Record of Ashes War

Chapter 24 - A King Without

The air was heavy with the stench of blood. Theo crinkled his nose as his eyes opened. His head throbbed from every side. He tried squinting and failed with one eye. Dried blood at the side of his head had robbed his skin of its flexibility. He pushed himself off the ground and spat out a mixture of phlegm and blood. Mostly blood. A sharp ache in his shoulder told him that it was dislocated. He grit his teeth and snapped it back into place.

The sky glowed with the amber hue of late evening. Theo coughed as he sat up on his knees, taking in the scene around him. Parts of his body pulsed with pain. He wondered how many bones were fractured. Or broken. How many days he'd have to spend bedridden again once he returned to Qalydon. If I return. Hundreds of dead pirates and Xenarians lay all around him. The rocky shores opposite the town of Kovar had been stained red. The battle was over. And it was lost. Many of the Silver Serpents were still about, rummaging torn clothes for valuables. Their leader was among the ones alive.

Dhorjun stared at Theo curiously from his position away from the corpse ridden rock bed. It isn't over until I'm dead, Theo thought. He clenched his fists, expecting them to tighten around the hilt of his cutlasses. They just curled into a ball. His hazy vision desperately searched the field for a pair of swords. He wasn't sure he was even capable of wielding them anymore. He just knew that he needed to. He needed to stand once more. For Qalydon. For Xenaria. For Tilda and Trauvel. Where was Eildred?

Theo found a single cutlass. Not his own. It lay in the hand of a severed arm. One of the pirates. He crawled towards the body on all fours, knowing how pitiful he must have looked. Movement at the edge of his vision told him that Dhorjun was walking towards him, cudgel in hand. Theo could barely feel his own heartbeat. He didn't fear or panic. Or perhaps he was too weak to feel or do either. Regardless, he pried free the cutlass and stood up with shaky legs, violent aches clawing at many points. He took a step forward and raised his arm towards Dhorjun. The pirate flicked the weapon aside with his own and struck Theo with a massive fist. He fell back. The world around him spun. His head throbbed even harder.

"Stay down, Theodore," Dhorjun boomed, his deep voice like a crash of thunder too close for comfort.

Theo blinked away the fog in his eyes. He looked at the spiked cudgel in Dhorjun's hand. It didn't even look damaged, let alone stained with blood. The Black Fanged Reaver had won the battle without having to lift a finger. Without having to participate. The coward! Theo felt his face grow hot. Once more, he stood up, knees buckling like a newborn fawn. Dhorjun looked at him in pity. Flames burn you! Don't you look at me like that! Don't you dare look at me as if you regret your actions!

"I told you he'd come here, did I not?" another man said as he came to stand beside the black maned pirate.

A bald man with a thin goatee and a long brown coat. Hawthorne, Dhorjun's quartermaster. Or Crow as he was better known. He was nicknamed the Man with a Hundred Plans. A conniving bastard with sharp wit. So it was his trap that the Xenarians had fallen into…

"Yes. You did," Dhorjun said. He stretched out his hand. "Join me, Theodore. It'd be a shame to see a man like yourself wither away so soon."

Theo opened his mouth but only gurgled sounds came out. He coughed again. His sword arm went up. Dhorjun caught it before it could come down. An underhanded blow was delivered into Theo's gut. He went limp. He could feel his consciousness fading. For some reason, his heartbeat was clear now. It beat against his chest like sailors marching down gangplanks after a long journey. Marching hard and fast to return to their families or jump into brothels. The harbor of Qalydon was so beautiful. Tilda's irritated but yet relieved expression even prettier.

Theo blinked. Dhorjun's hideous black beard brought him back to reality. The sound of his own heart still resounded in the confines of his skull, slowly fading with each beat like an echo bouncing along a lengthy canyon. "Burn you…" he breathed.

"We should get going," Hawthorne said. "Eksa's bought more time than I expected. But she's likely sunk by now. A shame. Her ship had some strong young men."

"You underestimate her, Crow. That girl is as good as they come. Blessed in both mind and body. If anyone's capable of weaseling their way through multiple warships, it's her. You underestimated Theodore as well. Look how many dead we have. We've lost much of our number."

