stake.

The sounds of fighting grew closer as Todd and his men neared the sun-dappled opening at

the bottom of a slight slope.

They could see two Vallkytes fighting an older man in worn leathers and a grey

goatee. The old warrior had already killed three soldiers and those men lay in a circle around

them. He was fending the other two off with consummate skill.

Sergeant Todd pulled out his sword from the grey leather scabbard at his side and yelled as

he went into the attack, his men followed loyally behind him. He had reached the bottom of

the slope and was several paces in front of his troop when a long black object whizzed

through the air, cutting his head off, and continuing through the trees on the other side of the

forest clearing. The men stopped in shock, but Morgan watched the object come back

towards them. He saw it was a sword which did not shine in the rays of sunlight that filtered

down through the high canopy above, a strong wind held it aloft, he could see leaves moving

under its flight, disturbing their decomposition to become clouds of browns and yellows.

He suddenly crouched as the sword flew over his head and he turned to follow its

course. He saw it land, hilt first, in a black gloved hand. The hand belonged to a black-

cloaked figure that stood menacingly on a fallen tree trunk. The hood turned towards his

direction, the face could not be seen though the darkness of the cowl.

By the gods! he gasped and the other soldiers turned from the headless corpse of their

sergeant towards the new threat.


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Morgan had heard the stories of the Blacksword, the Headhunter, the Dark Phantom, and

many other fearsome descriptions. However, it did not prepare him for the reality of the

situation, presented here in shocking clarity.

The Blacksword moved quickly from his place on the fallen trunk and glided down towards

the fight, swinging his black-bladed sword into the ranks of Vallkytes. The soldiers

instinctively raised shields and linked them together, their training and discipline showing.

Sergeant Morgan, too stilled by fear to join in, noted that the infantrymens defence was

formidable, but it did not deter the attacker.

The Blacksword swung his sword in a horizontal ark, straight at the line of shield men.

There was a sound of clanging metal and screams as three soldiers were violently lifted off

their feet and sent reeling through the air. Morgan fell to the ground and scurried away as the

mysterious figure carved into the space that he had opened. He swung round at surprising

speed cutting through shield and chain mail. Swords were useless as they shattered or

received deep nicks from the black blade.

One infantryman saw his chance and lunged at the hooded mans back, but his

opponent turned with an unnatural swiftness and caught his sword arm. He then hooked his

own weapon under his armpit and cut his arm off at the shoulder. Gouts of blood sprayed into

the air from the severed stump. The assailant followed this up but parrying two other attacks

and slicing open the ribcage of a third, cleaving his heart in two.

Sergeant Morgan noticed that the old warrior had now dispatched his opponents and was

cutting into the rear of Todds men. He had knocked one young infantryman on his back and

used the tip ofhis sword to cut through the mans throat, rich red blood pumped and frothed

up the older mans blade. Morgan got to his feet and ran, he ran until the sounds of the dying

were far behind him. He ignored the stitch in his side.

The rest of the Vallkytes died, as between them, the Blacksword and the old warrior hacked

them to the ground.

Standing slightly apart and breathing hard, the older man turned to the hooded

stranger who flicked his sword at an angle and the last remnants of blood shot from the

smooth metal leaving it completely dry. Nothing stuck to Pyromancium.

Not a bad days work, said the older man, two more than yesterday.

The Blacksword said nothing. He merely stared from the darkness of the cowl.

Hello, is there anyone there? he said waving his hand in front of the hood.

The Blacksword crouched into a defensive stance.

Are you my enemy? he said in a harsh whisper.


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Havoc its me Powyss, remember the old fool that took you on as an apprentice?

Powyss did not show it but he was worried for the boy. His alternate persona of the

Blacksword was starting to chafe with the princes reality. He cleaned his sword on a dead

soldiers tabard and sheathed it. This had an effect on the Blacksword and he relaxed. The

hood jerked from left to right as if its owner had just realized where he was, he pulled back

the hood, and touched the Earth Orrinn on the swords pommel.

Powyss could see Havocs confusion fade from his eyes as the gradual change from the

black clothing of his alter ego disappeared into a dowdy brown and grey threadbare

equivalent. The boys trim figure sagged from weariness, he brushed his hand through his

long black hair, a two-day growth of beard covered his chin, and he looked at Powyss with

dark eyes that slowly changed to his usual bright feral green eyes.

Sorry, I was miles away, said Havoc, he sheathed his sword which now bore the

resemblance of Tragenn the old sword of his ancestors, when I adopt the persona of the

Blacksword, its likelike Im someone else.

