Possessing the Shard of Regula, Eldred fully embraces the power of the Mother. He is restored, enhancedâpossessing devastating strength. Still, he cannot forget what he has lost. Is it time for vengeance? Join Eldred on his clandestine odyssey, where the line between justice and retribution blurs, and the fate of civilizations hangs in the balance.
Possessing the Shard of Regula, Eldred fully embraces the power of the Mother. He is restored, enhancedâpossessing devastating strength. Still, he cannot forget what he has lost. Is it time for vengeance? Join Eldred on his clandestine odyssey, where the line between justice and retribution blurs, and the fate of civilizations hangs in the balance.
The creaking pine tree swayed in the wind under Eldred as he gripped the trunk, hidden among the topmost branches, watching the long line of wagons winding over a hill between two dense clumps of forest. Some wagons carried passengers, but most were loaded with crates and sacks, prospective citizens and supplies for the city the Corporian invaders had built on the Night Motherâs land. They looked quite a muddle with their varied hair color: brown and blonde and red and black. The only attributes their distracted stone bearer had been able to keep uniform was their copper-colored skin and green eyes.
The caravan had teethâa hundred fifty armored warriors on horseback milled about, looking alert and ready to fight. They were big men too, not quite so large as Mercians, but much larger than Deirans. Some of the folk on the wagons had arms as well; perhaps another hundred men were ready to raise swords. And there were archers too, both men and women, though mostly women. All in all, a formidable force if they were not facing bonded warriors, the greatest creation of Regula, the greatest of stone bearers.
But that is who they faced. Twelve pods of the Motherâs own, totaling sixty men, had made their way into the forest across the clearing earlier that morning. With his far sight, Eldred could make out a few of the Deirans lurking behind the trees atop their mounts. After seeing the variety of the Corporians, the Deirans almost looked identical with their uniform pale skin, brown eyes and dark hairâthe same as Eldred himself, save for his larger size, the size of a Mercian.
At the front of the Corporian column, a woman bedecked in armor gestured excitedly at her companion, an unusually large Corporian warrior who kept nodding at everything she said. Eldred sighed. If only the man paid as much attention to his surroundings as to her, he might have noticed the danger.
The action started once the last of the caravan guards crossed over the crest of the hill and went on fifty yards. Seven pods, the better part of the Deiran forces, came out of the woods to stand behind the Corporians in a straggly line across the hill. They just sat there on their horses as if they were out for a morning ride, chatting with each other and smiling down at the mass of Corporians below them.
A cry went up from the civilians in the rear wagon. At the front, the woman in armor made a series of hand gestures, and the greater part of the cavalry turned to join the twenty guardsmen at the back. Meanwhile, the wagons started lining up eight abreast, assuming a more compact, defensive position. Archers and swordsmen dashed out to the outer wagons while children and the aged huddled on the wagon in the center of the formation.
The thirty-five Deiran warriors surveyed the situation from atop the hill. Below them, around one hundred twenty Corporian horsemen formed a line twenty yards from the hastily assembled wagon fortress. The armored woman rode to the side of the caravan for a better view of the Deirans but stayed back, keeping her distance. Some thirty men clumped around her, including the large man with whom she had been conversing earlier.
And so everyone stayed, locked in place for five full minutes, enough time for Eldred to rock back and forth on the breeze fifteen times on the gently swaying tree. He watched as the Corporians below moved from initial expressions of wariness, if not outright fear, to irritation and indignation as the Deirans waited nonchalantly on their horses.
Finally, the armored woman raised her fist and called out a command that set the line of horsemen in motion. They crossed half the distance to the Deiran line before the bonded warriors wheeled around and disappeared over the hill. The Corporian cavalry followed without hesitation.
Eldred shook his head as he looked out over the people huddled on the wagons. He could see Deirans lurking in the adjacent woods, but the Corporians kept their eyes trained on the hill.
A minute later, the Deirans came charging out, five pods of bonded warriorsâmost likely the strongest of them, Eldred grudgingly allowed. The thirty Corporian horse soldiers clustered by the wagons had no time to turn before the first two Deirans pods reached them and started cutting them down. The other three pods of warriors leapt from their horses onto the wagons and started hacking their way through the defenders.
In the shock of the initial onslaught, the Deirans killed five horsemen and dozens of footmen. The children and the more sprightly elders started leaping from the wagons and fleeing into the trees. Amidst the milling horses, the armored woman took the measure of her situation and retreated, accompanied by the large man and eight companions, leaving fifteen riders to slow the onslaught.
