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Book Two: The Burning Sky

Chapter One: A Shadow on the Plains

The border city of Rendeth had experienced conflict throughout its history. On the
eastern edge of Traimont, the fifty thousand inhabitants lived in the gateway to the
country. Dozens, if not hundreds, of merchants, travellers and official couriers passed
through Rendeth daily, on their way between the capital city of Toraquai and the
major cities of Sotramar. One terminus of Alin’s Highway, the great road that linked
Lonminium with her Traimontese allies could be found at Rendeth. The newcomers to
the city spent time wandering around the stalls of the bazaar, where items from all
over the continent could be located. It was even possible, from time to time, to find
rarer artefacts from as far a field as Dimwald across the sea. The eclectic mixture of
architecture styles displayed through the streets were inevitable from a city located on
the border between Traimont and Lonminium.

Indeed, in years past, the two countries had fought a series of bloody battles over
who could claim ownership of the strategically important city. Eventually, with the
conclusion of the Traimun Wars and the lasting peace between the two nations,
Rendeth would be forever controlled by the line of Traimontai. This had not proved
to be the end of struggles over the city, for Rendeth was situated on the border of the
three most powerful nations on the continent of Sotramar. The fiery people of Sokath
had laid claim to the city and had spent a decade occupying it during the Sokath
Wars. When the wars were concluded with the peace of Joredes, Rendeth proved to a
be a sticking point in the negotiations. Finally, King Stajikai had allowed the free
passage of Sokathans into the city, but with highly restricted access beyond its walls.
Four years had passed since the conclusion of that conflict, but there lingered a sense
of distrust towards the invaders from the east.
Rendeth now faced the wrath of invaders from the west.

The council members of Rendeth had met everyday for the past week, anxious to hear
news from the capital. But there had been no word from Toraquai, or any other part
of Traimont. Some of the elder members of the ruling party were convinced that
Sokath had broken the truce and their armies were on the march again. The
representative of the Sokathans, Jul Gurath had pleaded constantly that his people
were uninvolved. He made reference to the fact that his country’s armies had been
weakened by the century of struggle. Despite his logical defence, members of the
council had decided to pass a resolution limiting the entrance of Sokathans into
Rendeth. Every person wishing to enter from the east would undergo a thorough
search to determine whether their intentions were threatening to the security of the
city. So far, in the three days since the council had passed the resolution, no Sokathan
had been interred. Jul Gurath pointed to this fact as proof his people were not
responsible for the loss of communication.

Riders had been dispatched to Toraquai to ascertain what was happening, but no
word had been heard from the three men sent. A week had passed, and still no
indication of what was happening. Messengers had been sent south to Kisian, but
they were informed that the Lonminian Army would remain within their own
territory. They offered to provide assistance in the instance that something happened,
but could not commit troops without just cause.

Despite some dissenting voices, convinced that there was another explanation, the
council decided that defensive measures needed to be taken. For the majority, the loss
of communication suggested a great tragedy had struck Traimont. An unseasonable
haze that lingered over the horizon gave further indication of trouble. Travel
westwards was banned, and the city garrison patrolled the walls constantly. The
garrison force of several thousand men had been bolstered by volunteers of all ages.
The number of defenders, some armed only with homemade implements, farmers with
their tools, now reached five thousand. Two squads of the Traimonian Brotherhood
offered a degree of leadership to the inexperienced defenders, but their commanding
officer, Captain Taishao wondered when his troops would be aided by more of their
brethren.

Supplies had been gathered from the surrounding fields, the people and livestock from
the immediate vicinity had been brought within the city walls. This operation
completed, the gates were drawn shut, and the people of Rendeth awaited in nervous
anticipation of what might be coming their way. On the morning of the twelfth day
after their loss of contact with the rest of Traimont, the citizens of Rendeth were given
a definitive, and alarming answer.

The forces of Raevan Halfclaw, steadily advancing like a relentless crimson torrent,
marched on their city.

