By the Sword

chapter Sixteen



“My lord,” said Jalarn. “You know how important the prince is to me. I was just curious about why the God followers believe what they do. I wanted to win the girl’s trust so that it would be easier to sway her allegiance.”

“I don’t buy it. Your recent actions have led me to mistrust you, Jalarn. I should have known better than to allow a child to lead my army.”

“Did you not see me out there training the men this morning, ready to lead my – your army? That is exactly what I intend to do.”

“Maybe. I will have to decide if I believe you, but not today. I am going to strip you of your rank for now. Naeshi will take your place as general. I am very disappointed in you, Jalarn.”

“No!” Jalarn shouted.

Jalarn lunged at Aterun, but an invisible hand clenched his neck. Jalarn angrily fought with both of his hands, but the grip did not lessen. He couldn’t breathe.

Help me, prince!

The prince was allowing it to happen. Jalarn was being punished for dabbling in an absurd belief. Jalarn glared hatefully at the warlock that had betrayed him.

“Enough,” said Ittonifer.

Aterun withdrew his magical strangle.

Jalarn caught his breath.

“I want you to prove to me that you haven’t joined the side of the weak,” said Ittonifer.

“I would never join them! I was working with your warlock to create a spell on their general, remember?” Jalarn shouted.

“You can start to regain my trust by burning that worthless piece of parchment, and maybe I will consider giving you back your old commander position in time for the war.”

Without hesitating, Jalarn walked over to his bed and grabbed the lethal document. The words telling of God’s love were still in red. They had nearly cost him the life that he had worked so hard to have. He had been a complete fool. Like Talya.

Jalarn rolled up the scroll and tossed it into the fire. The flames licked at Talya’s beloved story. There was no room in his life for idealistic musings. The only thing that they had done for Talya was cause her an unnecessary death.


Talya paced back and forth, sword in hand, ignoring the dull aches and pains that throbbed all over her body. She had never felt so helpless in all her life. Jalarn had chosen the devil over Jesus, leaving her at the mercy of her enemy.

I have failed Jalarn. There must have been something else I could have said.

The thought of Jalarn dying and going into an eternity of sorrow and pain made her feel sick.

Talya collapsed onto the cold, hard floor and buried her face in her hands. She thought of the countless other men that she had sent to hell. Waltez was one of them. Her father had allowed him to go free. Maybe he would have changed his ways, but Talya had made sure that he died before he had a chance to.

Then there had been hundreds more. Her stomach knotted and she vomited.

Oh Lord, I can never make up for what I did. Never.

Footsteps walked slowly toward her cell. Talya gripped her sword as her pulse quickened. It wasn’t even worth fighting anymore. She would be dead soon anyway, and perhaps the guards who slew her would have a chance to one day come to know God if she spared their lives.

I really am beginning to think more like Mother. Like Jesus.

The prison door opened and Ittonifer walked in. A shriveled old man hobbled in behind him, leering at Talya.

Talya set her sword down. A stream of light came from the elderly man’s hand.

“We have not come just to kill you,” said Ittonifer. “You will suffer much for refusing to submit to me.”

“Do your worst then.”

Despite Talya’s brave façade, she thought her knees would buckle.

More pain is sure to come. Not more pain.

Her body was still very tender from the previous abuse. And she felt so tired.

Lord, please give me the strength to bear it!

Ittonifer glanced at Aterun.

“Cast the spell!” he barked.

Talya tried to think of what it would be like when she, at last, would behold her Redeemer. Jesus. She would know no more pain or sorrow caused by living in the world.

But what about Jalarn?

Talya choked back a sob.

The old man reached out. He opened the palms of his hands as he began a low, solemn chant.

Talya backed into the wall of her prison as unspeakable pain permeated through her entire body. It hit her with such force that she could barely breathe, much less scream.

“Submit to our lord and you will be spared!” shouted Ittonifer.

“N-nooo!” she cried.

Her entire body convulsed. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to hold in the cries that wanted to burst forth from her mouth. Every inch of her body felt like it was being burned with searing liquid fire.

It was too much.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

“Jesus, help me!”


