Soldier Saved
Table of Contents
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Author’s Note
Also by D.K. Holmberg
Soldier Saved
The Teralin Sword
D.K. Holmberg
ASH Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by D.K. Holmberg
Cover art by Damonza
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Author’s Note
Also by D.K. Holmberg
Map
1
Endric made his way up the ramp leading to the second terrace within the city of Vasha. The bustle within the city was no different than it had been the last time he was here, which seemed so long ago, but much had changed. The city had a vibrancy, a sense of life, but an air of pomp to it that Endric had never been fully aware of before. His head throbbed from days spent riding, pushing the Antrilii horse as hard as he could as he made his way south. There had been a time when traveling as long as he had and for as hard as he had would have made him incredibly tired, saddle sore, and achy. Time spent in the Antrilii lands, time spent hiking through the mountains, attempting to stay alive, had hardened him in ways that even his Denraen training had not.
It had been nearly a year since he had been in Vasha. A year since he had slept in what had once been his bed. A year in which he had sought to understand how to balance the parts of him that were Antrilii with the parts of him that were Denraen. In that time, he had come to understand the Antrilii and had helped restore a certain unity among the clans, all while trying to understand himself. Were it not for a summons from Tresten, he might not have returned as soon.
Now he understood that he had to be both Denraen and Antrilii. He was not one or the other, and he never could be. Surprisingly, he felt that his father had failed in attempting to separate himself in such a way. There had once been a time when Endric would never have suspected his father to have any failings, but first with Andril, and then with the Antrilii, Endric had begun to understand that his father was not infallible.
And now he would see Dendril again. Was he ready for it?
He didn’t know. After his time away, he had begun to question whether he could return, but if he didn’t, he would be as much an oathbreaker as what the Antrilii had believed his father to be.
Returning wasn’t as easy as he had anticipated that it would be. Not only was he different, but so was his perception of the city. In addition to the noise, the city had a distinctive odor to it. There was the bite of the cool northern wind, gusting in off the northern mountain chain. Vasha was not snowcapped like so many of the neighboring mountains were. The teralin found deep within the mountains ensured that.
The ore had a distinctive odor, one which added to the breeze that he detected, filling the air with it. Much of the northern chain smelled similarly. It made him miss and long for the smells of Farsea, that of the Antrilii lands, and the rolling grasses and the forests that led up and into the mountains. There was a certain peace in those scents. Would he ever know them again?
As he made his way along the ramp leading to the next level within the city, he hesitated. It was nice to be home, and he missed the city, but not nearly as much as he once would have expected. More than the city, he missed his friends. It had been a year since he had seen Senda. Would she understand the time that he’d been away? He suspected Pendin would, but maybe he’d be as angry as Senda. What of his father? What reaction would Dendril have following his return?
His father had allowed him to travel north and had agreed that Endric needed time to understand his Antrilii connections, but it would have been a difficult time for the Denraen. Listain had died, leaving a leadership void. Someone would’ve had to have filled that void, though Endric had not been here to be a part of it. Would Senda have stepped up to fill in for her uncle? Listain had made it seem as if Endric had exposed Senda and her connection to him, but Endric wasn’t certain that mattered. What mattered was the mind and the ability to determine the next course of action, taking all the different pieces of information and putting them together. That was something that Listain had done better than almost anyone. Possibly better than even Endric’s father.
He took a deep breath before patting the side of the horse. The Antrilii steed was a sleek gray stallion, trained by the best horse masters of the Antrilii. He had been fast and sturdy, and yet he seemed to recognize Endric’s desire to enter the city more slowly.
Not stealthily.
He doubted he could enter stealthily, even if he were to want to. The Denraen guarding the city gate would have already sent word ahead of him, moving far more swiftly than he could, especially as tradition held that he would lead his horse through the city rather than ride it. He expected his father to meet him or send an envoy, though Endric wasn’t sure what he would say to Dendril when they faced each other again.
So far, there had been no envoy, and he was left to make it along the ramp leading to the second terrace within the city all alone.