A single Deiran pod broke off in pursuit and quickly gained ground. The Deiran riders were lighter, lacking the heavy armor donned by the Corporians. The Deiran horses were likely higher quality too, fashioned as they were by the Mother over centuries. The first verutum thrown caught one of the fleeing Corporians in the back. The second hobbled a horse that went down hard, tumbling its hapless rider onto the turf, where he sat dazed for a moment before a Deiran sword found his neck.
The fleeing Corporians veered headlong into the forest, nearly passing under the tree where Eldred perched a hundred feet above their heads. They charged down a game trail that disappeared into a wall of low branches, pushing through as far as they could, but their horses proved too tall. After a moment's hesitation, accompanied by considerable cursing, they abandoned their mounts and ducked under the branches, continuing on foot. Eldred frowned. Not a good choice, but perhaps the Corporians didnât have any sound choices left.
Eldred turned back towards the caravan. The pursuing pod of Deirans had stopped at the treeline, taking a moment to tie their horses and check the action back by the wagons. Everything was going strongly in their favor. The last two Corporian riders had fled, followed by a pair of Deirans on horseback. Three injured bonded warriors withdrew from the fray while the other fifteen stormed the caravan, putting everyone to the sword and chasing after the Corporians who had escaped into the far woods. There was no sign of the men who had charged over the hill.
Nearby, the leader of the Deiran pursuit, the leader of the entire Deiran force, barked a harsh laugh. A broad smile showed across his pockmarked face, marred by a misshapen scar on his cheek. Then he and his podmen resumed their hunt, sprinting past the tree where Eldred perched.
Eldred took a breath. It would take some time for the bonded warriors to mop the civilians. Some of the quicker children might even escape. The Deiran warriors below would be on their own for a while. Eldred considered: a pod of Deiran warriors against eight Corporians. Even allowing that they were elite Corporian fighters, nothing their forces had demonstrated so far suggested they would put up much resistance.
Eldred crinkled up his face and tapped the tree trunk with his knuckles as he considered the odds. âBy the Mother,â he muttered. He gave a deep sigh and started a rapid descent of the tree. A moment later, he too was chasing after the others into the forest.
He found them in a glade. The Corporians had squeezed into a tight line between two thick pines, shields raised and weapons in hand. The large one stood in the center while the woman crouched behind him brandishing a sword. The Deirans formed a loose line, having arrived an instant before Eldred. They looked ready to act.
âHold!â bellowed Eldred. âHold up, Wulsin.â
There was a pause as everyone turned to look at Eldred, both Deirans and Corporians. By their faces, they were unimpressed. It didnât help that he was dressed in a rough wool tunic that was too tight in the shoulders and old, worn breeches decorated with patches. It wasnât clear whether they noticed the sword on his belt which was of good quality, the only valuable thing he possessed. Heâd snatched it three nights earlier when one of Wuslinâs men had gone for a late night swim.
After a moment, the Deiran leader, Wulsin, eyed Eldred with surprise. âAh, itâs you, Eldred. What in the Motherâs name are you doing here? Last I heard, you were murdering your relatives in Maldavia.â
Eldred drew his sword. âIâm here for you. Iâm here to settle matters regarding Dreven.â
Wulsin frowned. âWhoâs that?â
Eldredâs face hardened. The bastard didnât even know Drevenâs name. "The young man you hanged by the neck on the Northern Highway almost eight months ago, right after the battle with the Corporians. He was my friend.â
âOh, him. I didnât hang him.â Wulsin beamed, stretching the scar on his cheek. âLord Ferris did. I just brought down his horse.â
âFor that, then,â said Eldred, raising his weapon.
Wulsin gave a light laugh as he cast a glance over at the Corporians. âHe was fair game, Eldred, not just some stupid steward. Heâd assaulted Lord Ferris the week before.â
âI know. Youâre fair game as well,â said Eldred.
Wulsin gestured towards the line of Corporians, still gripping their swords. âFine. We can go a round with you as soon as we finish with them. Itâll just take a minute.â
Eldred sought the eye of the armored woman. âNo. You can fight us both.â
She looked on without expression.
Wulsin shrugged. âYouâre right about that. Iâll show you the proof.â With that, Wulsin and the man beside him dashed at Eldred while the other three began their attack on the Corporians.
Eldred gave ground and withdrew into the trees, keeping both men in front of him as they advanced, each one seeking to hit his sword arm. They were fast, wickedly fast, and this was no game. If they disarmed him or wounded him, they would kill him. It would take a while, but they could do it.
So Eldred backed away, watching their dancing blades that moved so nimbly, parrying their blows and keeping them back with occasional feints. He took a grazing cut to the arm on one of Wulsinâs attacks, and their eyes grew brighter with anticipation.