Theo's head sank. Eksa. The factor that seemed to have delayed Eildred enough to end Xenaria's chance at reclaiming the island. The poor girl, Theo thought. Sold as a slave. Freed by a piece of Flaming trash. And now forced into piracy. What a waste of talent. She probably wasn't long for the world. Not with these Scorching bastards. A lone girl amidst men like them. How long before they broke her?

"It matters not," Crow said. "The fall of Admiral Theodore will have many weaker minds flocking to us. The Aegis Basin belongs to us now. Four nations dancing at our feet. I'll admit. Watching him cut through our men with twin blades made me envious." Crow bent down to meet Theo's eyes. "But, I'll bet a thousand gold crowns that you're envious of my cunning."

Theo glared at him. Heat returned to his limbs. His heart quickened. He knew it. His life was at an end. Not even a Healer could bring him back. But he'd make his end worth remembering. He wasn't going to die for nothing. His fingers twitched.

"Keep on glaring then," Crow continued with a repulsive smirk. "Fat lot of good that—"

Theo lunged at him. He tackled Hawthorne to the ground while howling. It came out like a ghastly wail. He couldn't inhale. He had a single breath to get vengeance before death. He heard something snap as he mounted atop his foe. Crow's eyes went wide. His left knee had broken. The man thrashed about with his arms, trying to force Theo off of him. Theo shrugged everything aside. This was his final struggle. He had but one purpose. He raised his own hands, preparing to beat Hawthorne to death. But his damaged hands refused to make a proper fist. No! Flames no! Not yet Creator! Let me last a little longer!

Theo grit his teeth. His lungs burned with the desire to suck in air. He brought one hand down and poked into Crow's left eye. "I'll take… your eyes," he croaked as he gouged out one eye ball and prepared to take the other. Hawthorne screamed. And Theo heard it, though faintly. He allowed himself to smile.

A spiked object arced toward the side of his head. Time slowed. He hadn't enough of it to take Hawthorne's other eye. But he was satisfied. He had imagined his death differently. He thought he would have been laid to rest in a crypt while his descendants sung songs for him. At least he'd die hearing a song. A song of screams. Dhorjun's cudgel struck him and he fell back. The right side of his face was smashed in. He lost half of his vision and hearing. But everything else was suddenly clear. The orange sky. The gulls and crows above. The sound of those beautiful screams. Hawthorne was sitting upright, covering his empty eye socket while backing away from Theodore in fear. His intact eye held a glare but his actions and whimpering revealed his true nature.

Theo's voice returned to him. "Keep glaring. You sound like a bitch," he said, spending his precious final breath with those words. A rich and expensive sentence, that. Aye, a rich and expensive sentence. I'm sorry Tilda. He'd already spent his words and could only afford her a fleeting thought. His final act was a poor purchase.

Not exactly a model husband, he thought just as the sky went dark and the spiked cudgel fell upon his face with a horrid crunch.

***

"Hold your fire!" Eildred called. Signal horns blared to notify the other vessels. Every iron bolt fired at the smaller ship missed by narrow margins. It maneuvered through the unstable waters with ease, conquering dangerously high waves while using them to avoid Xenarian ballistae fire. The ship was closing in from the rear. Eildred was at his wits end. He didn't know what to do. He had no experience in naval combat. "Have three vessels break off and surround that ship. The rest continue to Kovar!" Theodore's captains can manage, right?

A series of horns sounded once more as the orders were relayed to the fleet. Three ships broke off as was asked. Eildred prayed for it to be enough. He searched wildly for any sign of other enemies. It was impossible to imagine that a single smaller ship had felled five warships on its own.

He kept watch on the situation unfolding behind him. The three Xenarian vessels easily surrounded the shorter pirate ship. Too easily. It happened too quickly. The warships were too tall to aim their ballistae at their adversary. They had to stay a measured distance away to make sure the ranged weapons would hit.