Im concerned for you. Maybe you should put the Blacksword to rest for a while. Powyss

did not want to complicate matters with the prince he knew of the boys curse of being a

Pyromancer, an awesome and vast resource of energy that could enhance his Rawn abilities,

but could also lead to madness if he did not meditate away those energies that resided in his

most volatile negative emotions. The boy had not meditated for a few days now and the strain

was starting to show.

I think you are right, we had better get back to the others, said the prince.

Just as they were about to leave, they heard shouts in the distance, more Vallkytes.

Do they never give up? How many do we have to kill to get them to leave us alone? said

Powyss with a sigh. Both men turned and ran in the opposite direction of the shouts.

Little Kith studied the Wind Orrinn that now sat in Dirkems saddlebags. The thing that

confused him, and the others, was Havocs ability to use Skrol to activate the Orrinn and use

it to produce a tornado that would kill an entire company of foot. Such a thing was unheard

of, even for a powerful Ri.

He was not complaining of course, Havoc did save all of their lives at the battle of Othells

Cairn. He, and the other fugitives from Haplann, named it as such in memory of their fallen

friend. They were all indebted to Havoc. He was an enigma, his prowess with the blade was

the equal of the captains, but his use of the Rawn Arts far outstripped his masters. He was


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well educated, a natural leader, humble and brave, his sword was of a unique quality, and

Powyss took orders from him. Little Kith may look like a towering ogre but he was no idiot,

he knew nobility when he saw it.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled him. He had no time to un-sling his double

headed axe from his shoulder, so he quickly took out a long bladed dagger from his boot and

turned.

Havoc and Powyss were only several feet from him as he moved and he was surprised at

how quiet they were. No one could sneak up on Little Kith. If they wanted to get past him,

then they usually took the long way round to avoid him.

Hows Verkin? asked Powyss.

Not good, said Little Kith nodding towards the makeshift camp, the twins are making a

stretcher.

The earlier ambush had gone well at first, but the Vallkytes had fought back viciously. As

Havoc and Powyss made for the camp, the prince could see four more of his people dead.

Verkin had taken an arrow in the chest, but still lived. The doughty fighter had already

suffered blood loss from a previous wound during the escape from the Haplann mines.

Over the past few days he had come to know his shrinking group well, he knew them

all by name now. The non-identical twins, Foxe and Hexor, from Haplann, had thrown

together a stretcher from branches and strong vines; they still looked similar though, with the

same brown hair and youthful sprinkle of freckles over their noses and cheeks. They looked

up from their work as Havoc arrived.

Best we could do in the time we had, boss. said Foxe. The men had started calling Havoc,

bossin the days since Othells Cairn, this seemed to be because he had no rank that they

could see, but accepted his authority. The stretcher looked as if it could lift Little Kith with

no problems and he said as much to the twins, who both grinned when Powyss said with any

luck they wont break their backs trying.

I heard that, said the distant voice of the giant.

Big ears on a big head, intoned Furran, Whyteman had sewed up the scar on Furrans

cheek before he left. However, the swelling was threatening to burst the stitching. Verkin was

lying in the stretcher, his face pale and breathing, shallow. Havoc placed his hand on the

clammy, cold forehead. The broken arrow shaft protruded from the mans chest, it had

punctured his lung and the congealed blood, and the shaft, was the only thing plugging the

hole and stopping his lung from collapsing. Verkins eyelids flickered slightly at Havocs

touch but he remained unconscious.


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Havoc shook his head, pity overwhelmed him, he was not going to lose any more

men, and he placed his other hand next to the wound.

No Havoc, we have no time for this, Vallkyte soldiers are coming and we need to press

on, said Powyss unconvincingly.

If I dont do something now, he will surely die, explained the prince.

The rest of the men stood around in a circle, concern on their faces. All there liked Verkin,

but the use of the Rawn Arts to heal another used plenty of energy and left the user weak.

With Vallkytes almost upon them, they would need Havocs blade.

Havoc reached for a Pyromantic Surge and linked it to the energies flowing through

the water element. He had only done this once before and ended up killing a man, although

that was intentional. This time he closed his eyes and concentrated on using controlled

amounts of the Surge that would gradually heal the wound.

There were gasps from all around him and a sucking, popping sound told him that the

arrowhead had been pushed out of the wound. Verkins back arched up in pain, his eyes

opened and starred into Havocs face. The wound and the lung both heal ed in front of every

ones eyes. It turned into puckered red scar tissue.

Havoc looked down at Verkin, who was starring straight back, and for a split second, there

was a brief Thought Link, but it was Verkin, shivering from the loss of blood, who saw into

Havocs mind for a few seconds, as the prince relaxed his control of the arts.

