AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Gritting his teeth, he bent and scooped up his sword with his left hand. He stalked to Drurvas, forcing the last bit of strength into his legs and arm.
Drurvas tried to lift his ax, but it was far heavier than Rharreth’s sword, and he only managed a half-hearted swing at Rharreth that ended when the ax thudded against the rock a few inches from Rharreth’s foot.
Rharreth raised his sword. He did not have the energy for any fancy speech. Nor was he the type to gloat. He took no enjoyment in this moment, for all Drurvas had betrayed him and tried to kill him several times now. Laesornysh had saved Rharreth from having to kill his own father or brother. But it turned out, for the good of Kostaria, he could not avoid having the blood of family on his hands.
Putting all his remaining strength behind his swing, Rharreth sliced his sword across Drurvas’s throat and stumbled backwards as his cousin’s body slumped forward, falling in a heap on his ax.
Rharreth glanced around, taking in the two armies that were shouting at each other, weapons drawn. In front of the elf-human army, Princess Elspeth had crackling bolts of Laesornysh’s magic twining around her.
A few yards away, Laesornysh dropped to the ground as a troll fell dead at his feet. The other troll warrior lay in a heap beyond that, also clearly dead.
Still gripping his sword, Rharreth pressed his hand to his shoulder, calling on his magic and filling the wound full of ice. It would temporarily stop the bleeding until he had a chance to have Melantha look at the gash.
But not yet. The trolls who had supported Drurvas were howling and a few had started charging forward, as if intending to start the war again right then and there. Rharreth’s army closed around Melantha and brandished their weapons.
No, Rharreth couldn’t allow a war to break out now. The Dulraith was supposed to prevent bloodshed, not escalate it.
Facing the trolls who had betrayed him, Rharreth strode forward as steadily as possible, trying to stave off the dizziness caused by pain and blood loss. He raised his sword in his left hand. “Warriors of Kostaria! The ancient test of the Dulraith has spoken! I have fought and bled and proved my worthiness as your king. I am Rharreth, the last of the royal warrior family of Regdrir, and by the right of blood and battle, I demand your loyalty.”
The warriors facing him halted in their tracks, though they still gripped their weapons. A silence fell upon the armies once again.
To the side, Laesornysh still gripped one of his swords, crouched as if he wasn’t sure if his skills would be called on yet. His human brother-in-law, Prince Julien, stood by him, also still hefting his sword.
One of the older troll warriors stepped forward, his gaze sweeping from Rharreth to Laesornysh, then the gathered troll, elf, and human army arrayed behind him. The warrior flexed his fingers on his sword. “You have won the Dulraith, but you still show your weakness as you need elves and humans to stand with you. You are no true troll.”
Rharreth would have shaken his head, but the movement would make him too dizzy. Instead, he met the warrior’s gaze and gestured toward Laesornysh. “We have all witnessed Laesornysh fight, both with and without magic. Time and again, he has single-handedly defeated the best that Kostaria has to offer. If he were a troll, he would be our most respected and revered warrior, as he is for the elves. It is strength, not weakness, to recognize the strength in others.”
The warriors across from him did not relax, though they did not resume their charge either. Perhaps bringing up Laesornysh was not the best route to go. For all that he was an impressive warrior, it would take much to erase the hatred that the troll warriors held for him.
Instead, Rharreth waved behind him toward the combined army. “We trolls have always appreciated strength and honor. Together, Tarenhiel and Escarland defeated the best we could muster in a mere week, and that was while we held Laesornysh captive and used Escarlish weapons against them. If the last war was a Dulraith, then Escarland and Tarenhiel defeated us soundly. Honor now demands that we humble ourselves beneath the outcome. From here on, there will be no more war with Tarenhiel, but peace.”
The troll warrior tightened his grip on his sword, taking a step forward. His jaw went hard, his eyes flashing. “You dare compare what they did to Kostaria to a sacred Dulraith? Perhaps it is time for a new royal warrior family, if this is what the family of Regdrir has come to after all these centuries.”
Rharreth gripped his sword tighter, standing alone between the two halves of his people. He had fought the Dulraith and won. What else could he do to prove himself to his people? Would his kingdom always be torn in half?
Farrendel faced theangry army of troll warriors. His whole side and stomach hurt, and stabbing pain shot through him each time he breathed.
Julien stood behind him and to the side, his left arm still dangling as uselessly as Rharreth’s right, though, like Rharreth, Julien still brandished his sword in his good arm.
Farrendel gritted his teeth and felt a snarl working its way up his throat. This Dulraith was supposed to solve the problem. Rharreth had won, and still these trolls refused to recognize his strength to be king. What fools. Did they think they had something to gain out of continuing the war with Tarenhiel?
Heat built in Farrendel’s chest and worked its way into his fingers as he drew on his magic, letting it build inside him. He had followed their rules. He had fought their Dulraith. And yet they had still attacked him.
There would be no more war. Farrendel was done fighting a never-ending, senseless war along this border because these trolls were too foolish to know when they were beaten. Farrendel had a life to build. He had classes to take at Hanford University. He had Essie and the children they might have someday.
This war ended today whether the trolls liked it or not.
“Enough!” Farrendel released the magic building inside him and sent it toward the rebel trolls. As much as it would be easiest to kill them all now, Rharreth and Melantha would never forgive him. Nor would he forgive himself.
Instead, he raced his magic along the ground, tossing all of the trolls off their feet. He pinned them to the ground, coating them with a sizzling layer of his magic. A few cried out as his magic brushed their skin.
He steeled himself against the sound and pressed his magic tighter. They were helpless. With a mere tightening of his hand, a blaze of his magic, he could snuff out their lives in a second.
Fear. He could taste it. Sense it beating against the bolts of his magic.
Good.
These rebel trolls had to cower. They would never love him. Never forgive him for those he had killed in the wars. But they would fear him, and, perhaps, some would even respect him for his power. They had to see how utterly foolhardy it would be to challenge him and his magic ever again.