Raevan Halfclaw could sense the destruction that would be unleashed upon Rendeth.
He had an intuitive feeling when blood would be shed, that filled him with
excitement. He stood on a low hill that lay on the road to the city, and from this
vantage point, he had an unobstructed view of the target of his army. Below him the
attacking force marched past, and he revelled at the promise of death they held. He
smiled at the irony of the citizens of Rendeth’s fellow countrymen being the
implements of their destruction. The shambling mass of Traimontese prisoners led the
battle line, herded forward with the points of swords and the crack of a whip.
Following on from the ragtag conscripts were the arrayed might of two regiments of
the Saekrynian Guard. Scattered among the lines of troops were weapons of siege,
catapults and towers that would be put to use in the coming struggle. Many among
their ordered formations were waiting impatiently behind the disorganised prisoners,
eager for the chance to fight and pillage. More than a few were hopeful that during
the confusion created in the city’s demise, they could indulge their pleasures. Their
superiors among the Vesperic Knights frowned upon the baser urges of men, but in a
city falling apart around them, the crimson knights could not be everywhere at once…

The cream of Raevan’s army, the strike troops of the Vesperic Knights formed the
rearguard of the army, riding impressive steeds into battle. Raevan would hold them
in reserve, to be unleashed upon the defences of Rendeth when they were least
expected. Several dozen carried the Fire Teeth arrows that had wrought such chaos
and devastation during the initial assault on Traimont. Raevan doubted whether the
defenders could comprehend the inevitability of their fate, for it stalked them across
the plains of what used to be their country. Now they, and their precious land,
belonged to the Lord of Skryean.

Commander Draeval Darkflame stepped forward from the rest of the command troops
to stand beside his brother. Draeval’s ornately crafted battle dress was a wonder of
Saekrynian metalwork. The lines of the armour were drawn from smooth curves into
vicious looking edges, and formed as much of a weapon as the sword he carried into
battle. Draeval doubted whether he would get the chance to display his martial skills
in the oncoming conflict. His place was as the overall commander of the army,
responsible for the execution of Raevan’s battle plan. In the six years since Raevan had
ascended the throne, Draeval had not had much cause to fight personally, despite his
unparalleled skill with a blade. Raevan Halfclaw himself would be among the
attackers, his desire for bloodshed outweighing all suggestions of restraint. Sometimes
Draeval felt concerned at his brother’s reckless attitude towards combat, but knew
there would be no dissuading him. Raevan lived for conquest and the fight. Nothing
could get in the way of that. Draeval would do his best to hold Raevan back until the
right moment, but when his brother decided to enter the melee, Draeval would be able
to do nothing but watch.

The relentless approach of the Saekrynians continued, and the defenders of Rendeth
waited for the apocalypse about to be unleashed. Prayers were offered to Traimontai
for the help of their ancestors. All within the city walls prayed for some sign that
their hope was not in vain. A sign that the leaders of Traimont had not abandoned
them.

They awaited the breaking storm.

“This is not helping,” said King Arin Del Vinium, slamming his hand down on the
Lomin oak table. The gathered advisors to the ruler of Lonminium fell silent under
their king’s commanding voice. Arin waited for several moments until he was sure he
had the full attention of the room. Standing opposite the twenty six year-old ruler
was Jalahai, Lord Commander of the Traimonian Brotherhood. Sitting a few paces
behind Jalahai was his friend and comrade in arms, Kaiya, only the second woman to
be inducted in the elite defence force of Traimont.

Jalahai was frustrated. He and Kaiya had been allowed into the throne room of the
Castle of Alomin, seat of power in Vinium, several hours previously. Jalahai had lost
track of time, but from the grey sky slowly shedding more light upon the exquisitely
carved marble floor, he knew it was approaching dawn. How many days had it been
since the companions had escaped Toraquai? When had their flight from Traimo
begun? Jalahai thought it had been perhaps two days since Kaiya and he had been
separated from his brother Obakhai and the rest of their group. Two days since he
had lost his dear old mentor, Enekhai. Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from
the table, allowing everyone in the tension-filled room to compose themselves.

Jalahai's eyes met Kaiya’s briefly, and he knew from her expression that she could feel
his frustration. She must be equally disappointed that the King Arin’s council of
ministers were spending so long debating the issues. Jalahai felt convinced that if he
and Arin could spend ten minutes discussing the dire situation facing Traimont, the
Lonminium Army would be marching within the hour. However, he realised there
was a process of law to follow, and despite his position as ruler, King Arin was no
despot like Raevan Halfclaw. He needed the support of a majority of the council
members before any military action could be taken. The debate had become bogged
down over the question of who had been attacked. So far, the Lonminium troops
manning the border posts reported no enemy activity, and therefore several ministers
were hesitant of sending warriors into Traimont without an initial aggressive act.
Their part in the Sokathan Wars had been an enormous drain on the resources of a
country constantly watching its eastern border against raids from the nomadic tribes
of the Great Plains. Thousands of Lonminian soldiers had lost their lives in the
century of conflict with Sokath, and the prospect of another war so soon afterwards
was met with an understandable degree of trepidation.