On their next attack, Eldred showed his speed, darting forward and extending to find the throat of Wulsinâs companion, his thrust impervious to their parries, for his was the strength of a shard bearer. Wulsin paid Eldred back with a slash across the shoulder of his sword arm, but it was difficult to incapacitate a shard bearer, a lesson Eldred knew from his own experience. Eldred had stabbed the previous shard bearer more than a hundred times before heâd dug the shard out of his forehead.
Eldred smiled grimly. âOne down. The magic fades a trifle, doesnât it?â
Wulsin said nothing and came again, pressing hard, moving fast. He didnât seem much slowed. He drove Eldred back thirty paces with his furious onslaught, but then Eldredâs chance came. After a ringing parry that almost knocked Wulsinâs sword from his grasp, Eldred drove his sword into Wulsinâs chest. Wulsinâs eyes grew large as he dropped to his knees, but he took one last bite, impaling Eldredâs left shin.
Eldred crouched and cupped his hand over the gushing wound. âWas it truly a lucky throw, Wulsin? I heard Lord Ferris praise you. I was there, hiding in the wine merchantâs wagon. Was it lucky? Do you still think so?â
Wulsin had no words, no breath. His convulsing face showed no comprehension as he keeled over. After a moment, he lay still. He was dead.
Eldred straightened up and released his shin, which still leaked a trickle of blood. He had killed Wulsin, but he felt no better for it. If anything, he felt angrier. This worthless coward had tormented Dreven as part of Lord Ferrisâs treachery. The image of Dreven hanging from the tree filled Eldredâs mind, and the pain and hate came flooding back. Eldred had been helpless then, unable to even stand on his feet, but he was not helpless now. These worthless bastards would pay a price. He strode back to the glade.Â
Four Corporians remained on their feet, fighting the three surviving warriors from Wulsinâs pod. On the left, the large Corporian was holding his own against a bonded warrior while the Corporian leader slumped against a tree behind him, clutching her gut. On the right, two Deirans pressed three overmatched Corporians. Three other Corporians already lay dead or dying.
For a moment, Eldred stood, watching, wishing them all a miserable end. Then, when one of the three struggling Corporians was stabbed through the eye, he was reluctantly moved to action; facing three bonded warriors might be more than he could manage. He hurled his sword from thirty feet and impaled the rightmost Deiran in the backâa death blow. The two nearest Corporians were startled and paid the price for it as the bonded warrior facing them, a thin-faced man, sliced the neck of one before piercing the ribs of the other.
The thin-faced warrior turnedâblade in one hand, knife in the otherâand glowered at Eldred, who calmly drew his dagger. It was different now with only two bonded warriors. Eldred took a relaxed breath. The two remaining Deirans were dangerous, no doubt, but Eldred bore the Shard of the Mother, the prized gift of power she had created for Bonitus, the Son, the greatest of all her children. The warrior charged, but the Bond with two was weaker than the Bond with five. Now Eldred was the quicker; he batted the warrior's sword arm aside and drove his dagger into the blackguard's heart.Â
With that, there was no longer a pod at all, only one sorry Deiran warrior left to face the oversized Corporian, who stood as tall as Eldred. Eldred watched them duel as he retrieved his sword. It would be the Corporian, he realized as he watched them fight; it would only take another minute or two. Meanwhile, the Corporian leader had fainted away, sliding down the tree trunk on her back. Nearby, the Corporian who had been stabbed in the ribs was still breathing, but his eyes were shut.
As Eldred waited, arms crossed, he used his foot to nudge the knife free from the hand of the dead warrior who had charged him. It was well crafted and looked to have a sharp edge, a modest improvement on Eldredâs own dagger. Eldred bent over and picked it up. The balance was good, and the grip suited Eldredâs hand. As Eldred tucked the knife away, the battle reached its end. The Corporian had finally bled the Deiran enough to weaken him and ran him through. As the victor faced Eldred, his green eyes were wild, distrustful; his thick beard and long blond hair stuck out from under his helmet. He stood panting, covered in sweat, bleeding from a dozen cuts and nicks.Â
âWhy are you coming here?â asked the man in a deep brusque voice.
Eldred drew himself up. âRevenge.â
âYes.â The man nodded. âThey knew you. They spoke your name.â
Eldred tensed. That was inconvenient. Finally, a Corporian demonstrated a modicum of skill, and it had to be one who knew his name.
The man cast an anguished look over to his superiorâshe looked to still be breathingâand then glared challengingly at Eldred. âWhat is happening next?âÂ
Eldred held out his hands. âNothing from me, but theyâll come. The Deirans were already mopping up when you fled into the woods. Theyâll come and torture and kill any of you as are left.â Eldred gestured at the woman and the Corporian who had been stabbed. âYou would be doing them a favor to end it. These Deirans are the worst sort, and they wonât be pleased to find their leader slain.â
The man shook his sword. âYou stay back.â He hurried over to the woman and kneeled by her side.
