Eight of Hearts: The Rift Blade - Book 1

Chapter 13

Isaac fit right in with the loud rabble of drunks that gathered in The Drunken Brawl for poker. His usual antics and cheery enthusiasm quickly earned him a spot at the table.

Even Darril, the big man who had stopped him before now joked and teased him with the rest, enjoying the childlike excitement that emanated from him. The boy had no understanding of the rules of the game, but he still managed to win quite a few hands through sheer dumb luck. Yet Isaac had no interest in any winnings. He was having fun, pure and simple. Darril was fond of him already.

The game was interrupted when the door slammed open. A skinny sod rushed inside, tripping over himself in a panic.

"Th-there's a light in the sky!" the newcomer yelled, crossing himself to ward off evil.

Darril snorted, "Calm down, i's jes' the moon," he said dismissively.

"The moon!" Isaac yelled, leaping to his feet. "You can see the moon from here? That's amazing! I want to see it!" The white-haired boy pulled at Darril's arm, urging him to his feet.

"What you want, boy?" Darril asked. He tried to sound stern and dismissive, but Isaac's excitement was irresistible.

"Come on, Mr. Darril, let's go see!" Isaac insisted, still tugging on his arm like a puppy.

Darril sighed, pretending to be annoyed as he stood and allowed himself to be escorted out of the pub. The hand was over anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to take a small break, especially if it meant that much to the boy.

Out in the street, the pair stared up in shock at the pillar of light beaming into the northern sky.

The sight was awe-inspiring; the light dissipated outwards once it hit the thick layer of clouds overhead. The sky was briefly lit up with a pale imitation of daylight before vanishing abruptly as the source went out.

Beside him, the white haired boy shivered with excitement. "That's the signal," he muttered quietly. He dashed back into the pub, standing with the door held open as he called inside, "Adriana! That's our cue!"

Darril followed Isaac to the door, peering inside to see the girl slumped over the counter, glass in hand. Cecil, the gentleman, stood beside her, gently shaking her and calling her name.

"Sorry boy," Cecil said, tipping his hat to Isaac. "She seems to have passed out. But do not worry, I can carry her for you." He smiled reassuringly and moved to pick Adriana up.

"I don't think so!" Isaac said, rushing to stand between her and Cecil. "I can't let just any lowlife carry her!"

Cecil's smile never wavered, but his eyebrows raised at the boy's defiance. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

Isaac ignored him, pulling the unconscious girl onto his back with surprising ease and heading for the exit. "Mr. Darril," he said as he approached the large thug, "would you help me carry my friend?"

Darril glanced at Cecil, noting the dangerous look in his smiling eyes. Cecil was a dangerous man to cross. There was an air about the man that made people give him a wide berth. It wasn't anything you could see, or anything the man himself said or did. It was just a feeling.

But here was Isaac, rejecting Cecil's offer of help. Darril couldn't help but admire his tenacity.

Darril grinned at the boy, reflecting his infectious joy. "I'll take her, you jus' lead the way."

Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins as Bryce sat Flora on the floor inside the storehouse. She stared up at him in a daze, still reeling from the blow to the back of her head.

"Stay here," Bryce said, his strong features shining with confidence. He grinned briefly before turning to dash back out, leaving Flora dazed and awestruck in the safety of the storehouse.

"Wait," Flora called after him, standing quickly. But he was already gone.

Bryce ran out to join the fight. Noting that Shyla was no longer moving, he charged out into the middle of the street, still spurred on by Flywheel's speech.

"Idiot boy!" the mercenary leader called down to him, his voice strained with rage. "My men have your precious village surrounded! I will make an example of you before this day is done!"

Bryce could hear gunshots coming from the far end of the village, the sound of destruction coming closer every moment. But his eyes remained locked on the mercenary leader as he roared back, "This showdown is between you and me!"

"Boooss!" came a pitious cry from behind him as a man run by, chased by a cackling Flywheel riding one of their own mechs.

The mercenary leader screamed, his face twisted and red with rage, realizing his men were routed. He aimed his missiles at the audacious boy in front of him and slammed his fist on the launch button.

In the same moment, Bryce drew his bow, nocking an arrow to it as he sighted the missile chamber. He loosed it, and it flew directly through the opening, impacting the missle head in a direct hit. The large machine shattered in every direction as the explosion ripped through it, killing the leader instantly.

Bryce faced the glowing fireball solemnly as it dissipated upward into a cloud of smoke.

The sound of tramping and crashing feet of the undead army grew louder and louder until the hills around them shook with the cacophony. Rubble shook loose from the cliff at their backs, crashing to the ground behind them. But they couldn't spare any worry for anything but the terrible army in front of them.

Tobias slumped his shoulders, wanting just a moment to rest. "I don't think I can keep going like this," he said to his friend. They had both lost their weapons in their earlier fight, and they were both worn down already.

James blinked, still glancing around at the approaching horde, looking for a way out. "Me neither," he admitted.

Tobias glanced at his friend, but James's face was unreadable. He showed no fear, despite the hellish nightmare looming before them. He seemed almost confident, like there was nothing in this dark world that could ever stop him. Just like the real James, Tobias thought.

"What's the plan?" he finally asked.

"There's only one thing to do," James answered. He calmly knelt and selected another sword from the many weapons that still littered the ground. The sword he selected was dull and rusted, but he had no time to be picky. He straightened carefully, then offered Tobias a cheerful smile. "I'll distract them, you run for it."

"What?" Tobias asked. But James was already running towards the undead army.