Jalahai had tried to appeal to Arin directly, and had produced Terakhai’s journal. The
solemn pledge held within had stirred Arin, recognising the oath made between the
two men’s fathers. Yet despite this, the arguments had continued. Jalahai realised that
as things were progressing, it would take a surprise attack on the part of Raevan’s
forces to bring Lonminium into the fight. He knew that would be far too late. Once
the forces of Skryean had reached as far inland as Rendeth and into the neighbouring
countries, the prospect of removing them came with far greater risk and chance of
irreparable damage to Traimont. Indeed, Raevan’s people might never be defeated if
they were allowed to reinforce their position along the coast. Jalahai could never
allow that to happen. His Brotherhood had been all but destroyed, his countrymen
enduring unimaginable hardships under the tyrant Raevan Halfclaw. The Vesperic
Knights had to be defeated, the Saekrynian Guard sent back to their own land. No
other outcome was acceptable. Jalahai turned slowly back to the table, Kaiya saw the
fiery determination blazing in his eyes.

“King Arin, distinguished ministers, I have explained of the fate of my people,” Jalahai
began, as Arin stood up straight to listen to him. The council members ceased their
muttering and gave Jalahai their full attention. “You have heard the deplorable
actions of Raevan Halfclaw, who now holds sway over most, if not all of my country.
I have brought before you the oath made between our fathers, a pledge of mutual
defence. I wish to beseech your majesty of your aid in this dark time. As our ancestors
affirmed a lasting peace between our great nations, so I request the assistance of
Traimont’s oldest ally.

“There was a time when Lonminium was threatened by invaders from the east. The
barbarians were at the shores of the Vini River, and there seemed nothing that could
halt the tide. Was it not the intervention of the Traimonian Brotherhood that saved
your capital? Saved this very castle? Since that day, our warriors fight side by side to
prevent such a calamity occurring again.

“Yet it had happened. Though this time to Traimont, and the most vile marauders
from the west. The forces of Raevan Halfclaw are unlike any threat our peoples have
faced before. I have no doubt that this madman will not be satisfied with the
enslavement of the Traimontese people. Lonminium will be next, and the violence and
terror that swept through my fair land will soon ensnare your countrymen. King
Arin, you and your ministers hold the fate of millions in your hands. Act now, and
we can strike a blow at the ambitions of this Saekrynian tyrant. Do nothing, and yes,
none of your people will die today. Perhaps none will die tomorrow. But the darkness
will invade your green fields, never to be lifted.

“I ask most humbly, send messengers to Kisian, to Flavium and Mellium. Recall the
warriors in the Towers of Lonmi, for there is a far greater peril to face. With your
standard flying proud, we should ride to Rendeth, and from there, launch the
counterattack that Raevan Halfclaw will not expect. Once my people see that his forces
can be defeated, I have confidence that they will rise up, and the liberation of
Traimont will be at hand. We cannot allow this madman to consolidate his power,
otherwise our peoples will be forever under his boot. My lord, I most humbly await
your answer.”
Jalahai finished with a slight bow and stepped back to join Kaiya, who had stood to
support her commander. Jalahai kept his head low, waiting for a response.

At the table, King Arin remained motionless for some time. His advisors exchanged
impressed glances, but said nothing. All eyes turned towards the king.

Finally, he walked round the table to stand face to with Jalahai. The two leaders met
each other’s gaze, their faces remaining expressionless. For what seemed an eternity
Jalahai and King Arin said nothing. Slowly, Arin raised a hand to place on Jalahai’s
armoured shoulder. His blue eyes shone in the first rays of the rising sun, his mouth
parting in a kind smile.

“Commander Jalahai, your speech was most eloquent. I assure you, I will debate this
further with my council,” Arin said, his voice as commanding as ever. “You must be
exhausted, Lieutenant Kaiya as well. Take some food, change your clothes, I insist.”

Jalahai opened his mouth to protest, but Arin quieted him with a raised hand.

“When you are finished, I promise to have a definitive answer. The council will take a
vote soon.”
Arin removed his hand, and gestured to one of the Sanctuary Guard. The tall, fair-
haired soldier glided over. Arin said a few quick commands in his native tongue, and
indicated for Jalahai and Kaiya to follow. After a moments hesitation, they complied.

“Your hospitality is most appreciated,” Jalahai said. “But your military assistance is
much more crucial.”

“I know Lord Jalahai, I know.”

As the king turned back to his advisors, the doors shut behind Jalahai. Kaiya turned
to him.
“Do you think that was enough?” she whispered.

“We can only hope it was.”