Verkin saw a brown bear towering over a blonde headed girl, Jynns head falling over the

side of the wreck of the Sky Ship, four girls impaled on stakes, a black cloaked figure with a

sword that did not shine and a field full of ravens in the centre of which was a beautiful girl in

a blue dress...

Havoc suddenly pulled his hands away and the link was broken. Verkin coughed twice and

fell back into unconsciousness; his breathing was more even now.

For Havoc, the Pyromantic Surge still churned unspent and his hands took on the form of

water, they rippled and looked transparent. The problem he had with summoning the Surges,

was that the energy hadto be released, and only in a controlled fashion. He concentrated on

dispersing it and a thick mist started to rise from the moisture in the air and mingling with the

dampness from the forest floor.

All the men witnessed his hand returning to normal, they looked around them at the ghostly

forms in the mist that moved like wraiths within the currents and eddies of the forest breeze.

Well this should cover us from the Vallkytes, said Powyss trying to change the subject and

failing amidst the agog looks of the men around him.


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Havoc stood with no sign of weakness in him as he gave out orders.

Linth, you and your men stay with me. The rest of you take Verkin into the forest. Well

hold them off and catch up; it may buy you some time. He rushed off to Dirkems side and

took out his horn bow and quiverfrom the black stallions saddle cantle.

Little Kith with his Golas, a larger, more powerful, version of the crossbow, arrived at his

side with the stocky Furran, who carried Whytemans bow.

Wed like to stay with you if you dont mind, boss? Furran said.

Havoc was about to disagree, but he had only Linth and four others, so two more would

help.

Alright then, Furran take Brynd and cover both flanks in case they go around us. Little

Kith, your with me.

He waved at Powyss who had gathered the rest of the men for the march onwards.

Take care, see you soon, said Havoc. His plan was to slow down the enemy with arrows,

then catch up with the others. They would need to delay the enemy long enough to give

Powysss group a head start.

Dont be too long, when your body starts leaking blood, then its time to run, shouted back

Powyss.

Thanks for the advice, Havoc watched as the twins, Velnour and Powyss took first turn at

carrying the stretcher, and the others followed on.

Havoc lined up with Linth, Felcon, Ethyn, and Mactan. The mist covered them well but

obscured their view of the approaching enemy. Havoc moved them out of the mist and behind

trees. They waited in silence as the soldiers came into view. Havoc was surprised to notice

that his ability to detect life around him through the Rawn Arts was heightened because of the

mist that lingered everywhere. As soon as one of the enemy soldiers moved through the low

white clouds, he sensed their approach even though he could not see them in the mist. He

could only assume he was using a version of the Thought Link as he connected to the energy

flows through the water element. He would have to ask Powyss about it later.

If there was a later.

I hope you are as good with that bow as you are with your sword? whispered Linth a

skinny dark haired archer with friendly brown eyes and a gap-toothed smile.

Havoc shrugged and notched an arrow; he took aim at the approaching enemy barely seen

through the mist and shot his arrow into an infantrymans eye. He went down with a piercing

scream, which caused his comrades to duck for cover. I get by, he said to Linth who was

stunned, because they were barely in range for an accurate shot.


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The others fired arrows, pushing the Vallkytes back, and forcing them to retire behind

shields, but the skilful Eternal archers soon exploited gaps in the formations and picked off

stragglers in the flanks. Soon the Vallkytes took to up the challenge and formed into a tight

shield wall. They moved forward slowly, fanning out to curve at the flanks. Havoc counted

twenty in all.

He called his men back to the thinning mist near the clearing. The Vallkytes saw the retreat

and rushed towards them, screaming a blood-curdling war cry. Their discipline was such that

their line stayed intact even as they ran through trees, but as they approached the fugitives

camp, they had to bunch up as they funnelled in-between dense bramble thickets on each

side.

The mist parted to reveal a Golas held by a seven-foot grinning warrior. There was

nowhere to go in the crush, so the front rank held up their shield and prayed to the gods.

Little Kith fired the thick bolt from the Golas; its kick jarred the muscles in his biceps. The

bolt, at such close range, punched through shield, armour, flesh and bone. Havoc and the

archers added to the carnage. However, they were outnumbered and the flanks were being

overrun, he saw Furran throw his bow away and unsheathe his sword, Brynd, a tall, thin,

blonde archer, had chosen a high spot to fire down at the Vallkyte infantry and achieving

some success at holding them back, but his arrows were running out.