The black flagged ship cozied up to one of the warships. It used its own ballistae to riddle its adversary with holes before moving on the next Xenarian vessel. The other Xenarians couldn't return fire. It was already hard to aim at a shorter vessel. And the pirates made the threat of friendly fire very real by staying so close to their target enemy. One by one, all three warships were outmaneuvered and beaten. Their pace slowed as they began filling up with water and slowly sinking. The pirate ship came out with minor holes in their sails.

This can't be happening. The soldiers aboard his ship stared at the scene in awe while the sailors from Qalydon looked to their highest commanding officer for further instructions. He had six ships remaining out of the nine Theodore had entrusted him with. Warships were hard to build. And expensive. More so given the sheer amount House Coraine had spent to build such a powerful and well equipped fleet. Something that had backfired terribly. No one should have been fool enough to challenge these vessels with a ship less than half the size. And yet, these pirates were making it work, using size to their advantage. Our ballistae can't be maneuvered into aiming at that vessel's frame…

A design flaw caused by hubris. Artillery might have been placed below deck to counteract the flaw, but who would oppose such vessels? You didn't imagine the unexpected, Theo, and neither did your builders it seems.

Eildred had a decision to make. One that he couldn't make lightly. Dahlia had entrusted him with the reclamation of Kovar. Theodore had entrusted him to destroy the pirates. And every man aboard the remaining six ships trusted him to make the appropriate decision. The decision that would lead to them seeing the sun rise the next day. The decision that would allow them to live and return home to whoever's loving arms. He closed his eyes, seeing the waving handkerchiefs lined up before Qalydon's harbor. Retreat? He heard Tilda's request. Retreat means abandoning Lord Coraine…

Eildred curled his fists into a ball and sighed aloud. "Send two vessels to Kovar's rear to call and escort Admiral Theodore back to Qalydon. The rest of us are turning around. We're retreating! Avoid that small ship at all costs!"

Horns relayed the orders. Two ships broke off from the formation while the other four turned around. No one complained. The sailors were upset. Their broken pride was written all over there clenched fists and quivering lips. The soldiers were anxious, each one shuffling within their ranks and fumbling with their weapon hilts, wondering whether they would fight, or sink before even having the chance.

"Head towards the sinking vessels," Eildred ordered. His muscles stiffened with the thought of facing those he'd promised. For the first time, the Thundersword tasted defeat in a battle. What would he tell Tilda if Theodore didn't return? What would he tell Dahlia when he returned a failure and only added to the stress she was already suffering from? "We'll pull up as many survivors as we can! Load the artillery. Zone the pirates away from us."

Eildred glared at the scarlet serpent on the black flag. He swore vengeance under his breath. He hoped a stray bolt would catch the ship in its side and sink it before his eyes at that very moment. To his surprise, the pirates actively avoided the retreating Xenarians. It made sense. A single small ship. Their purpose was to keep the Xenarians away from Kovar and they'd succeeded. They had no reason to engage any further.

Men aboard the sinking warships cried for aid. Eildred assigned three of the retreating vessels to aid three of the sinking ones while The Salamander acted as a rearguard. It was the most he could do.

Cracks began appearing within the shrouded ceiling. Clouds moved along towards the west and the skies were filled with the glow of an evening sun. Eildred kept his chin up. There'd be another opportunity. As long as everyone left standing made it back to land safely, another opportunity would come. Once the Trillian threat was dealt with, the Aegis Basin could be reclaimed. After that, Xenaria would finally focus her full attention towards the Tarmian Empire. "Another opportunity," he muttered. Thousands have already perished. For the first time ever, his dauntless armor felt heavy and useless, like it belonged in a circus than on a battlefield. They made a mockery of me and the Xenarian fleet.

"Sir Aegis! The pirates! They’re coming back!"

Eildred whipped around. The small vessel was returning. The Xenarians were still in the middle of rescuing their sinking allies. They were immobile and vulnerable. The soldiers hurried to fire the artillery. They were unpracticed and, in their panic, fumbled their aim. Every bolt went wide of its target. The pirates closed in, cozying up to the Salamander's side. Soldiers and sailors alike backed away from the edge of the ship. All stood mute, eyes wide and mouths open. They waited for the inevitable. For the sounds of iron bolts puncturing through the wood of their ship. Not a single thing could be done.

