By the Sword Page 21

  “Looks like you shouldn’t have turned your back on the prince all those years ago. Look where your new belief has brought you, fool,” said Ittonifer.

  Tanel spun around and faced Endil.

  “Let’s go,” Tanel hissed.

  Endil shook his head.

  “It will only make things worse, lad,” he said.

  Tanel gritted his teeth. They had to do something. They were about to die anyway.

  Ittonifer rolled Edandir over with his boot, then spat in his face.

  “Stop!” cried Chrissa.

  “You try doing that again, devil worshipper, and you’ll regret it!” shouted Endil.

  Endil lifted his mace angrily.

  Ittonifer’s demoniacal glare went to the formidable knight of Sanctus.

  “Big talk for one that is vastly outnumbered. I will keep you in mind when I am deciding who I will order to be hung, drawn, and quartered!”

  “You have no quarrel with him,” said Edandir.

  “That is for me to decide.”

  A line of warlocks marched toward the armies. The robed men appeared eerie in the thick mist that shrouded the field. Edandir already knew what Ittonifer intended to do. He would use their sorcery to torture his captors before sending them to their deaths. What a mess.

  Lord, if it is Your will for us to die today, I will do so willingly, but I just ask that You spare my army the pain and agony that the devil wills for them to endure.

  Ittonifer grinned at his approaching magicians. Then, he looked down at Jalarn.

  “You will pay the dearest for turning against me.”

  “I do not regret saving Talya,” said Jalarn.

  General Edandir’s stomach knotted. The second most powerful man in Malinor had risked his life to save Talya, but there was nothing that Edandir could do to repay him.

  Lord, he doesn’t think that he is worthy of Your forgiveness. Please show him that he is before it’s too late.

  Ittonifer glared at the magicians.

  “I want you to cast the most agonizing spell known on my former general.”

  Both armies fell silent.

  One person cried out. It was Chrissa.

  Everyone else stood fixated on the warlocks.

  As one, the magicians removed their hoods. The rain poured down on their clean-shaven heads. Edandir expected their solemn chants to fill the air, but they did not utter a word.

  Edandir held his breath.

  “Are you daft?” asked Ittonifer.

  “No, Ittonifer,” said the eldest one.

  Edandir assumed that he was the leader.

  “Mote, what in the devil’s name are you doing?” asked Ittonifer.

  “There will not be any spells cast. Today we saw the light. The Lord Almighty destroyed the devil’s image right before our eyes.”

  “What is this?”

  Mote stepped away from the other men and looked at both armies.

  “God delivered us from the deep witchcraft in which we had immersed ourselves. We no longer do evil, and are here to proclaim before everyone that our Lord and Savior is merciful and will deliver us from the snare of the devil.”

  Edandir could hardly believe what he was hearing. The men that had submitted themselves to Ittonifer’s religion for years were no longer servants of the devil. They were now calling on the Lord for help. And they were willing to die for Him?

  Maybe I am still dreaming. That guard knocked me out really hard back at the castle.

  On the other side of Ittonifer, Jalarn gaped at the robed men.

  It was a miracle, but Ittonifer still had a vast army on his side.

  Ittonifer drew his sword.

  “That means that you are no longer able to stop me. You are now useless fools, and I will kill you all myself!”

  As Ittonifer stalked toward Mote, the ground began to rumble. The earth split right in between Ittonifer and the cloaked men as the tremor continued.

  Edandir stood, ready to run if he needed to.

  Some of the Malinorian soldiers were running away.

  “What are you doing? You have the enemy right in your grasp!”

  The retreating men stopped when the earth before them opened up and blocked their path of escape. They scattered like a group of frightened mice.

  Edandir nearly laughed at the ridiculous sight.

  Quantity over quality.

  With Ittonifer and the guards distracted by the chaos, Edandir got up and ran to Jalarn.

  “Follow me.”

  Jalarn shook his head. He got up and bolted toward Ittonifer, who still had his back turned away from them.