Fall back! shouted Havoc and his men instantly obeyed. As Little Kith passed him,

he grabbed his arm.

Get them away, dont look back, Ill hold them off! he said and Kith saw the flash of

seriousness in Havocs eyes for an instant and he nodded.

As Little Kith ran after the others, Havoc pulled out SinDex, the Sword that Rules, known

as the Blacksword of prophecy, and ran at the oncoming enemy. He jumped into the air,

fashioning a hard area of air to lift him higher than a normal human could leap, and landed on

two shield men forcing them to the ground with the audible crack of broken bones. He lashed

out with his sword sending men back screaming as they clutched at spurting wounds and

severed limbs.

Nevertheless, the enemy soon surrounded him as he fought them off. He

contemplated changing into his alter ego. He could hear a dry chuckle at the back of his mind

urging him to let the Blacksword out, but the thought of not returning to reality disturbed

him. He would possess the Blacksword, but the Blacksword would not possess him.

A circle of dead surrounded him; he summoned a localised concentration of gale-

force wind to blast soldiers away from him, but more charged towards him out of the mist to


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augment the numbers of the original attackers. He felt weak and tired, but fought on

regardless. Soldiers from the flanks moved in, he hoped that Furran and Brynd had escaped

with the others.

The problem was that the prophecy was so precise in the details of warrior prowess,

all enemies shall be vanquished clearly meant that the owner of the sword was unbeatable.

It gave Havoc, as the Blacksword, the confidence to fight his opponents

A spearman lunged for his chest, Havoc sidestepped and spun around him bringing

his sword diagonally down through the mans back, severing his spine.

he had killed the commander of the Haplann Mines a few days ago, and though the

Rawn Master was a great warrior, he had managed to defeat him easily

Two more soldiers moved in. The prince stepped into their attack and pierced one

through the heart with the tip of SinDex, then heal spun, kicking the second in the throat, the

soldiers mouth worked up and down as he tried to breathe.

Jynn on the other hand, was a far trickier fight and his skills tested to their limit. A Ri

was extremely difficult to kill. However, at the point of hopeless defeat the Blacksword itself

struck a crucial blow to the final victorious outcome

An axe man swung at him screaming as he charged, Havoc ducked and took the attackers

legs off from below the knee.

the Sword that Rules was indestructible, it could cut through anything and imbibed

with part of his soul and a curse, so powerful, all feared it

Another soldier raced in with sword and shield, he swung the metal shield into Havocs

lunge, but the prince stepped back at the last moment and brought his sword up, using the tip

to cut the soldiers head from left jaw to top of right ear. The upper part of his skull slid onto

the ground with a dull thud.

so why was he struggling to control this change in his persona. He needed to keep

both aspects of his personality separate from the people of the island. His people respected

the Crown Prince of the Roguns, they would think differently if they learnt he was the

fearsome character of the Blacksword a prophesised bringer of war and destruction

An arrow whizzed past his ear, he turned to see more Vallkyte archers notching arrows just

beyond the patch of brambles. He killed two more men with swift sweeps of his blade. He slit

the throat of a third then lifted him with the wind element. The soldier hung above the ferns

like a limp sack of grain.


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The archers, seven in all, took aim. Havoc threw the body with the force of a strong gale

behind it, he could hear the arrows hit the body with dull thumps, and the archers dived out of

the way, as the corpse landed on some of their colleagues.

Fatigued now from the fight and from the use of the Rawn arts, but still determined to

continue, he ran at the archers who dispersed in fright, running back into the woods.

his worry was the Pyromancers curse of madness. He hoped that the insatiable desire to

become the Blacksword rose from the burning need to revenge his people and family from the

tyranny of the Vallkytes and not the start of somephysiological disorder

Even though he left a bleeding trail of broken bodies, the Vallkytes still came on and

moved wide in a bid to surround him. He needed to break out of the circle, so he rushed two

men and knocked them down. He ran with the soldiers at his heals towards the raised ground

that Brynd had fought from. Thankfully, the tall archer was not in evidence among the dead.

He cut down more men as they climbed after him, arrows flew by; one went through his

cloak close to his left knee. He deflected several more with the forte of his blade as he battled

between lunges.

The enemy were slowing but so was he. He received a gash on his right thigh, and an arrow

nicked his left ear as it whistled past his head. Below him, three Vallkytes linked shields then

charged, running up the slippery slope and tried to knock him off the mount. They would

have succeeded too if they had not been struck by a dozen, white feathered, arrows from

behind. The rest of the enemy was falling under the skilful aim of hidden sharpshooters. The

arrows came from all directions, but none touched Havoc.

