There wasn’t a man present who didn’t beat their shield, stamp their spear, or roar into the dawn. Vighon freed his sword and held it high, rallying their cry all the more. Flames or not, it was still the sword of the north and it was in the hand of the one true king.
Placing himself dead centre of the front line, Ruban beside him, the northman gripped his sword and shield and slowed his breathing down. To his left, Sir Borin the Dread stood with all the movement of a rooted tree. To be so calm, the king mused.
“Archers!” he yelled. Two hundred bows were aimed high, awaiting the command to unleash hell on the enemy. Vighon watched the undead riders begin to gallop towards them, armoured in black, unwavering in the face of true death. A little closer, he thought. A little closer. “Loose!” he shouted. A cloud of arrows feigned their reach for the heavens before raining down amongst the Reavers. “Fire at will!”
Three more salvos bit into the enemy’s numbers before the spearmen slipped between the archers and stood their ground. Vighon tried not to be disheartened by the lack of Reavers brought down under the hail of arrows, for most had taken them to the chest or limbs, their charge unhindered. Even the undead mounts rode through it all with only a handful dropping to the ground.
The king quickly turned his head to Ruban. “Get behind the spears!”
The captain scowled. “What about you?”
“I have the strongest spear of them all,” Vighon quipped, nodding his head in Sir Borin’s direction.
Reluctantly - a display of bravery in itself - Sir Ruban Dardaris backed up and took his position beside Asher, who now had his broadsword in hand.
With a few seconds left, Vighon braced himself, crouched in a battle stance with his silvyr blade resting tip-first over the rim of his shield. There wasn’t time for anything else after that. Sir Borin leapt forward and met the charging horse with his plated shoulder and supernatural strength. Both horse and rider were upended and shoved back into those behind. It created chaos on the front line and dented the enemy’s attack, sparing Vighon a gruesome death.
A passing Reaver swung out wide with its sword and clipped the side of Sir Borin’s helmet, turning the Golem back towards the Namdhorians. In that same movement, the hulking creature snatched one of the horse’s back legs and brought it to a spine-shattering halt. The rider was flung forwards, into the human ranks, while the undead horse succumbed to Sir Borin’s thundering boot, a blow so powerful it caved in the animal’s skull.
There was no stopping the Golem now.
Vighon was satisfied to leave Sir Borin to his horrifying work and get stuck in himself. The spearmen had done their job admirably and prevented most of the horses from breaking through the ranks. Absent their mounts, the Reavers were now on foot among the warriors of Illian and following their cruel master’s wishes.
Considering the space available to them on The Moonlit Plains, the battle appeared to be confined to a small area. Vighon was made aware of this with every shoulder and back that barged into him, both friend and foe. More than once he turned on an ally with the point of his sword ready to end them, only to push them away and swing his blade into the enemy.
Hacking his way through the mess of it all, the only space he came across surrounded the ranger. The intensity and sheer mayhem of the battle around him appeared to have no effect on Asher’s style of fighting, which was brutal and efficient, yet displayed all the grace of a dancer. He dropped Reavers on all sides, his green cloak flowing out beside him. The mounting bodies never tripped him up or got in his way. If anything, he often used them to his advantage, gaining some height over his opponents.
Vighon decided to lend his sword and fell in beside Asher. He utilised the extra space the ranger had forged and swung the sword of the north with all his might. He parried high and low before slamming his boot into a Reaver’s chest, launching it into Asher’s timely strike. Another came for the king’s head but met his shield, raised just in time. A swift thrust drove his blade through the fiend’s head and dropped it to the ground.
More closed in on the northman, perhaps sensing the threat he posed, and attempted to overwhelm him. Shedding their number, Asher spun around and flashed his steel from left to right, decapitating one of the Reavers with a single blow. Vighon shielded himself against another while parrying a second with his sword. No further action was required after that. Sir Borin barrelled his way through and ripped the head off one with his bare hands. Captain Dardaris, never far from his king, lunged in and cut down the other.