  “No, Jalarn. Stop!” Edandir shouted.

  The lad threw his entire weight into his uncle. Ittonifer stumbled toward the earth’s opening, but quickly stopped himself. He lunged at his nephew. With Jalarn’s hands still bound, he was at an obvious disadvantage.

  Why had he done something so foolish?

  Edandir raced toward them.

  Ittonifer punched Jalarn in the face and pushed him over the edge of the great chasm.

  No!

  Ittonifer glared at Edandir for a moment with bloodshot eyes. Instead of driving his blade through the general, which he could have easily done, he turned and ran after his army.

  Jalarn had been so close to accepting the Lord. After everything that Talya had been through for the lad’s sake, Ittonifer had seen to it that he would never know Jesus.

  Edandir hung his head.

  “I’m sorry,” said Edandir.

  Edandir tried to shake off the melancholy that he felt for Jalarn. Talya was going to take his death badly. It was a tragedy, but Edandir had an army to lead.

  Sanctus had the upper hand for the time being. Ittonifer’s men were scared silly from that earthquake.

  “General!” called Tanel.

  Edandir met Tanel at the base of the hill. The young archer used his sword to slice the thick rope that bound Edandir’s hands.

  “Thank you.”

  Edandir looked over his remaining army. They seemed every bit as passionate as they had been when they started early that morning.

  Edandir raised his sword to the sky.

  “Men and women of Sanctus, prepare for victory by God’s mighty hand! Do not lose faith, lest your enemy use it as a foothold. Declare the Scriptures as you fight.”

  The archers and sword fighters cheered. They charged through the mud after the distracted Malinorians.

  Ittonifer’s men were spooked by the earthquakes for now, but it wouldn’t be long before they regained their confidence and fought back with a vengeance.

  Chapter Twenty

  The heavy rain had soaked through Queen Roselyn’s cloak by the time they reached General Edandir’s camp. Uittan had told her nothing the entire way there. They dismounted from their dragon steed, and she followed him into a small, white tent.

  Inside was a girl, asleep on a thickly blanketed bed. Several bandages were bound tightly around her limbs. A surgeon was feeling her pulse.

  Edandir nodded at Queen Roselyn and Uittan.

  “Your Majesty. Prophet.”

  “How is she?” asked Uittan.

  “Her body has grown weaker every hour,” he said.

  “Can we be alone with her for a moment?” asked Uittan.

  The surgeon nodded solemnly and left the tent.

  “Why, it’s Talya!” cried Queen Roselyn.

  “She is the knight with whom I wanted to speak when I came to Sanctus with you. She has completed the mission that God called upon her to do, but at a great cost. If only I had been so faithful when I was that age.”

  “Is she going to be alright?” asked Roselyn.

  Uittan did not answer.

  Roselyn felt guilty for hiding safely away in Sanctus while soldiers and knights far younger than she were risking their lives for their God and country. She hoped that Edandir’s daughter would pull through. He would be heartbroken a second time if Talya passed away.

 
; Uittan placed the sack that he had been carrying at the foot of Talya’s bed. He laid his hand on her forehead and prayed in a tongue that Roselyn had never heard before. He did so for several minutes.

  Roselyn knelt down, placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and prayed silently.

  Uittan stopped and smiled at Roselyn.

  “Thank you for praying with me,” he said.

  “It is the least that I can do for her. I am her queen.”

  “We must be off again.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the battle.”

  *****

  Jalarn stood alone in a world of black. He could not even see his hands when he held them right in front of his face.

  “Jalarn…” hissed a familiar voice.

  It didn’t seem smooth or hypnotic this time. Instead, it was hideous and chilling. It was the devil, and this time Jalarn knew exactly what he was.

  Jalarn backed away from the voice, but it only came closer.

  “Jalarn!” shouted the wretched, raspy voice.

  I remember now. Ittonifer threw me down that chasm. I am… I must be… dead?