Green clothed archers walked out of the trees, firing at random towards the fleeing

Vallkytes. They were mostly blonde and tall with straight backs and broad muscled

shoulders. Dozens of them were seeing off the enemy.

Havoc breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Whyteman among them. The white

haired gangling youth beamed up at him and waved.

I told this lot I did not need their help, but they insisted, boss, he shouted, and

Havoc laughed so much he thought that the bespoken madness would engulf him.


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Chapter 2

Triel

Not all of the men of the Eternal Forest were archers. Some were obviously well

trained men-at-arms who wore brown armour that looked much like interlaced laminated

hardwood to cover their chests in an ornate carapace, fitting their frames perfectly and

designed to give freedom of movement. They also carried tall pavise shields and short swords

that they used with quick precise jabs at the retreating Vallkyte spearmen. Havoc noticed how

the woodsmen fought in pairs or in groups of threes or fours, strengthening their attack, and

gaining a quick advantage in battle.

Only one man rode a horse, he was richly dressed in elegant riding britches; knee-

high brown leather boots and a silk shirt of a bright lemon that would make him stand out in

the darkness of the woods. His red cape did not have a stain on it and his white velvet gloves

looked pristine. He wore a golden circlet on his head that almost concealed his shock of

white-blonde hair. The dandy was talking to Whyteman and Havoc saw him pointing in his

direction. Both the equestrian and the archer moved towards him.This is my brother the Atyd Morden, said Whyteman introducing the richly dressed

rider.

I am grateful for your help sir, said Havoc walking over the dead that covered the

slight rise in the ground he was defending. The rider looked with astonishment at the bodies

and flinched at the groans of dying men. He gave Havoc a sardonic smile through hooded

eyes. He was perhaps only a few years older than Whyteman, with very little resemblance.

Is this all youre doing young man? he said indicating the bodies. He said the words

slowly and with much distain, as if he was talking to a stupid servant.

Havoc frowned at the question, he looked to his right, and pointed with his sword at the

nearest body, the dead Vallkyte soldier was laying face down in a shallow red puddle of

water and blood.

Probably not that one, I saw him drown himself with depression, but the rest I can claim,

yes, he said this with such a serious tone and a straight face that even Whyteman blinked.


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Oh, right then, said the rider with a slow nod. He looked around him to ensure that his

men were doing their job and that the Vallkytes had fled. Good show, keep up with us then,

we will head off shortly. He turned to his brother and waved goodbye, then trotted off.

Dont worry about my brother, said Whyteman, he is not as vain as he appears. I

think he was impressed.

Havoc stunned the young archer by embracing him.

You arrived in the nick of time, my friend. How did you find them so quickly?

My brother is Atyd for the south Eldom of the Eternal Forest, the land there is called Triel,

luckily for me he was hunting there for deer and wild boarwhen I happened across him.

Lucky for us to, said Havoc who yawned, he suddenly felt very tired.

Furran appeared with Brynd and called them over. Havoc was relieved to see them alive.

Furrans stitches on his cheeks had burst, but the blood had only oozed from the wound.

We got cut off from the others, explained Furran, Luckily those archers stopped the

Vallkytes from overrunning our position. Little Kith and the others are up ahead.

The Atyd Morden soon collected all of his men and marched them to the north. Havoc met

Little Kith and his group a few hundred yards away as they walked ahead of the forest men.

Powyss has sent word back. The Falesti have taken them and Verkin directly to

Mordens town which is not that far north, said the giant who was getting looks of awe from

the shorter forest folk.

Who are the Falesti? Havoc Frowned.

It is the true name of the peoples of the Eternal Forest, said Linth, the name is

ancient, dating back thousands of years.

Where are they taking us?

Triel Hall, the seat of the Atyd, said Brynd.

Whats an Atyd? said Furran who looked ill at ease with the Falesti marching at

their backs.

To us it means prince, said Whyteman.

I did not think that there were many princes on the island? said Havoc in surprise.

It is not a high royal rank among the Falesti, the closest translation for you will be duke or

count such as a landed Mormaer. There are four Atyds all ruling the four Els or Burghs of

the forest, Balael to the north, Wurel in the west, Flael is east with Triel here in the south.

So you are a noble then? smiled Havoc at Whyteman.

Not really, blushed the youth, I have five olderbrothers, and only two have titles. I can

however, call myself Boughman.


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Whichmeans what?

It means I have the authority to command a detachment of archers, shrugged Whyteman.

Very handy, said Havoc.

I thought that the forest folk did not take kindly to strangers on their land? asked

Little Kith.

