Read Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 2

  * * *

  The western coastline of Feldom shone with the last remnants of the setting sun's rays. Iara picked up the wicker basket containing the dry clothes that she had just collected and paused for a moment to rest in the cool ocean breeze. Her dark windswept hair blew out over her face and she smiled, taking pleasure in the peaceful calm of the sunset.

  A sudden scream brought her quickly out of her reverie and she turned to see a row of longboats upon the western beach. Weathered vessels that had seen many long years on the open sea. She narrowed her eyes to peer past the sun's glare and dropped her basket in fear. Miirvkin Raiders were streaming over the beach and had already entered her small village. It had been so many years since the Miirvkin had braved the rough waters of the Sea of Turmoil. In that time the defenceless towns scattered on the coastline had let their guard slip, hoping foolishly that perhaps the threat had left them for good.

  Iara knew that this was a false hope. A race as brutish and unconstrained as the Miirvkin could never lay dormant. Ever since she could remember, the fear of their attacks had weighed heavily on the minds of those who dwelt in the northern fishing villages. Brutal assaults that carried no warning and left no man, woman or child unharmed. The Miirvkin sent only their fiercest warriors over the sea. Hardened men whose sole ambition was to pillage the land of all that their own harsh homeland could not provide.

  The pealing of the warning bells soon filled the air, clanging violently in the small commune. It would alert the soldiers of the neighbouring city of Fenhelm to the village's plight. Iara, shaken from her trance, ran up the small hill. Her mind turned only to the small nursery in which she lived and worked; the children would have no protection from the savage whims of the raiders. She prayed that she could get them to safety in time.

  As she neared the simple stone cottage, the noise of the panicked villagers began to mingle with terrifying screams. An overpowering fear was beginning to take hold of her and she quickened her pace. The last attack that she could recall had been when she was a small girl. At that time she had been protected by her father. He had led Iara and her sisters out of the town swiftly enough. Yet that had been the last time she had ever seen her father. He had returned to aid those trapped in the village and paid for it with his life.

  The stone cottage appeared as she rounded a corner. Entering the nursery, she found the five babies under her care sleeping soundly in their cots and thanked the goddess Skiye that no one had found them yet. She called out to her maid frantically, but there was no response.

  Where could she be, she thought to herself uneasily.

  Iara knew she had little time. It would not be long before the raiders would find the nursery. If found, the babies would be taken and forced into slavery, or worse trained to be used as sport in barbaric games.

  Then, from the back room of the nursery, came the pound of heavy footsteps. Iara paused, her hands trembling and then her heart sank as a huge warrior, so tall that he was forced to stoop as he entered the room, walked into the light. His bronze skin glistened under the suit of thick leathers and exotic fur that covered his shoulders. Under his cold eyes was a thick sun-bleached beard.

  As quickly as she could Iara moved to the one cot where her own tiny baby boy, Thibalt, lay silently. She snatched him up. The warrior moved to grab her, but she slipped free of his powerful grasp as he struck his head on a beam above. She made for the doorway and grabbed the young boy sleeping in the cot next to the door, whilst the raider shook his dizzy head.

  Knowing there was little else she could do for the other children, Iara ran from the cottage, her heart racing.

  Rounding the corner, she ran as fast as she could down the street, hoping that the Raider would not follow. As she headed for the eastern end of the village, she risked a glance behind her and saw that the Raider had left the building in pursuit. The savage look of hunger in his eyes drove her forward. She was not ignorant of her fate should she fail to outrun her attacker. The few women who survived a Miirvkin raid were often worse for it than those who passed from this world during the brutal attacks.

  Yet with the Raider hard on her heels, she soon struggled to keep up the desperate pace at which she ran. The warning bells would bring aid to them, but it was no short distance from their village to Fenhelm. Iara realised that it would take some time before any soldiers would arrive to reinforce the village's meagre forces.

  She looked down at the two boys in her arms. Young Thibalt, her own son born only a few moons ago, looked up at her, innocently unaware of what was happening around him. In so many ways he already resembled her with his chestnut hair and full face. The blonde child in her other arm, Thibalt's younger half brother, Christill, still slept soundly. Iara had promised herself that she would care for Christill after his mother, Lissi, had not made it through his birth. She had loved Lissi as a sister, despite the infidelities that had brought Christill into this world and knew that Thibalt would be better off in life with a brother. Especially so because their father had abandoned them.

  The cobblestone street that she followed soon turned right and rose to a steep incline. Iara struggled with the two boys and knew that it would not be long before her pursuer caught up. From her left came a loud scream, but she could not bare to look.

  Despair filled Iara's mind and she wept at the thought of losing Thibalt and Christill. The warning bells then came to a stop leaving only the awful sounds of struggle echoing through the village. She turned to see how far away her attacker was and in her haste tripped on a raised stone in the road. Iara managed to turn just enough to shield the children from the fall, but in the process slammed her head on the hard ground. Her vision swam as the two boys rolled from her grip onto the ground and began to wail.

  She made out the shape of the Raider standing above her, but the darkness enveloping her mind proved too strong. Her final thought was of her son, who's crying grew fainter with each passing moment.