  This was it then. He would pay now for what he had done to so many innocent people, for not putting his faith in the Savior. It was over for him. He hoped that somehow he would have the strength to bear the agony and loneliness that he knew would torment him forever.

  Forever. Oh my God! I am a fool.

  Cold fingers clenched themselves around his arm, digging their sharp claws deep into his skin.

  “Come with me. The master has been waiting for you.”

  So, this is not the prince, then. I should have known.

  Jalarn couldn’t see it, but he imagined that the thing, whatever he was, was ugly and decaying.

  He felt hopeless.

  “Who are you?”

  “Surely you know. We were very close, you and I. I was the voice inside your head. Oh yessss. I occupied your young, strong body the day that the old warlock anointed you. We were one. The master had such high hopes for you. Pity. Though, you would have ended up here soon enough.”

  The evil spirit broke into mad laughter then, sending a chill through to Jalarn’s soul. That’s all he was now. A soul. Hell had been waiting to rip him from his body all that time. His life had been such a waste.

  The darkness never left, but scorching heat pressed into his body. They had to be standing at the outskirts of Sheol. Once they went through the gate, Jalarn knew that there was no going back. He wanted to fight the demon, but he was powerless. He could barely move. He felt so tired. He had never felt so weak in all of his life.

  A deep voice from somewhere above sang a soft, sad tune. Jalarn could not understand the words, but he instantly knew who was singing it. Suffocating sadness burned him from the inside.

  God had truly loved him. He had tugged on Talya’s heart to spare him in Hunter Forest. He had showed him the Bible verse in Talya’s scroll by turning it red. He had suffered for him on the cross. He had done all He could, but Jalarn still had not believed Him. It was too late.

  The cry grew louder. Jalarn was sure that it had reached the depths of hell. Jesus had lost one of His beloved. The weeping didn’t stop.

  The extent of what Jalarn had turned his back on hit him like a massive wave. This time, a loving voice whispered to him. Its closeness made him shake.

  “Oh, how I love you so, Jalarn.”

  The holy presence left him faster than a whiplash. Jalarn was alone.

  “I’m so, so very sorry.”

  The hopelessness of eternal death began to encircle him.

  Jalarn covered his face as he wept, trapped in his self-appointed everlasting prison.

  The demon at Jalarn’s side cackled, digging his claws deeper into Jalarn’s arm.

  No, no, no!

  *****

  The earth tremors had ceased. The Malinorians regrouped and charged back toward what remained of Sanctus’ army.

  The former magicians, protected by the large crack in the earth, continued to shout out Scriptures from The Great Scroll. It was clearer than ever that God’s power was far stronger than the devil’s magic. It was the reassurance that Edandir’s people needed.

  Edandir fought his way through ten more Malinorians and then caught a glimpse of Ittonifer. The man was stalking toward Tanel, whose back was turned. He was fending off two enemies with his sword. The young archer would not have a chance against a third swordsman, let alone an expert one.

  Edandir raced toward Tanel until a heavyset Malinorian blocked his path.

  “Tanel, look out behind you!” Edandir yelled.

  Tanel spun around and blocked Ittonifer’s powerful strike.

  “Lord, protect him.”

  Edandir focused his attention back to finishing off the large Malinorian in front of him.

  A dragon screeched from above the raging battle. Edandir squinted to make out who the two riders were. Uittan and Roselyn.

  What is she doing here?

  Edandir jabbed his enemy in the belly, sending him backward into the mud. He glanced back over to where Tanel and Ittonifer had been. Tanel was nowhere to be seen, but Ittonifer was on his way toward the place where Uittan and Roselyn had landed.

  It had been many years since she had seen him, but Roselyn knew that it was he coming for her. She recognized his solid form and determined walk even in the thick mist. She had hoped that this day would never come, but it had.

  Ittonifer was going to kill her.

  She looked desperately at Uittan.