Naeshi grinned as he rode his winged mare to the front of Malinor’s army. Ittonifer had given him the honor of leading it. Thanks to Jalarn’s predictable immaturity. It took more than skill to lead soldiers and knights.

The God followers and the giants wouldn’t know what hit them when flaming boulders and thrashing monsters greeted their arrival. Naeshi could barely wait to lay his eyes on the beasts tearing apart thousands of his enemies. He wouldn’t let Ittonifer down like Jalarn had. Perhaps one day, his bravery would be recognized and Ittonifer would promote him to general. Regardless, he would prove to be a much better leader than that disillusioned whelp.

Naeshi still could not believe that the empire’s most powerful warrior had fallen prey to the wiles of an enemy female knight. General Edandir’s daughter would die that day because of misplaced belief.

What a fool. Ittonifer himself was going to make her a commander, and she refused.

It was just as well. Malinor did not need a woman in its army. Females were made for a different purpose. And General Edandir deserved to lose his child. He had refused to give Chrissa back.

Images of the delicate, pale damsel crossed his mind. Naeshi would go searching for her once every man from Sanctus was slain. There were only so many places to hide in a military camp. He would burn the entire thing down if he had to. He would find her.

And make her pay a high price for leaving me.

Several magicians had taken Aterun’s place in subduing the beasts. They stood around the large metal pens that held the animals.

The ground shook and everyone’s attention shifted to the hill afar off. Sanctus’ general emerged over the hill. He was riding a sleek firedrake. It was pitiful in comparison to the beasts that Malinor would soon set free.

I would have killed him last night if it weren’t for that pansy archer.

Naeshi’s moment had come. He was about to lead the army of the Malinorian Empire into the most important battle in its history. The battle that Malinor would win. He had stolen the glory from Jalarn. At last.





The army of Sanctus was very close. The banging from their drums could be heard now. Jalarn studied his men. He had whipped them into finer shape than anyone else could have. Even the young lads that he had to break in days before stood in rigid determination, ready to fight. They would not fall easily.

Jalarn was proud of his decision to have lightweight armor designed for all of the men. Ittonifer had approved of his idea. The soldiers would move much faster than before, and they would not tire as quickly. With the beasts and magic spells in addition to Jalarn’s skilled army, the Sanctus warriors did not stand a chance this time.

Then again, it is not my army anymore. Thanks to a warlock that is going to be dead very soon.

Jalarn’s throat was bruised where the magical grip had nearly strangled him to death. Despite the fact that he was alive, Jalarn bristled at the thought of having to bear the humiliation of being back among the commanders. Ittonifer most likely just wanted to teach him a lesson. It was one he would never forget.

Jalarn’s men eyed him strangely when he approached them without his scarlet cape, but none dared to ask why he was not wearing it. It pleased Jalarn that they still feared and respected him. In reality, he was still their general. He would work his way back into Ittonifer’s favor soon. He would never, ever become so enthralled in something other than the prince.

He caught sight of Naeshi sitting atop the Pegasus mare. Ittonifer couldn’t have chosen a more incompetent fool to lead the army. Though undeniably strong and skilled with the sword, the man had a pea brain.

Jalarn remembered the day many years ago that he had first become a Malinorian soldier. Still just a young boy then, he had been hopeless and afraid. He had been so weak and pathetic. Ittonifer had seen to it that Jalarn and his mother starved, because of her lowly birth status. He had never approved of his younger brother’s marriage to a peasant. After Ittonifer’s brother had died, Jalarn and his mother were forced out of the castle. Jalarn’s parents had cared deeply for one another – a rare occurrence in Malinor. On their own, Jalarn and his mother had lived a pathetic, destitute life until she finally died from starvation. Jalarn would have died, too, had Ittonifer not noticed his strength the day that he had won the fatal fight against the other boys. When Ittonifer caught wind of Jalarn’s mother’s death, he brought Jalarn to the barracks for training.

As Jalarn’s skill deepened, Ittonifer had granted him the entire west wing of the castle. Jalarn had worked himself nearly to death on more than one occasion to get there. The years passed on until every last ounce of empathy had been driven from his soul. He had become exactly like Ittonifer. Jalarn had hated everyone and everything all the way up until a few nights ago when Talya had spared his life. He had been so confused then as to why she would do such an unnatural thing. His confusion had turned into an obsession.

