The Chosen by Kris Kramer (read the beginning after the end novel TXT) 📕

his head. Blue and white light suddenly flashed out above him in waves, and Aiden felt the air in the stairwell grow instantly cold. Landon's magic was designed to emanate from his own body, pulsing outward as a powerful defense mechanism. The magic froze living skin, causing incredible pain, and even though it only hit those he deemed as enemies, Aiden never liked being too close, just in case Landon made a mistake. The Anduains closest to them screamed out in pain, patches of their skin hardening and turning blue. They fell back, front lines pushing on back lines, trying to escape the stairwell and the blasting cold. They retreated back down to the bottom level in a disorganized mess, giving the Calderans some breathing room, though that wouldn't last long.

"Reform the lines!" Aiden stood up and watched the retreating Anduains cautiously. "Hurry!" The Anduains were already regrouping at the bottom of the stairs, fresh soldiers moving to the front while the injured ones moved back to let the Anduain healers tend to them. Except that firbolg. He stood at the base of the steps, watching Aiden, and Landon, menacingly.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Landon said, behind him.

"Been a lot of surprises the last few days. You need to step back, though. That entire army will be looking for you first when they get regrouped."

"Right." Landon slipped back behind the second line and waited amongst the archers in the back. Malcolm stood anxiously next to Aiden, still holding that spear. Aiden shook his head and took it from him.

"Use your sword now." Malcolm nodded quickly and pulled his long sword from its scabbard. Aiden reached over and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, trying to calm his nervous energy. "You're doing well," he said, and Malcolm nodded again.

The firbolg roared his commands from below, still staring at Aiden like he'd just seen his next meal. The Anduains rallied around him, ready for another push, and Aiden hoped his men had enough strength left to keep holding them back. If they stayed here in the stairwell, at some point they would get overrun and cut to pieces, so Aiden had to judge the strength of everyone around him, to make sure they could fall back before that happened. He looked at his fellow defenders in the stairwell, and he saw Calderans who were weary, bruised and scared. Their breath came fast and heavy, and sweat poured from their faces, but Aiden could tell they had enough in them for more. He could judge a fighter, a true warrior. That had always been a gift of his, and he knew these men weren't ready to give up yet. Even Alder, who stood behind him and to his right, looked eager for a fight, his eyes wild and a small hint of satisfaction on his face.

Suddenly, a horn sounded outside the tower and the Anduains stopped in confusion, peering behind them. It took only seconds for them to notice something amiss, and they quickly retreated from the stairwell and ran back out the tower door. Aiden heard shouting, blades clashing together, and the whine of powerful magic outside. He cautiously stepped down to the base of the stairwell to find an empty bottom floor. The doors were cracked open, damaged beyond any kind of quick repair, so there was no point barricading or even closing them. The sounds of combat were louder now, so Aiden moved to the open door, holding his hand up to keep everyone else back, and peered out from inside the tower.

He saw chaos outside. The forces of Bergmark were here now, streaming out of the forest behind the Anduain lines, and also veering east, toward the bridge. They must have been in the area and caught wind of the Anduain attack, deciding to take advantage by attacking the smaller Anduain tower force first. The horn had been an Anduain trying to warn his allies that a new enemy was on the field, because now more Anduains charged across the bridge far in the distance to meet the incoming Bergsbor forces. In the field just outside the tower firbolgs, elves, nuathreens and humans fought havtrols, dwarves, and their human slaves all for the right to eventually wipe out the small force of Calderan soldiers defending this tower.

"Bergsbor are attacking!" Aiden heard Finias' voice and turned to see him coming down the stairs with Kat over his shoulder. They were both bleeding from head wounds, though Kat was unconscious.

"What happened?" Malcolm rushed over and they laid her down on the steps, Riordan leaned over to take a look at her wound.

"The roof exploded," Finias said.

Riordan ran his hands through Kat's blood-matted hair, examining her head. "It's fixable," he said finally, "but not here." He turned to look at Aiden, who quickly understood.

"What does that mean?" Malcolm, who had held up well in the shield wall, was now losing his temper. "What do you mean not here?"

"Carry her," Aiden told Malcolm. "We'll heal her somewhere else. We're leaving this tower."

"What? Why?" Alder stepped forward. "We held them off. We can do it again until reinforcements come."

"No, we can't. No matter who wins that fight outside, they'll still outnumber us ten to one. Probably more." Aiden glanced back outside, gauging distances to the tree line to their south. "If we don't leave now, we're dead."

Silence throughout the room affirmed Aiden's assessment.

Alder stepped up next to Aiden, looking outside carefully. "Then how do we escape with two armies fighting right outside?"

"We pray," Aiden said calmly. "Then we run."

A chorus of silent, curt nods followed, and Aiden knew there was no time left to waste. Malcolm lifted his sister into his arms while Finias held out his bow, an arrow already nocked. Riordan and Landon, longtime veterans of these wars, stood together and shared a knowing look. Decnar Alder rallied his men behind him, spearmen, armsmen and archers, some injured, some exhausted, but none ready to give up. And Aiden stood in front of them all, ready to lead them out to safety.