The king nodded his thanks and turned to face the next Reaver. There was always a next Reaver.
He pushed one of the fiends away with his shield, giving his swinging arm the perfect distance to come down and chop through its helmet and head. Nothing stopped the fine edge of a silvyr blade.
“Your Grace!” Ruban yelled, turning the king around. The captain was elevated above most, having mounted atop the pile of bodies Asher had created. “There’s a second wave!” he warned.
Vighon parried and slashed his way to Ruban’s side and cast his gaze over the furious melee. The captain was right; a second wave of mounted Reavers had held back from the initial attack, waiting, it seemed, for the northmen to be distracted in battle. Now, with no front-line defence to stop them, the Reavers were navigating around the chaos and heading towards the pit.
The king pointed his sword in their direction. “We can’t let them reach the Drakes!”
Of course, there was no disengaging from the pitched battle that had already consumed him and his men. Once he descended the pile of bodies, it became increasingly hard to discern north from south amidst the blood and incessant attacks.
He did, however, glimpse Asher’s green cloak disappearing with haste.
* * *
The ranger burst out of the northern edge of the battle, his broadsword cleaving through a Reaver as he did. He staggered across the plain for a few steps, pausing briefly to place his sword in the ground and lean on it in a bid to catch his breath. His blue eyes scanned the landscape, tracking the second wave of Reavers riding towards the pit and approaching Drakes.
Asher cursed and hefted his blade before breaking into a run. He wasn’t in the habit of leaving good men to die, but there was so much more at stake than the lives of Vighon and his warriors.
Halfway across the plain, he watched the Reavers collide with Commander Rolgoth and his burly dwarves. The Centaurs reinforced them, leaping over the first line of dwarves to meet the enemy head on. The elves added a volley of their arrows into those bringing up the rear, but the fight was certainly upon them now.
Glancing skyward, the ranger quickly located Avandriell, her wings keeping the dragon far from peril. Asher could sense her irritation, desperate to join the fight but struggling to find her place in it all. Though he hadn’t told her to stay out of it, the ranger hadn’t kept his feelings to himself, expressing his apprehension through their bond.
In truth, he was just glad to see the tree’s slow death had yet to affect her. It hadn’t escaped him that Athis had not returned with Inara. He kept going over Adan’Karth’s words like a mantra, willing Avandriell to retain as much of her raw magic as possible until they could save the tree. Asher had always put a lot of stock in age and experience, but Avandriell’s youth would be the single factor that saved her life.
Closing the gap between him and the secondary battle, the ranger was almost brought to a halt by what he saw. The Reavers hardly cared about engaging their fierce enemy, using their undead horses as nothing more than battering rams to get closer to the pit. They immediately freed themselves of their mounts, turned away from the rebels, and deliberately avoiding as much conflict as possible on their way to the edge of the pit.
Then they jumped.
In droves, the Reavers leapt with abandon into the shaft as the Drakes descended the walkway around the outer wall.
Sprinting the last fifty yards, Asher took up pursuit behind the last of the Reavers. Spotting h
im from above, Avandriell sent waves of concern across their bond. The ranger could only ignore them and do what any other would consider madness.
He leapt in after them.
The billowing green of his cloak was added to the black of the Reavers as he left the security of Illian’s earth and plunged into darkness. The undead fiends slammed into everything from beams and walkways to bridges and pulley systems, their falling weight more than enough to splinter the wood. A handful of Drakes were caught in the downpour of bodies and taken to their deaths.
Mid-fall, Asher reached out with one hand and grasped a stray rope that flew across his path. In order to prevent any serious injury to his shoulder, the ranger immediately turned his momentum into a swing and aimed his body at the nearest bridge. He hit it hard and his knees objected to the impact, causing him to roll and, ultimately, slip between the gap in the railing supports. At the last second he succeeded in grabbing the ledge with both hands, though he was forced to let go of his broadsword in the process.