As the strange sword maiden from Sanctus occupied his mind, something had been stirred inside of him. Something that was probably similar to what his father had felt for his mother. There was not a moment that Jalarn hadn’t thought of Talya. Thankfully, in the end, he had come to his senses. Where would he have gone if he had turned his back on Malinor and the prince?

I would have been a nobody in the world’s eyes, but maybe I would have been everything in Talya’s eyes.

Jalarn shook his head. It was disturbing that, even now, with a raging battle nearly in his grasp, all he could think about was her. She really had infiltrated his mind, working her way into a heart that he had been barely aware of. He had to forget about her and move on while there was still a chance to regain Ittonifer’s favor.

He shook his head.

General Jalarn of Malinor had fallen for a girl – for an enemy. He had been the prodigy general of a mighty empire, servant of a nation that did not allow any room for compassion, let alone love. He had acted like a sentimental adolescent, nearly losing everything.

Never again.

The enemy was close now. Very close. He could hear them marching. The army that was led by Talya’s father.

Jalarn unsheathed his sword, his pulse racing. This was what he was born to do. Fight. Kill. Rule.

Despite that, Jalarn knew that Talya’s pleading face was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.


Ittonifer’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as the sword maiden cried out to her God. He rarely grinned, but he really did love a good torture.

Talya’s pain had only just begun and nothing was going to save her. God’s Son did not even exist. She would see that now, as she died, indignant and alone. General Edandir would lose another loved one to the empire.

A traitor deserves nothing less.

“Forgive them!” she cried.

Ittonifer frowned. What was she talking about?

The bright beam of magic that surged violently into Talya’s flesh was suddenly driven back onto Aterun. The warlock began to tremble as his own spell worked its way through his frail body.

Talya dropped to the floor in a heap.

Ittonifer backed away as he quickly recited the spell again.

“Acca tabrusca beruna.”

Nothing happened.

“Aterun!” shouted Ittonifer.

The magician was supposed to be an anointed one of the prince, but he had allowed that girl’s God to overpower him.

“You incompetent fool! I will not be bested by Him!”

Ittonifer spat at Talya and stalked over to Aterun.

“Karaphal!” Ittonifer shouted.

The lightning-like surges ceased.

Aterun fell onto his backside, panting and groaning.

Ittonifer unsheathed his broad sword and drove its blade through the magician’s heart. He walked over to Talya’s cell and unlocked it. It was time to put an end to this girl and all of the madness that surrounded her.

Talya rolled onto her back. Her eyes widened as he came closer to her. Instead of cowering, she sat up and got onto her knees, looking right into his eyes. After everything that had happened, there was not a glint of fear in her gaze. What a warrior she could have made for Malinor. For the prince.

The world was about to be rid of another delusional rebel.





Ittonifer lifted his sword just above Talya’s head, his black stare boring into her eyes. She closed them as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wished that she had been able to reach Jalarn, to make things right with Tanel and her father. It was too late for all of that now. In moments, she would be in Heaven. With Jesus and her mother. And Hanten. She bowed her head.

“Lord, into Your Hands I commit my—”

A piercing clang resounded just above her head.

Talya opened her eyes and looked up.

Jalarn stood at her side. His sword was blocking Ittonifer’s blade mere inches away from her face.

Talya rolled away from beneath the clash of metal just as Ittonifer’s sword broke free from Jalarn’s blocking move and slammed down onto the ground – right where her head had been.

“Run, Talya!” shouted Jalarn.


General Edandir was grateful that he had chosen a dragon as his steed for the battle. He needed its powerful body and sharp fangs for the best chance of making it to the castle quickly. He had to get Talya out of there.

From the top of the hill, he could already see the monstrous beasts that Ittonifer had drawn from the deep. They were still in their cages, but it was only a matter of moments before they would unleash their demoniac-driven fury on his men. He was more grateful than ever to have the powerfully built giants fighting on his side.

Edandir urged his firedrake down the hill. His mounted swordsmen followed. Once he reached the bottom, he signaled to his archers to be ready. They were standing at the top of the rise now. Their bowstrings were stretched taught, ready to shoot.