Often, there would be Denraen moving along here, but he saw no sign of his brethren. Had they been sent on patrols? It would be rare for the city to be emptied of Denraen, but he’d seen only the soldiers at the gate, and not nearly as many others as he had expected. Who patrolled within the city?
When he reached the second level, he veered off, heading toward the entrance to the barracks. He considered heading to the third terrace and the palace to find Tresten before
doing anything else but decided he should seek his father. Tresten and his request to join him could wait.
Finally, he noted a sense of activity. Denraen practiced on the barracks lawn, the green grassy field filled with soldiers marching in formation and the clatter of practice staves as men worked through their catahs, practicing sword technique. He saw no sign of anyone practicing with the long staff that Senda preferred, but that was not altogether uncommon.
He paused at the stables, finding an empty stall for the stallion and brushing him down briefly. He ensured that the horse had food and water and patted his side once more. The horse had been a constant companion over the last two months, time that he had spent traveling along the north, listening to the sound of the merahl as they called out on the path back to the city, before finally veering toward Vasha and making his way through the difficult mountain passes.
Having the merahl leave them had been the hardest transition. He had grown to appreciate the constant nature of their howls, feeling a connection to them. The cub who had followed him out of the mountains after the Chisln had grown to full size in Endric's time with the Antrilii, and parting with him had been almost as hard as leaving. But these lands were not for the merahl. They needed to stay in the north and hunt groeliin, and Endric needed to be back here in Vasha.
Didn’t he?
He shook the thought from his head. That wasn’t the way he should be thinking. What he needed to be doing was finding his father, sharing what he’d been through, and then… what? Resume command? Would anyone even follow him after all the time that he had been gone? Was there even a command remaining for him?
He sighed. This was his responsibility. His oath. He was Denraen.
After all the time he’d spent with the Antrilii, it was easy to forget that. Returning to Vasha made it completely clear.
Endric pulled his cloak tight around him and hurried from the stable, moving with a more determined step than before. When leading the horse, he could take a more leisurely approach and didn’t expect anyone to stop him. Now that he was here, he needed to reach the officers’ quarters and needed to report to his father.
More than that, Endric needed to know what might have changed in the time that he had been away. What new difficulty did the Denraen face? When he’d left before, the Deshmahne had begun to become a threat, but the Denraen had managed to push them back, moving them away from the northern continents. How long would that last? How long before someone else like Urik tried to invite them into their lands?
As he departed the barracks, he passed a few Denraen and nodded to them. None seemed to recognize him, or if they did, they said nothing. That was not altogether surprising. He wore Antrilii clothing, though none of the Antrilii war paint they preferred when hunting the groeliin. It had been months since he’d shaved, leaving a thick beard covering his face, hiding the scars the Denraen so prized. Endric had acquired a few more in his journey, but the beard would conceal some of them.
Why had no one stopped him? If they recognized him as Endric, son of Dendril, there would be no reason for them to stop him, though there would be reason to salute him, as he outranked most of these men. He doubted that his father had demoted him in his time away. If they didn’t recognize him, why did they not attempt to confine him?
Perhaps he read too deeply into what he was experiencing. Maybe the time with the Antrilii had made him question the Denraen more than he should. They were good soldiers. Skilled. They didn’t deserve to have him question their motivation, especially not after he had abandoned his responsibility the way that he had.
Endric started toward the officers’ hall and had reached the door when someone grabbed his arm in a firm grip.
That was better. Someone should have stopped him much sooner than this.
Endric spun and saw a familiar face that he would have expected to find eventually but was surprised to see so soon.
“Where are you…” Pendin trailed. He had an angular jaw and his miner ancestry left him with a solid build that years spent training with the sword had only intensified. Pendin would have been equally at home working the forge as he would the mines, or the sword. He was not only Endric’s oldest friend, he was—or had been—his steward.
“It’s good to see you as well, Pendin,” Endric said.
Pendin blinked before pulling Endric into a tight embrace, squeezing the air out of his lungs with his muscular arms. He pushed back, shaking his head as he did. “Endric? I can’t believe you finally returned.”