Heaving himself up, Asher quickly dived to one side, narrowly evading a Reaver who was making the leap from one of the pulley platforms onto the bridge. Since the dead required no time to recover, the Reaver advanced on Asher with a downward stroke of its sword. He heard the steel dig into the wood only a couple of inches away from his head, but the ranger already had his feet coming under him, ready to spring him back into the action.
The Reaver’s next swing was blocked when Asher snatched at its wrist, halting the blow mid-strike. A firm hand to the side of its helmet, his footing perfectly braced, the ranger launched the fiend through the railing and over the side.
Further along the bridge, two more Reavers were picking themselves up after their fall, no mind given to their broken limbs. They sighted Asher but quickly turned to meet the Drakes rushing down the spiralling walkway.
“No!” Asher growled, too far to stop them from cutting down a pair of Drakes.
He exploded into a charge only to be knocked off his feet after the second step. The Reaver that had collided with him took them both through the railing and on to a swaying platform. A good deal of pain shot up one side of the ranger’s body, but he didn’t let it stop him from raising a boot and kicking the Reaver off the edge of the platform.
Rising to his feet, he looked up to see that the two Reavers who had attempted to stem the flow of Drakes were meeting their end. Had they ever possessed any real sense, they would have known not to challenge Inara Galfrey. Firefly was a blur in her hands, its deadly edge reducing her foes to pieces in seconds. Behind her, Kassian Kantaris broke away and stood his ground on the bridge, holding back another group of Reavers.
Arriving with a style all of their own, Reyna, Nathaniel, and Faylen descended the other side of the shaft at some speed. The rope taking their platform’s weight, however, was clearly fraying, promising to release its hold on the lift altogether and drop them to their deaths. Seasoned warriors, they jumped from the platform only a moment before that eventuality and landed on another bridge just beneath Asher.
Having followed their descent, the ranger could see that all their problems were only just beginning. Reavers were picking themselves up in various places around the shaft and preparing to slaughter the passive Drakes. Asher grimaced, envisioning a lot more Drake deaths before they could reach the doorway at the bottom.
“We need to clear a path!” Inara shouted across to him.
Looking down, Reyna, Nathaniel, and Faylen had already taken up that task. The three warriors laid into the Reaver force, fighting with their backs together. Free of pain and fear, the undead fiends threw themselves relentlessly at the trio, some leaping from deadly heights to assault them.
Turning his head back to Inara, the ranger yelled, “Keep them going!”
Before pivoting away, he caught Adan’Karth’s dragon-like eyes. The Drake’s gaze held the ranger in place for a second, almost slowing the entire moment down. This was not how he wanted to say goodbye to his friend, a friend who had saved his life more than once and stuck with him through dark times regardless of the peril it had put him in. He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye at all. But he also wanted to thank Adan for gathering so many of his people, theirs a sacrifice that would echo through the eons.
The moment was broken when Kassian returned from his skirmish on the bridge and ushered the Drake along with the others. Asher found his focus again and quickly planned his route back into the thick of it all. With no room to run, he was forced to jump from standing still, a leap that only just saw him grab hold of the broken beam in front of him.
His legs hanging, the ranger shimmied across until he could grasp the rope that was long enough to take him down to the next bridge. Applying his weight to the rope increased the strain on the broken beam. Inevitably, the wood snapped at one end and swung to the side of the shaft, taking Asher with it. Whether it was luck or fate - neither of which the ranger particularly cared for - he swung down perfectly in line with the surrounding walkway and half a dozen Reavers.
Raising both of his feet, he rammed into one of the fiends and slammed it against the wall of the pit. A strong shove pushed another Reaver back and gave the ranger the time he needed to retrieve the silvyr short-sword from over his shoulder. He met the first blade swung at his head with a two-handed parry. The silvyr bit into the Reaver’s steel, weakening the whole sword. Asher’s counterattack was more than enough to shatter the blade and continue through the side of the fiend’s head.