We are protective of our people and traditions. Nevertheless you will find that we are very

hospitable, said Linth.

Yes but why are they giving me funny looks. They all looked behind them as Little

Kith pointed towards the marching column of Falesti soldiers.

Thats because you look funny! said Furran, and got a punch on the arm for his

cheek.

Its probably because they have never seen someone a tall as you, informed Linth.

They marched on for another hour and Havoc noticed a slow transformation occur

among the trees of the Oldwoods and the Eternal Forest. In the Oldwoods, the firs and birches

grew in dense copses, massed together in wild overgrown disarray; the forest of the Falesti

was more open and uniform.

The trees were larger to, much larger. He recognized tall mountain ash in abundance,

their trunks wide and ample. He saw many varieties of sequoia, mountain ash and large oaks.

Others he did not recognise, their branches so high that he could not leap to them even with

the wind element for assistance.

The canopy was high, giving off an open airy feeling, reminding him of the library in his

home citadel with it high arched ceiling of curved beams. However, it was also bright as the

sunlight shone through the many gaps in this roof of leaves, dapples of light and shadow

moved over the forest floor as the wind swayed the higher branches.

Grass grew in many places. These little glades, for want of a better name, also boasted

flowers and shrubs of many species and colours. The sound of animals, searching for food in

the undergrowth of tall ferns, was all around them. Birds and squirrels flitted from tree to

tree; in the distance, a woodpecker could be heard beating out its drumming tattoo on a trunk.

For the first time, in what seemed forever, Havoc felt calm and relaxed as he viewed the

beauty and splendour around him, life just seemed so simple and undemanding here in this

tranquil haven. For once, his alter ego agreed; there were no incessant demands or whispers

from the Blacksword and Havoc frowned at his anxiety and concern he had for this other

persona. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was imagining it all.

The Atyd Morden broke his thoughts, as he rode to his side.


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My brother tells me that you are the leader of this sorry lot? he said with a hint of

apprehension. Havoc got the feeling that the Atyd was not used to dealing with outsiders.

Yes sir, I am.

He is indebted to you for saving him from the atrocities at Haplann, said Morden, and so

am I for that matter. Dont tell him, but he has always been my favourite brother. The Atyd

leaned down and winked at Havoc.

The smile both men gave each other was genuine, and Havoc was beginning to warm to

this dandified aristocrat.

Your secret is safe with me lord Atyd.

Please just call me Morden,and you are?

Havoc, he was aware that the man was trying to be friendly, but his tone was more

patrician than familiar.

Thats a Rogun name isnt it? he said with a slight note of disgust.

Born and bred, said Havoc with a sigh. He was not worried about others recognising

his royal identity by his name; it was after all, common among his people.

So you bring the troubles of your people into the Eternal Forest? The Atyds tone

was sharp.

There is a civil war brewing on this continent Atyd, how long do you think that the

Falestis safely is compromised?

We are quite safe inside the forest I assure you, Morden said this with some forced

conviction and a straight back.

For a while yes, but with King Kasan and Cinnibar linked together in the Treaty of

Sonora, and the lands around the Eternal Forest in Vallkyte control. It is only a matter of time

before your haven of wood and leaf is in their hands, said Havoc in a light matter-of-fact

tone.

Morden stared down at Havoc and shook his head.

We have been secure here for thousands of years. Safe in the knowledge that our land

of tree is so easy to defend, and defend it we have in the past. In our very nature the Falesti

are rooted with the forest, bound to the land, free from tyranny.

The same thing can be said for my people. Look what happened to them.

The Atyd huffed then struck the flanks of his horse and rode away. Whyteman

appeared beside Havoc moments later; they walked together for a while in silence.


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Do not think ill of my brother boss, his views are much the same as yours in regards

to the war, but as Atyd he has a duty to the Falesti and to his queen. He is torn by his feelings

and the laws of our people, many of whom are like him, said Whyteman after a time.

Also likeyou?

Being a Boughman gives me the freedom to choose a different path from the restraints of

my brother. He wished me to stay at his side, but I went with the Atyd Cinram to the

Dragorsloth in support of the Sonorans.

It seems this Atyd Cinram had no constraints if he left the forest for battle, Havoc mused.

He and the queen never saw eye to eye at the best of times, he was married to the queens

daughter. The queen forbade the taking of arms against outsiders, but she had to relent to

public opinion because of Cinrams popularity. Sadly, he fell in battle, and now the balance

of power in the forest shifted, he turned to Havoc, I do not know what new world I will

enter.

I understand. Things change, they have changed for me every year since my peoples

exile.