The general raised his sword. Thousands of arrows whistled through the air and rained down on Malinor’s knights.

A chorus of snarls and shrieks filled the air as hundreds of them fell. The monsters had been set free. General Edandir charged ahead with his army roaring behind him. His firedrake bounded fearlessly toward the mass of armed men.

Edandir drew his sword as he and his dragon collided into the wall of enemy horsemen. He slew three of them within seconds as his dragon breathed fire on several more. The general sliced and stabbed his way through the thick of the battle as his dragon shot out more streams of fire and lashed with his tail.

The castle still seemed like it was miles away.

Pori and Timlin fought next to him atop their strong war horses. Endil roared his notable battle cry nearby, clubbing down enemy knights with his mallet in one hand and stabbing them with his broad sword in the other.

Flaming balls raced in the air above them. Piercing cries echoed all around them. The archers had been hit. Tanel flashed through Edandir’s mind.

God, protect Your servants as they fight the enemy for You.

A terrifying snarl resounded through the air as a winged, fire-breathing dragon, larger than any animal that Edandir had ever seen, flew over him. It was flying toward the archers.


Tanel was barely able to leap off of his mare in time as an oncoming flaming boulder collided with the animal. He got up and the sickly smell of burning flesh permeated his nostrils.

“No!” he cried.

His noble war horse had been slain, but there was no time to mourn her. Another fireball slammed into the ground near him and split into hundreds of fiery chunks that shot everywhere. Several slammed into his back and legs.

Tanel dropped and rolled, putting out the flames. He dashed away as another rock came screaming for him, ignoring the raw burning sensation all over his back. There were so many and they were coming at them too fast.

The remaining archers scattered. Tanel caught sight of Wenyn. The other archer’s arm had been burned. Wenyn sat on the grass, holding his limb.

Tanel raced over to him. A fireball soared just over their heads. He bent down beside Wenyn and sliced a section from his cape. He wrapped it around Wenyn’s badly burned arm.

“Wenyn, get up. You’ll die here if you don’t keep moving.”

Wenyn faced Tanel and just stared.

“The surgeon will prepare an ointment for you later that will do just the trick. You’ll be fine, but you have to get up now. Your wound will go numb soon.”

“My horse is dead. So many men are dead.”

“I know. We have to keep moving or we will be dead, too. It’s time to get up!”

Wenyn stood.

“Come, let us gather the archers together and finish off those catapult operators once and for all,” said Tanel.

A slight grin spread over Wenyn’s face and he nodded. The shock was wearing off.

The two bowmen made their way past the fallen. They rounded up as many archers as they could. To Tanel’s relief, Atalsa was one of the few that had survived the rain of fire. They managed to gather roughly twenty of them back together.

A piercing screech sliced the air. A giant firedrake was coming toward them. Smoke came from its nostrils. More fire was sure to come.

“I think we have a problem here,” said Atalsa.

Her eyes widened more as the massive animal came closer to them.

“We won’t for long,” said Tanel.

He grabbed an arrow from its quiver.

The small band of archers followed suit and fired their arrows at the flying beast. Several arrowheads went deep into its scaly body. It roared angrily and breathed fire at them.

Everyone hit the ground. The flames had missed them. This time.

They each grabbed another arrow and shot at the dragon until it thundered to the ground.

That still left nine more of Malinor’s beasts.

Tanel cringed as several swordsmen nearby were flung into the air like mice by an extremely large, long-necked monster. It ate their horses whole before stalking toward another section of Sanctus’ knights.

“We have to stop that one next,” Tanel said, pointing at it.

With his heart pounding violently in his chest, he jogged, with the others following, to the raging animal. They formed a line and then fired a round of arrows at it. It hastily yanked out several arrows with its flexible forelegs, darting its angry eyes in their direction.

It stormed over, shaking the ground under its great weight.

Tanel and the others continued to shoot at it, but that didn’t stop the crazed animal. Its skin was much thicker than the giant dragon’s.

“Retreat!” shouted Wenyn.

Everyone turned and broke into a sprint, but Tanel knew that it was only a matter of moments before the powerful creature caught up to them.