He thought back to three days ago, to a time just before finding that Warshield on the road outside Alvarton, before meeting Finias and then finding Riordan outside his door. He'd been convinced then that this life was over, that his time in battle had come and gone. Yet here he stood, in a broken tower, with a small group of defenders looking to him for leadership, looking to him to keep them alive, despite the scar on his face. He didn't understand how he'd gotten here, but he was glad for it, even with the specter of death looming over them. This is what he was, what he’d been born to do. He had his second chance now, and he wasn't going to let anyone who counted on him down. Not now, not ever.

"We'll swing around the left side of the tower and go south, into the trees. If we get split up, we rally on the far side of the woods, at the other end of the plateau." He paused. "Hopefully all of us."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Aiden held up his battered shield, sheathed his sword, and grabbed his lucky goblin spear. One day, he'd have to replace it with something a little sturdier and sharper, but not today. Today, he wanted something in his hands he trusted, that he felt comfortable with. He patted his thigh, rapping the armor loudly, and Bastion emerged from behind the legs of the nearby soldiers, tail wagging, completely unaware of what he was about to get himself into.

"Let's go," he said to the dog, and charged out the door into the fray.

 

 

 

 

 

The Captain

Chapter 34

 

The vast, labyrinthine pathways appeared endless, yet Shela still insisted that she knew where to go. Eilidh had explained as accurately as possible where the cave-in had occurred that had separated her from Ruaidhri. Quickly claiming superior knowledge of the caverns’ layout, Shela had taken the lead.

In fact, even before that conversation, Shela had automatically assumed command. Eilidh hadn’t spent much time fighting alongside other Anduains, but was confused why the weakest member of the group would lead them. Surely Bob or Liam would’ve been a better choice. Nobody seemed to object, so perhaps druids often navigated for others. In any case, the whole group followed Shela through the silent, unending passages, winding around blind corners cautiously, and trying to avoid committing any crime grand enough to deserve a scowl from Shela.

Fionn was the polar opposite to her brash and assertive twin. Fionn spent most of the time walking beside Eilidh, talking about the Tree and Ghrian, how long had she known Ruaidhri, and when did she plan on taking her pilgrimage to Tan Arbrel, and to Arbreldin beyond that? Eilidh had politely replied that she hadn’t heard the Tree’s call yet, and Fionn had smiled and suggested Eilidh wasn’t listening very hard then.

The druid also taught Eilidh an unbelievable catalogue of spells. Of course, Eilidh appreciated the advice and lessons, but the sheer volume of the ancient knowledge was far too great to absorb all at once.

“Repeat back to me the spell for curing a poisonous affliction,” Fionn whispered. Shela had ordered everyone to keep quiet in order to avoid as much needless confrontation with enemies as possible, but Eilidh hadn’t noticed any signs of life on this leg of their journey.

“Alright,” replied Eilidh, who then fumbled the curing words out.

Despite Eilidh’s difficulty with the wording of the spell, Fionn smiled in that ever-present supportive fashion. “Very good. Now try to cure Kearney.”

The wolf shot a quick glance at Fionn upon hearing his name. Eilidh then saw the large animal stare at her, as if begging her not to accidentally do something terrible to him, like drop a pile of rocks on him like the dwarf had done earlier.

But of course he didn’t know what they were talking about.

Or did he?

Still mildly perplexed by that idea, Eilidh stood still and focused on the wolf, reaching out to connect their spirits. His fur bristled under her tentative touch. Never before had she sought to make such a union with a beast, but he shared the spirit of Andua with her, and she found the intersection of their souls far easier than she would’ve imagined.

The feeling of his unease was painfully apparent, but Eilidh felt fairly confident that she could squeeze the words out correctly. What was the worst that she could do anyway?

She avoided that thought, not sure what a mispronounced word could do to the poor animal.

In that space, everything around them faded from her perspective. Only Eilidh and Kearney existed. The spell rolled off her tongue quietly and far more fluently than before. The tingling sensation of the transfer of power between them broke her concentration and she lost the connection with the wolf. She opened her eyes to see that she had held onto Kearney for long enough. Ripples of the druid magic twisted softly around the wolf, who’d probably felt their healing effects many times before.

But that was when his master, Fionn, had cured him, not some random girl. A smile broke across her face as she and Fionn now trotted to catch up with the rest of their party. What an amazing feeling this was! To think, she had just cured an affliction. Well, if Kearney had actually been poisoned, she would’ve cured him, but still, she had seen the magic float around him and then dissipate, taking any maladies with it.

“You did well, Eilidh,” whispered her proud teacher with a grin.

“Thank you.”

Shela stopped ahead and glowered at the pair of giggly women.

“Are you two done trying to bring every damn enemy in the caverns after us?” she snapped quietly.

Despite the low volume of the words, they slapped Eilidh in the face with a tone of authority that she’d never heard before. She stood stunned for a moment before recalling that Ruaidhri had once explained that those blessed with an attunement to vocal magic could scream with enough intensity to disorient and confuse the enemy. Now Eilidh believed it, still waiting for the stars to clear from her vision.

Common sense fought to keep her mind in a positive light, but images of her lost Ruaidhri sought to drag her down into deep, dark recesses of her memory. Her recent magical success now already forgotten, Eilidh wallowed in a sudden sadness.

Will I ever find you, Ruaidhri? What will I do without you?

Shela continued on, pushing the group into a new area of the caverns. The style of the construction of the walls changed abruptly.