Malice (The Faithful and the Fallen, #1)

by John Gwynne

‘For whence But from the author of all ill could spring So deep a malice.’ John Milton, Paradise Lost

Asroth was first-created, Elyon’s beloved, captain of the Ben-Elim, the Sons of the Mighty.

First was the cauldron, its power used to heal. Then a torc, given to Skald, the giant’s king, and a necklace for Nemain, his queen.

Brenin, Lord of Dun Carreg and King of all Ardan, his royal torc and chainmail coat glowing red in the first rays of morning. On one side of him rode Alona, his wife, on the other Edana, their daughter.

You must learn to control your emotions, boy. Those that don’t do that often end up dead: anger, fear, pride, whatever. If your emotions control you, sooner or later you’re a dead man.’

Treasures had been forged from the starstone, seven Treasures–cauldron, torc, necklace, spear, dagger, axe and cup.

‘Asroth seeks to destroy all that Elyon created. He seeks to destroy you. Every one of you. Elyon’s presence is not required for that. And you will either die meekly, fooled by him, or you will resist, fight back.’

‘A king may be absent and yet those faithful to him will still do battle for him,’

‘Two born of blood, dust and ashes shall champion the Choices, the Darkness and Light.’

Black Sun will drown the earth in bloodshed, Bright Star with the Treasures must unite.’

‘By their names you shall know them–Kin-Slayer, Kin-Avenger, Giant-Friend, Draig-Rider, Dark Power ’gainst Lightbringer.’ And so he went on: read, pause, search. Read again. ‘One shall be the Tide, one the Rock in the swirling sea. Before one, storm and shield shall stand; before the other, True-Heart and Black-Heart. Beside one rides the Beloved, beside the other, the Avenging Hand. Behind one, the Sons of the Mighty, the fair Ben-Elim, gathered ’neath the Great Tree. Behind the other, the Unholy, dread Kadoshim, who seek to cross the bridge, force the world to bended knee.’

‘Look for them when the high king calls, when the shadow warriors ride forth, when white-walled Telassar is emptied, when the book is found in the north. When the white wyrms spread from their nest, when the Firstborn take back what was lost, and the Treasures stir from their rest. Both earth and sky shall cry warning, shall herald this War of Sorrows. Tears of blood spilt from the earth’s bones, and at Midwinter’s height bright day shall become full night.’ No one spoke. Tears of blood, thought

Veradis counted, frowned. Only five had stood: Romar, King of Isiltir, Brenin of Ardan, red-bearded Braster, Temel of the Sirak and Rahim of Tarbesh.

‘Whatever your cause, lies are a coward’s way; and they are like poison. They bring death. Death of trust, Ban. Death of honour, death of respect.

‘I would make a blood-oath with you. You are Elyon’s gift to me: the brother that I never had, my first-sword, champion, battlechief and friend. Bind yourself to me now, and Elyon will take us on to glory you have never dreamed of. We shall face Asroth’s Black Sun and change our world.

‘Many think swordplay is about who is the strongest,’ Halion said, ‘and often I suppose that is true. But for the masters–those that plan to live the longest–swordplay is about deception. About making your opponent think you will strike from the left and then striking from the right, making him think you will slash but lunging instead. Deception.

Both the brave man and the coward feel the same. The only difference between them is that the brave man faces his fear, does not run.’