"Stand firm!" Eildred howled, trying his best to restore morale. He wouldn't let everything end so easily. He unstrapped his heavy Queen's Guard armor and mentally prepared to jump down to the enemy vessel, hoping to slay as many as fate would allow. Hoping the soldiers would follow after him. With any luck, they might fell the pirates and turn their attention towards Kovar once more with the three remaining warships.

For whatever reason, the pirates were not firing. Eildred had finished shedding his armor and marched to the edge of the deck. He paused. Hooks had been thrown over the side. No one had noticed it in their panic. The sea bandits were trying to board The Salamander. One by one, they came over the edge. They're planning to take the ship for themselves.

The first person over was a young girl with a head of flame. She looked of similar age to the princess. Eildred hesitated. Honor bade him to reconsider attacking her. That hesitation didn't go unnoticed. The girl ran at him, cutlass in hand, a mixed bag of snarling fighters not far from her heels.

Eildred was forced to block a quick slash from an improper position. The impact upon his longsword hardly registered. There was no weight behind the attack. The red haired girl glared at him. He forced her back with a single arm and she fell on her rear. Girl or not, she was an enemy of the crown. If they were willingly boarding, then he could kill them here and resume the attack on Kovar.

Eildred narrowed his eyes as he prepared to thrust his weapon through her chest. Forgive me young one. I don't know what your circumstances are, but I'll have you die here.

A blur whizzed toward his side. Eildred raised his sword, barely deflecting a knife thrown his way. Had he not stripped himself of his armor, a knife would merely have bounced off of him. He rolled up the sleeves of his plain shirt before taking a proper stance.

The girl was pulled up by a dark haired boy of similar age. He wore a long dark coat that seemed an inch or two too large for him. He forced her behind him and stared down Eildred. In his hand was a single edged blade with spikes running down its spine. "What madness has driven children to piracy?" Eildred said, lunging toward his opponent.

"As if you'd ever understand!" the boy replied.

Their weapons clashed with equal force. Eildred was shocked. The boy had a smaller frame, was a half head shorter, and was using a single handed weapon. Yet he didn't back down a single inch. He struck with equal speed and strength. No. Greater speed and strength. I'm being pushed back? Eildred glanced at the boy's arm. The veins in his sword hand wrist bulged unnaturally. His blade was some manner of a magical Artifact.

It didn't matter. Even if the boy was stronger, he was not as experienced. His skills were crude. Eildred deftly stepped to the boy's side and swung using both hands. The attack was slow, easily parried, but the force behind it made the boy to stagger back several feet. Eildred's hand flashed forward. He was named the Thundersword. Most people assumed the name to have stemmed from his absurd strength. But no. That name came from a skill used to fell many a man on a battlefield. A blinding thrust that he only ever used when meaning to kill quickly. The thrust was aimed at the dark haired boy's exposed neck. There was fear in his greyish eyes. He knew he wouldn't avoid it.

"Aaron!" the flame haired girl called.

Eildred's flickering gaze caught a glimpse of her running towards him. She was too far to reach him. His thrust reached its full length and… missed? He found himself on the ground on one knee. Someone had tripped him. Someone he'd failed to notice. He caught a glimpse of a man dressed in black with a black cloth covering his face. It couldn't be… A Shadow Walker?

He didn't have time to think. The flame haired girl aimed to cleave his neck in two. He kicked her legs and caused her to fall on top of him with a grunt. Eildred pushed her off and got back on his feet, staring down the three enemies before him. The situation didn't bode well for the Xenarians. They were getting pushed back. The ship rocked with the waves, making the soldiers stumble. They weren't used to fighting on open waters. Eildred himself had to take a wider stance to keep his stability. Three on one. Betting odds on any other field against any other enemy. These opponents, children though they were, had Artifacts and a Shadow Walker amongst them. Another knife was thrown towards him from his right. He ducked beneath it. It had come from a blond man wearing a jester's mask. Eildred clicked his tongue, feeling slightly more threatened now. Four on one.