The remaining five rushed towards the ranger, but the width of the walkway restricted them to two at a time. Asher dispatched the first pair with experienced efficiency, his shorter blade easily finding the gaps in his enemies’ attacks. The three bringing up the rear posed no threat at all thanks to Inara and Kassian who, between them, created a frenzy of slashing steel. The Keeper was unlucky enough to be caught across the arm by one of the Reavers, though he still managed to lift his blade without issue.
“Keep moving!” Asher urged them all.
Following the walkway down and round, the ranger stole a glance up the shaft. The handful of Reavers who hadn’t crashed down to the lower depths were being slain by the elves and dwarves, preventing them from attacking the Drakes from the rear.
With Inara and Kassian behind him, the ranger led the advance into the darkness below. He darted out across a connecting bridge and met the cluster of undead fiends homing in on their procession. Ducking under the first blade, Asher shoved the Reaver back, into Inara’s waiting swing. The tip of his silvyr short-sword plunged through the narrow visor of the next and sliced neatly through the creature’s head. Displaying her heritage, Inara moved past him to challenge the remaining Reavers, a touch of fury to her fighting style.
Firefly spun, slashed, and hacked the fiends to pieces in seconds, freeing Asher to leap over the rail and catch the edge of a platform with his hands. The ranger swung his legs forward and dropped down onto another bridge, bringing him side by side with Nathaniel. Mimicking old times, the two warriors fell into a battle routine that complemented the other.
The last Reaver to face them succeeded in batting Nathaniel’s blade aside before landing a solid fist into hiss face, a blow that nearly saw him topple over the rail. Asher lunged to his friend’s aid and reached out to pull him back from the rail.
“Watch your back!” Faylen’s warning preceded her scimitar. The fine blade swept through the incoming Reaver’s chest, staggering the fiend enough to keep it at bay.
Asher turned on his heel and added his attack to the High Guardian’s, ending the threat altogether.
A little further down the bridge, Reyna was proving herself the best archer in the realm. Her enchanted bow, though a long-range weapon, did not hinder the elf when it came to close quarter combat. Between her powerful kicks and martial prowess, often intertwined with the use of her bow’s deadly limbs, Reyna would launch her arrows with pinpoint accuracy. Never once did the chaos or threat of death stop her from taking the sho
t and bringing down a Reaver.
At the end of the bridge, Kassian was driving his sword through an enemy in a bid to keep it away from Adan and the others. He tilted his head at the last moment and evaded the swing of another blade by less than an inch. It seemed that even without magic the Keeper was a more than proficient fighter, a fact that elevated the man in Asher’s eyes.
Inara dropped down between Kassian and her mother and hurried to the Keeper’s side. Asher gave Faylen a nod of thanks and joined the others in aiding the Drakes. Continuing down, the companions were regularly forced to split up, taking to the adjoining walkways, bridges, and platforms that the Reavers attacked from. It pained Asher every time one of the fiends made it past their defence and killed a Drake, but they were dealing with a large force and reinforcements were stuck behind the hundreds of Drakes.
“Look!” Reyna shouted, directing them to the very bottom of the pit.
Asher rammed his short-sword up and through his opponent’s head before pausing to look over the rail. The Reavers who had hit the hard ground at the base of the pit were filing through the rip in reality, crossing the threshold into the realm of magic, there to wait for the Drakes.
“We need to clear them out!” Nathaniel yelled from beside the ranger, his sword flashing high and low.
“We need to clear a path first!” Kassian pointed out, not far from the stonework now.
On the lowest bridge in the pit, Asher turned to the Galfreys and Faylen, all three having followed him to stem the largest flow of Reavers yet. With the last of the creatures lying at their feet, the four companions held a brief, but silent, conversation with their eyes alone.
Asher whipped his head around to Kassian and Inara. “Keep pushing forward! We’ll secure the doorway!”
A Clash of Fates: The Echoes Saga: Book Nine Page 51