The path they walked was well trod. The forest, with its wide spaced trees harboured many

such roads. They crisscrossed the ground for ease of travel, and branched off at random

intersections that wound deeper into the woodland. Everywhere Havoc looked, he saw the

same scenic view. If he had no sense of direction he would feel lost. He was amazed that the

Falesti knew their way through the vast expanse of forest without road signs.

Are you a Rogun Noble? askedWhyteman suddenly, the others are curious about you

and Captain Powyss is very tight-lipped.

Havoc regarded the archer for a few second. He realized that Whyteman did not mean to

offend him with his forwardness and any prying into Havocs background overshadowed his

curiosity.

I am nothing without a home, Whyteman, he answered, and Im only noble in heart.

Whyteman accepted this with a nod.

There were shouts up ahead as a small troop of archers carrying tall war bows appeared and

welcome the Atyd and his men. Havoc could see the outline of a wooden palisade, which

looked like thick vines interwoven and knitted into a robust wall.

The gate was made of a curtain of hawthorn and leafy brambles that seemed to open up on

their own accord. The natural growth of leaves and lichen on the walls gave the whole aspect

the look of camouflage. Havoc saw the similarities in his own people; their techniques

regarding plant manipulation and reverence were comparable to the Falesti.


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Beyond the gate and the walls was a township in the trees, houses made from the branches

themselves sat in the spread of boughs and limbs. Twigs and leaves meshed and fused

together to make walls and roofs. The brown sticky resin that exudes from the tree bark that

also held everything together weatherproofed the whole ensemble. Havoc was impressed at

the artisanship; he voiced his opinions to Linth.

It looks like the houses have been made by the trees?

Its thanks to the Roguns that we have this knowledge. One time, long ago, a Rogun Elder

wandered into the Eternal Forest and made friends with the Falesti. He taught my people the

art of manipulating the trees to provide shelter and protection. In return we look after the

forest.

I did not know that. Who was the Elder? Havoc said.

A man called Veltigen. He and the queen soon fell in love and married. They had four

sons who became the first Atyds and each inherited the four Eldoms of the forest.

Whyteman and his brother are descendants of the first Atyd of Triel, where we are now , said

Linth sweeping his hand around him at the town of tree-manses.

So this Veltigen was one of your kings? smiled Havoc.

No, our people do not have kings, only queens. Females are prized higher than men

because of their closeness in sex to the Earth Mother.

Havoc was surprised to hear another culture identify with the ancient stories of the Elders

and Mythos. He for one believed that the Roguns and the Vallkytes were the only tribal

entity who worshiped the ancient religions.

Of course, your people worship the Mythos, where mine worship the Earth Mother

because she created them, said Linth as if he knew Havocs thoughts.

The houses in the trees were not restricted to the branches. They also had huts on the forest

floor, with pens for livestock and the open sunny glades for crops. Spiral staircases, some

manmade, others grown from the thick trunk of the tree itself, curled up from the ground to

the high houses. Interconnecting branches above them produced a highway of bridges linking

to other homes. Some of these were even viaducts carrying rainwater to each household.

Pulleys with ropes were used to hoist up goods or transported along horizontal rope crossings

that ran parallel to the bridges; this, in turn, was a quick and easy way to convey supplies and

merchandise to anywhere within Triel. This whole system of bridge and rope was lost or

hidden amongst the greenery of the tree tops; even the homes of the natives were hard to see

until you were close enough to notice the stairs or the livestock around the trunks.


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The trees here produce leaf all year round, due to our care of them, said Linth, this is why

it is known as the Eternal Forest.

How are you able to manipulate the trees? said Havoc.

We sing to them.

Linth could see Havocs surprise.

Falesti have this knowledge taught to us when we are young. It is a skill that we have

known about for many an age; although, when the Elder Veltigen arrived, he helped us to

understand and refine our abilities somewhat.

As they wandered through the township, the people came out of their homes to stare at the

newcomers. Men women and children in the similar green attire as the archers watched them

pass by. Several groups of young women pointed and giggled shyly at Little Kith. They were

either blond or brunette, with flowers in their hair and short light brown skirts that showed off

their long bare legs and feet.

Looks like Im going to enjoy it here, smiled Furran.

How many battles have you been in? enquired Whyteman.

Plenty, why do you ask?

Well that will give you some experience with the Falesti women then.

Whyteman laughed as he watched Furran go pale.

They halted at another gate, this time it was manmade with the wall to match. Beyond was

a large building that spanned six trees. Each of the four high towers formed from branches,

which twisted together into the circular shape of turrets. Its first section was on ground level,

and to the princes surprise, it was made of stone that was covered in large leafed ivy.