"You are a knight, yes?" the boy named Aaron asked.

Strange question for a pirate. "Eildred Aegis. Captain of the Queen's Guard."

"Queen's Guard… How ironic. You three stay out of this," Aaron said. "He's mine."

Eildred's eyes narrowed. Most of the pirates had already boarded The Salamander. The soldiers once outnumbered them more than two to one. But those numbers were more or less even now. Bad footing coupled with fear had been their downfall. Blood flowed upon the wooden boards of the deck. Bodies littered it as piles of dregs left unattended.

Odd as it was, the children before Eildred seemed to be the leaders of the sea faring raiders. "Boy. You can't beat me on your own," Eildred taunted. A duel, as dishonorable as it was against an untrained child, would be in his favor. He could make quick work of his enemies that way. Baiting the lad into getting emotional was the fastest path to victory.

Aaron laughed in what appeared as sarcasm. "Is this what you call a knight's honor?" He charged towards Eildred. He swung in a wide arc, leaving himself open to retaliation. Eildred let it happen, holding his ground and parrying the blow. A violent clang of metals resounded. Eildred grit his teeth and staggered back, muscles vibrating from the increased strength of the blow. "Your honor died when my mother died!" Aaron cried. He continued with his wide armed swings, each one heavier and faster than the last. "How about now, Sir Aegis? Am I worth fighting alone now?"

"No," Eildred hissed as he stepped in and grabbed Aaron by the side of his head with his thick hand and shoved him to the floorboards. Eildred meant to follow up. He was going to put an end to this delirious child. One that had no doubt somehow been hurt by Xenarians. But his allies all charged at the same time. The blond one threw knives at him while cackling like a mad man. The black clothed one disappeared into the shadows. The flame haired girl screamed while running straight at him again like an angered boar. Eildred deflected a knife while dodging two others. He kicked the girl in the gut and then spun around to attack the Shadow Walker that reappeared behind him.

Aaron had gotten up again, his eyes burning with hate. He lunged forward, thrusting his weapon at Eildred's chest. The armorless knight side stepped the attack and delivered an elbow to the boy's jaw, putting him back on the ground. As if you'd catch me with my own signature move.

The blond one leapt towards him with a raised fist. Eildred brought his sword hand up to retaliate. The fist struck him first and he staggered back, astonished at the strength of a mere fist. The Shadow Walker jumped out of the shadows again, this time wielding two blades and thrusting upwards. Eildred roared as he deflected them with his own sword, wielding the great blade with one arm only and using his free hand to deliver an underhanded blow straight at the Shadow Walker's solar plexus, forcing him to fall on his knees and gasp for breath. The blond man was preparing to strike again and Eildred was ready for it. He grunted and went down on one knee as something sharp pierced his thick thigh. The flame haired girl had stabbed him with her thin cutlass. Even then, the Thundersword could not be felled. He ducked under the masked man's wide armed swing, dropping his sword in the process. The masked blond continued to cackle. Eildred lunged towards him, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, and picked the man up before tossing him into the girl, sending them both tumbling.

Eildred's heart pounded against his chest. His breaths were quick and heavy. Youthful vigor filled him as adrenaline flooded his veins. Despite the dire situation, he was finding a certain thrill within this battle. A thrill he'd always longed for. The kind that came from being pushed to the utmost limit of his abilities. Though fighting against four, he felt as if for once he were standing on equal grounds.

The boy named Aaron was back on his feet. Eildred, now unarmed, prepared for the inevitable rush. Instead, Aaron threw his sword. Eildred flinched, unable to react to the blinding speed of the throw. The blade went wide but it was enough of a distraction. Aaron quickly closed the distance between them and stopped just a few feet short of his target, delivering a low kick to the wound on the knight's leg, forcing him down on one knee.

"That's a more fitting position for you," Aaron said. He formed a fist and struck Eildred's jaw.