“I always intended to return,” he said, studying Pendin. There was something different to him, an edge or a darkness that hadn’t been there before.
Pendin’s brow furrowed in what Endric recognized as a troubled expression. “We thought you would have returned long before now,” he said.
“I would have.”
“Would have? That makes it sound like you couldn’t.”
Endric sighed. Were it only so simple. “I think I could have returned long before, but at the same time, I needed to stay.”
“Needed to stay?”
“When I reached the Antrilii lands, I discovered something there that needed my attention.”
Pendin watched him for a moment, and Endric recognized the concern on his face. “Well?” he asked.
“Well what?”
“Do you intend to tell me?”
Endric offered him a tight-lipped smile. “If only I could,” he said.
He hated saying that to Pendin, telling his friend that there were things he could not share, but there were things about the Antrilii, and the creatures they hunted, that Endric couldn’t reveal. Endric was descended from the Antrilii, which meant that he had a right to that knowledge. Pendin was not, and therefore could not know the same information. For him to know might place him in danger.
Pendin frowned but said nothing. “I imagine you want to see—”
“My father,” Endric said.
Pendin tipped his head, glancing over his shoulder. “Not Senda?”
Endric sighed. In the time that he’d been away, he had thought of her frequently and had been looking forward to the time when they could be reunited. He missed the closeness that had formed between them in the months before he had headed north, and he missed her counsel, but now that he had returned to Vasha, he needed to report first and only then could he find her.
“I want to be around her when she realizes that you didn’t go to her first.”
“She’ll understand.” If nothing else, Senda was as committed to her responsibility within the Denraen as Endric was.
Pendin grunted. “I’m not so sure she will. I think she would rather have a chance to fill you in before you met with him.”
“Fill me in on what?”
They were making their way through the hall, and Endric had nearly reached the general’s office when Pendin rested his hand on his arm again. “In the time that you’ve been gone, a few things have changed.”
Endric frowned. There would have to have been change. He’d departed after Urik’s capture, leaving after the Denraen had finally captured him, bringing an end to the danger he posed. Urik had discovered the secret to using teralin and had used it against the Denraen—and the Urmahne priests—in such a way that he’d essentially become the very thing that he had wanted to fight.
“What’s changed, Pendin? I don’t need for you to shield me from anything.”
Pendin had opened his mouth to answer when he suddenly clamped it shut once more.
Endric looked behind him and saw his father striding down the hall.
Dendril was a large man and had a hint of wrinkling around the corners of his eyes, with a deep crease in his brow. He was dressed in the crisp gray uniform of the Denraen, and wore his sword Trill strapped to his waist. Prior to Endric’s challenge, the sword had remained hanging on the wall in his office. Since that day—since the Deshmahne attack—Dendril had worn it.
“Sir,” Endric said with a curt nod.
&nbs
p; Dendril pressed his lips together and nodded. “You returned.”
“I’ve gotten that response a few times now,” Endric said.
“I expected you to have returned much before now. I thought that Nahrsin would share what he knew and then you would come back to us. It’s been nearly a year.”
“Nearly a year, but it was necessary. The time was well spent for me to understand the Antrilii, and to understand where I come from so that I can understand how to better help the Denraen.”
“The Denraen are not about a single soldier. They are about serving peace.”
“I know.”
“And yet still you have remained away.”
Endric met his father’s eyes, matching the intensity that his father showed him. How much should he tell his father? There was no questioning the fact that he should have returned much sooner than he did, but he also had discovered more about his father, and about the way things had been left with the Antrilii, that Endric had been forced to deal with.
Was his father even aware?
Watching the man, he thought that he had been, but perhaps that was incorrect. Perhaps his father was not aware of the way that his absence had been perceived in the Antrilii lands.
Interesting if true.
Then again, how was Endric’s absence perceived?
“The Antrilii required that I fill an obligation,” Endric said. Let him be vague, so that his father was not embarrassed in front of Pendin.
Dendril’s brow furrowed even deeper. “An obligation?”
Endric nodded once.