Complete with windows and doors, the stonework looked out of place here, compared to

the rest of the structure. A pair of large oak doors opened as they entered the compound and

Powyss strode out. The prince was pleased to see his old friend and smiled when Powyss

gave them all a big grin.

Am I pleased to see you lot, he said, we have been here for over an hour now. I

thought you would never get here.

Cant get rid of us that easily, said Little Kith looking around him.

Hows Verkin? Havoc asked.

Hes in very good hands, but he will need a lot of rest, so we cant disturb him. The

others are eating the Atyd out of house and tree. Follow me.

They all followed Powyss through the oak doors and into a small open courtyard, which

was more like a garden. Flowering shrubs and creepers grew all along the inner walls.


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Blooms of many species were sitting in pots along the flagstone and rain gutters. Smaller

trees blocked the sunlight in the shaded corners and roses stretched along the borders of the

courtyards path, their pink and yellow heads catching the suns rays through the openings in

the canopy. Havoc could smell honeysuckle and jasmine in the warm air. The smell reminded

him of Eleana and his heart leapt at the memory of her.

Beyond the courtyard was a square lawn next to the entrance to the hall, a long table with

chairs sat in the centre. A group of thin, dirty, hairy, threadbare men were stuffing their faces

with fowl and pork. A tall man with an eye patch and dark curly hair was pouring cider into

the goblets of the hungry group. He looked up at the newcomers.

Hey theyre here! shouted the eye-patched Velnour.

All of the others rose up from their seats, welcomed Havoc, and his men. While Furran

gave a brief explanation of what had happened after they had all separated, Velnour told

Havoc their story.

Whyteman and his brothers men had found them not long after they had set off. They

had taken Verkin strapped in-between Dirkem and Sarema, because of the spacing between

the trees of the Eternal Forest this was easily done, and had made good time to the Atyds

manse, which was what the larger tree houses were known as.

Medicine men and women from the town are helping to treating Verkin now, they

know of your attempt to heal him. They said if you hadntdone it he would be dead by now,

said Velnour.

Im glad hes well, when can we see him? said Havoc.

I think they will make an exception for you, boss. Ahh we all wanted to turn back and

help you, but Velnour looked guiltily at him.

I know. There was nothing you could have done that the Falesti hadnt done already.

Havoc only had time to drink half a mug of cider and eat a palm-sized strip of pork,

when Powyss took him to one side. With a chicken leg in one hand and the rest of the cider in

the other, they walked round to the stables on the other side of the hall. Thin trees had grown

up from the ground and then pressed and intertwined together to form the walls of the lower

level to the hall and its stables. However, the stable entrance was an open oak arch, hand

carved with symbols and depictions of rider-less horses.

There is something that needs your attention, said Powyss.

Havoc was confused and intrigued. A cobbled path led to closed stalls, left and right.

Dirkem and Sarema occupied the two at the very end on the right. The black stallion nuzzled


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his nose on Havocs hand. Powyss took out a small silver-white orb, about half the width of

his palm, from Dirkems saddlebag that was hanging on a hook by the stalls entrance.

The Lobe Stone has been going nuts since we got here. I left it in the bags so no one could

hear it. It has been making humming noises and vibrating.

Could be Aunt Cinnibar getting in touch with the late Jynn, Havoc took the orb from

Powyss. It was silent and cold in his hand.

Good, keep it out of sight, we dont want the forest folk thinking youre some sort of

spy. Havoc nodded in agreement and replaced the stone inside the saddlebag. After ensuring

that the horses had enough food, they both walked back to the feast on the lawn.

This Atyd Morden seems genuine enough, said Powyss as they rounded the corner of the

courtyard, he may be a good ally for you or at least a supporter. I would suggest we be on

our very best behaviour while we are his guests.

Agreed, Havoc sighed.

The Atyd Morden was at the entrance to his hall with Whyteman and Velnour. When he

saw, Havoc and Powyss he walked up to them with long strides.

I have taken the liberty of housing your men in the garrison block outside the hall grounds.

There they will find fresh clothing and a bath. Both of you and my brother, are guests of

honour in my tree-manse, my steward will show you to your quarters, said Morden with a

smile. The last discussion he had had with Havoc seemed forgotten, for now at least.

You are most kind Morden, how could I ever repay you? Havoc said in a mild ly grateful

tone.

It is not necessary; the life of my brother is payment enough, there is a banquet provided

for you and your men tonight. Afterwards we shall talk, Havoc, in my study.

the rawn chronicles book two- the warlord and the raiders

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