Eildred fell on his back, head bouncing against the wood of the deck. White light flashed before his eyes. He felt blood roll down his nose. Instinct took hold of him and he roared, flailing his arms and rising up again. Aaron kicked him back down. The Shadow Walker retrieved Aaron's sword for him. He held its tip at Eildred's throat. "You've lost, Sir Aegis. Your honor is more dead than it had been before."

Eildred looked around. The battle was lost. Most of the soldiers were either dead, or thrown overboard. The sailors, gathered around in a tight circle, were held hostage alongside a few disarmed soldiers. His heart still pounded. Energy still coursed through him despite the growing ache in his head. Concussion?

There, lying on his back, a hundred thoughts swirled through his mind. Most impactful of all was his failure. What good was a thrilling battle if you lost in the end? Especially one where losing mattered. One where losing would mean losing permanently, would mean failing every man that had trusted him to guide them, every wife, sister, and mother that had trusted him to return their loved ones home. Would mean failing Dahlia. His honor truly was dead. Forgive me, your Majesty.

"Bet Dhorjun and Crow are going to be real shocked when we bring back The Salamander of all ships," the girl said, huffing.

The dark haired boy stood still. His blade inched closer to Eildred's throat. It pierced skin and drew blood. "No…" he said in a tone of resignation. Aaron pulled his sword away. He sheathed the blade and turned around. "We're leaving."

"What?!" the girl cried. "Are you mad? We need this ship. I want this ship!" she said, shaking her fists and stomping on the deck like an ill-mannered child.

"I said no!"

"And what gives you the right? I'm the Flaming captain of the Scarlet Reaver. We're taking this ship and that's final!" the girl said. "We deserve a proper reward after all our victories today!"

"Our victory over their entire navy is reward enough!" Aaron said.

"Not hearing it. If you won't kill him, I will," the girl declared. She marched towards Eildred, hardly soiled cutlass in hand. Only its tip had tasted blood when piercing Eildred's thigh. The jester stepped in between her. "Move!" she demanded. "Flaming move!" She shoved him as hard as she could. Eildred looked around. The pirates bore confused frowns seeing their captain struggle with their own.

"Eksa," Aaron said calmly. "We're leaving. Let's go."

The girl screamed and stomped off. She ordered a retreat and returned to her own ship via the hooked rope. The surviving Xenarians breathed sighs of relief and muttered amongst each other.

Only the dark haired boy, and the jester remained from among the pirates. The Shadow Walker was missing, likely hiding again. Eildred got back on his feet. He remained cautious, shifting his feet to take a ready stance, though unarmed. His sword lay a few feet away. The few standing soldiers looked to him for orders. "Why bother for a return attack if you aren't going to take the ship?" Eildred asked.

Aaron sighed again, eyes fixed upon the deep orange horizon. "I don't know. I guess we were going to take the ship."

"And something changed your mind?"

"I don’t know," he repeated.

Eildred wondered if it was right to press further or to just let them leave. "Why not just sink us then?" he asked, curiosity winning out. He wanted to know this boy's circumstance. Wanted to know how children like him descended into a life of malice. Was he an unfortunate orphan from the capital's Impoverished District? Or perhaps a villager whose family was abused by local lords? Whatever the case, he didn't seem a lost cause. He had mercy and kindness left within him yet. Eildred was living proof of that.

"We ran out of ammunition," Aaron said. "Had you continued to chase us instead of calling for a retreat, you would have won, Sir Aegis." He met Eildred's eyes. "Go home, Son of Xenaria." He began walking away.

"Boy… Who are you really?" Aaron paused. He turned around Flames dancing in his eyes. Not a reflection of light. The sunset was behind him. Literal amber flames danced within the dark of his eyes.

"I am your king," came the reply.

Every word was said with a regal authority. A heavy breeze caused Aaron's short dark hair and coat to gently sway. He was a living portrait. A figure destined for greatness, but imprisoned within the confines of his own overwhelming shadow. Flames in his eyes. Air of authority. Shadow Walkers and other beings of absurd power and strength following after him…

The deranged ramblings during their brief bout made sense at last. What stood before Eildred was a Flame Bearer, a prince of the old Xenarian Empire. A survivor of High House Zz'tai.