  “Are we just going to stand here?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But we are unarmed! He will kill us.”

  She knew that he would. Killing was what Ittonifer did best. And there was nothing that he hated more than a traitor.

  Ittonifer was still several paces away, but his booming voice rattled her.

  “Roselyn!” called Ittonifer.

  Roselyn cowered behind Uittan. She thought that she had finally overcome the fear that plagued her for so long, but she had been wrong.

  “Do you honestly think that old man is going to protect you?”

  The prophet took a step toward Ittonifer.

  “Not by my own power, but by God’s.”

  Ittonifer laughed hollowly.

  “There is nothing that He can do that my lord’s power cannot do.”

  “You are very wrong.”

  Ittonifer glared menacingly at Roselyn. She backed up more, getting closer to the deep trench, while Uittan stepped forward still.

  “Trust in Me, daughter.”

  But no one has ever hurt me in the way that Ittonifer has. Now he is here to kill me.

  From across the depression in the earth, several cloaked men were shouting something. It sounded very familiar.

  “A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee.”

  Roselyn had heard that verse from the Great Scroll many times, but its revelation hit her like a tidal wave as God spoke gently to her spirit.

  “Believe that I will deliver you. Trust in My strength, not in your own. Fear not.”

  Roselyn took a deep breath and then slowly took her place beside Uittan.

  She faced her adversary as a strong queen should, ignoring her trembling legs. Along with the men, she began to quote the very same Scripture that the giant-slaying king of old had written of the Lord.

  Uittan, who had been silently praying up until that point, joined in and shouted with a loud voice. If God had saved them from the wolves, surely He would protect them from the wicked ruler.

  Ittonifer broke into a sprint, but the ground trembled and the air filled with the sound of drums and horns. Ittonifer stopped in his tracks and faced the direction of the noise.

  It was the first time that Roselyn had seen him ignore an easy kill like that. She squinted and stared at the horizon. It was another army, but they were wearing green capes. Her heart r
aced.

  “It’s Chira! They have come to help us!” she cried.

  Ittonifer yelled in rage. The traitorous dogs from Chira raced into the sea of Malinorians. He should have never trusted that king. No matter. Their army was small. Two thousand extra enemies couldn’t defeat the imperial army.

  Ittonifer spun around to face his wife. Roselyn had moved to higher ground with Uittan, but she was still staring at him with the same defiance that she had the first day he laid eyes on her. He never should have allowed himself to fall for the stubborn wench’s beauty.

  They stared at one another for several moments. With that prophet at her side, it was not likely that he would be able to get to her. His grimace turned into a smirk. If he couldn’t kill Roselyn, he would kill the one person that she would give her life for.

  His mind flashed to a place and time many years earlier. Over seventeen years ago, Ittonifer had sensed that Roselyn was plotting to leave him. But then she had become pregnant.

  It had been Roselyn’s worst fear that he would kill the baby if it were a female. As fate would have it, the child was a girl.

  Ittonifer had taken the infant from Roselyn’s fragile arms just moments after she had given birth. He brought the baby to the city’s butcher. Many Malinorian families brought their newborn daughters or malformed sons there. Babies were a delicacy among Malinor’s elite.

  When the moment came that the butcher was about to decapitate the child, Ittonifer stopped him. Ittonifer had realized then that Roselyn would hate him forever if he killed her firstborn. When he had returned to Roselyn’s room to tell her that their daughter had been spared, she had already fled his castle.

  He had decided to keep the child alive as a bargaining tool with other rulers and kings. He knew that she would grow up to be beautiful like her mother. It turned out that he had never needed her for that. He had simply taken the other countries by force. But it had been satisfying to know that Roselyn was alive somewhere, thinking that her daughter was dead all this time. She deserved at least that much pain for turning her back on him and leading a rebel country.

  Today, Ittonifer would finish the job that he should have done in the first place. Chrissa was no longer his daughter, but a traitor of his empire. Like her mother.