Eldred followed the Corporian over, stopping ten feet away as the man set down his blade and made a hurried examination of the injured woman. As the Corporian started pulling her armor free, Eldred shook his head. âYou donât have the time. Theyâll be here shortly.â
The man didnât look up as he went about his work. She looked smaller once she was out of her armor. Her thin, copper-colored face was heavy with pain. The man lifted her blood soaked tunic away from her stomach, which was considerably paler than her face, pausing to glower at Eldred as he angled to get a better look. Only one wound, but deep, too deep.
Eldred stepped back. âThat looks fatal. Even if they werenât about to come and kill her, sheâs dead.â
The man scowled. âAm I asking you for your thoughts?â
âYou had best leave,â continued Eldred. âYouâre only moments away from your own demise.â
âWhy are you caring?â asked the man, pressing lightly on her wound. âIf you are done drinking your revenge, it is you who should be leaving.â
Eldred cursed under his breath.
âWhat?â barked the man. âYour nameââEldredâ. Is that worrying you? Are you fearful I will be sharing it?â
Eldred frowned. âIâm certain they could persuade you or one of your companionsâif they last long enough.â
The man wet his lips. âThen be bringing me our horses. We could be leaving on them.â
Eldred shook his head. âNobody your size will be outdistancing Deirans on horseback. The only way we escape is on foot, deeper into the woods.â
The man slumped slightly. âWe have other men. The battle could be turning.â
âNo. You showed the right understanding when you fled. This battle is done. Now, you had best free them and get to running.â
The man hesitated a moment before buckling his shield over his shoulder and sheathing his sword. Then carefully, like he was gathering up a child, he slid one arm under the woman and lifted her up, pressing one hand over the puncture wound.
Eldred made a face and pointed at the injured Corporian still on the ground. âWhat about him?â
âYou will be carrying him,â said the man.
âNo,â said Eldred. âHeâs dying. Iâm not going to haul him around.â
The manâs lips twisted on his face.
âWell?â demanded Eldred.
âI only have two hands,â said the man with a sigh. âYou will be following your practice. All of you are such fine killers.â
Eldred gave him a sharp look before walking over to the injured soldier and cutting his throat. There was a momentary gurgling, and the man was gone. One problem cleared away.
âYou know the way?â asked the man.
âYes, I do. Away from here as fast as we can,â said Eldred, and he led the man deeper into the trees.
The series curse strikes again! The sheer hilarity, and frankly, the inconvenience of discovering that nine times out of ten, whenever I find a great book to read, itâs part of a series and, worse still, not even the first volume? That never ceases to amaze me. I mean, itâs uncanny. It's like I have a built-in radar.
Meet The Corporian Dilemma, by C. R. Bracher, third installment of The Heirs of Regula. As I already anticipated, I quite liked it, and there are a lot of adventures I missed in the first two stories. A discreet check on GoodReads (I have to get them, by the way) gave me an idea of what was going on in there, and from then onwards, I was able to follow Eldred without much trouble.
Heâs a strong main character, both literally and figuratively. Heâs able to keep up the plot, and the reader engaged, something that speaks high of Bracherâs writing skills. The cast of secondary characters comes off as strong as well. My favorite is Lady Yslana: I like her no-nonsense approach to things, her ways of dealing with both Eldred and the Baron.
A special mention goes to the world building. The idea of having circles reminds me of Danteâs Inferno, getting worse and worse as Dante keeps going through the afterlife. Hereâs itâs reversed, as Eldred travels from the Eight Circle onwards, but the homage is plain and well-executed.
The editing is impeccable. Itâs a joy and a relief to read a book that has been edited by a professional. Rhythm and flow check out, too, just like the dialogue-heavy prose. My favorite technical aspect, however, is that The Corporian Dilemma is written in third person. No pov shifting, no back and forth with tenses change, nothing of the sort. Plus, we follow Eldred and Eldred alone. All this ticks my âyes, this is how I prefer my storiesâ boxes.
What I didnât like. I guess The Corporian Dilemma can get a little repetitive during the first part, what with the fights Eldred has to winâagainst two opponents, against eleven, against Esicoâeven if theyâre well-handled overall.
Keeper Enolfâs hatred might fall a bit flat, too. That man doesnât waver, doesnât have second thoughts, nothing. Heâs dead set in his ways, which might be justified or not, but come off as mono-dimensional here and there. The last detail, and itâs really a detail, mind you, is the name of the sword Eldred picks up. Itâs called 'Capito', which means âunderstoodâ in Italian, and I can't help but snicker each time it pops up. I mean, Iâm sorry, but itâs funny.
4 stars on GR.