by W.E. Linde
"Loose the war machines!" bellowed Harkom, riding hard. "To the south! To the south!" A series of flags went up, proving his orders were heard.
Minutes went by, and as he watched the man-at-arms race down a slope toward the river, Laveris saw the catapults and heavy crossbows moving south towards the dragons on the shore.
"Fire as soon as in range!" Harkom called. "All of the enemy nation is coming over the river!" As if response to his words the sky appeared to suddenly boil. Red lightning flashed and curled overhead as the clouds sank closer to the earth, casting the world into a deeper gloomy hue.
Laveris sensed the onset of terror in his men. His knights could be heard rallying their troops in the face of the supernatural might of the enemy. He swore once more, and looked to Glorion. Will the wizards be able to counter this?
The war machines let loose their first volley, hurling stones and heavy arrows toward the dragons. None found their mark, and the dragons leapt into the air. Three climbed into the sky, while four paused to unleash fire on the closest soldiers. After a few moments, these dragons ceased and joined the others.
Then as if a star had suddenly descended, the crown of the Tower of Layarax radiated with a crystal blue light. The encroaching shadows from the west fled, and the soldiers of Valeot took heart. A shout, a war cry, started near the base of the tower and then grew, rolling across the armies, and became a ground shaking roar.
The heights of the Tower of Layarax twinkled, and the light faded. The seven red and gray dragons circled, flame dripping from their maws and leaping toward the wizard's sanctuary, which only blackened the white stone.
The largest, a deep red beast, suddenly made for the sky, rising higher and higher, faster and faster, and then disappeared into the clouds. The six remaining beat their wings in time, and then as one dashed away. Out of the chaotic heavens the great red dragon reemerged, enveloped in fire and black smoke as it careened towards the tower. Just as it seemed it would dash itself against the white and silver stones, a brilliant bolt of lightning arced from within and struck the beast with such force it split in half.
From the west, deep horns issued the battle call of the enemy, the War Dirge of the Dagir Xethu. Though unheard in the distance, the Dark Captains who commanded the enemy soldiers ordered the attack; like a flood the army began issuing over the bridge of bones. As they approached the eastern shore they were met by a hail of arrows. Oblivious, they pushed through, hurling the dead aside. Once on the eastern slope the enemy spread like greedy fire. Great stones fell in their midst, as did burning swaths of pitch. Yet the dead were merely trampled, and the Dagir Xethu plunged ahead.
Laveris could still hear Harkom issuing commands, adjusting the formations. Angrily he cursed himself. The enemy was pushing to the southern lines, just as he had feared. The northern lines were threatened only by the leviathans, and they were directing their fire against the river to keep the way clear for the crossing. He watched as the enemy troops flowed across the river, filling the shattered land with a speed that disregarded the flooding prepared for them. Harkom rode up, flush and breathing heavily. Laveris pointed at the unfolding battlefield.
"We may be able to encircle them. The southern line will have to hold for a while, but the northern formation must be ready to move when commanded. Order the cavalry south, and ready the reserves to do the same!"
Harkom raised his sword in salute, and turned to the signalmaster to issue the orders.
The battle was now met as the first ranks of the Dagir Xethu reached the first lines of Valeot's defenders. Despite the speed of the assault, the defenders held firm, and the initial wave foundered. Though their numbers continued to pour across the bridge, their assault was complicated by wave after wave of arrows raining down from before them and from the north.
The War Dirge grew louder, though no musicians could be seen. The enemy gnashed their teeth and pressed the attack in a fury.
Having discerned the enemy's main effort, Laveris called his squires to him and readied to ride to the front. As he pulled on his mailed gloves, he caught sight of devilish shapes hovering over portions of the battle. The Dark Captains, mounted on their dragonmares, were not only commanding the enemy. They were calling their incantations as well, summoning demonic aide from an unnamed hell. He shuddered as the air above the enemy scintillated and folded. Harsh chanting rose and fell over the killing grounds, at times rising into a painful crescendo over the surrounding clamor.
Yet the devils never broke through. Laveris turned to look at Glorion behind him. The power of the Elder Magus Layarax was likely contending with the dragons, none of which seemed able to pull away from their orbit of the top of the tower. Likely then Revhalom was now directing his arts against the Dark Captains to keep them from pulling their demons from the abyss. The prince issued a quick prayer of thanks. Grasping Valehem and his shield once more, he called his retinue and drove hard toward the enemy.
Laveris galloped swiftly to take command of the center formation closest to the southern ranks. He and his attending knights collided with a ferocious zeal, scattering the enemy soldiers and throwing back the advance in the surrounding area. The Dagir Xethu was equipped for speed, and although dark enchantments surely lay upon their arms and armor, they wilted before Laveris and his men. The horrible joy of combat took control of the prince then as he threw himself against the waves of attackers that seemed without numbers.
* * *
Exhausted, Laveris pulled back. He had been in the midst of the fray for time undetermined. His breast rose and fell under the heavy armor, and his limbs were afire. Though no enemy, whether Dark Captain or enemy foot soldier, could overcome Laveris, their numbers continued to multiply and press against the defenders. Slowly they were forced to give way, and the Dagir Xethu pushed closer to Glorion. The prince spotted his banners, where Harkom had moved the war council to be closer to him. He pushed his fatigued horse as quickly as it would ride.
When he arrived, a squire dashed up with water and bread. Greedily Laveris devoured the provisions. As he did so, he noted Harkom. The face of the man-at-arms was puzzled as he looked to the sky.
"Have the necromancers seized the heavens as well?" shouted Harkom over the din of arms clashing and men screaming. Dragons belched their sticky flaming breath with the sound of tidal waves crashing onto shore, mixed with the hunting shrieks of the dragonmares. "The day should be over!"
Laveris cast his gaze skyward. Indeed, through low clouds the pallid disk of the sun remained glowing like an ember in the same spot as when the battle began.
The soldiers noticed it as well. Those that were not actively fighting, planted closer to the tower to defend it against any enemy that broke the front lines, glanced often to the sky. Confusion gave way to mounting fear at realization that even the sun and the moon seemed to be under the power of the enemy.
Laveris handed the water bucket back to the squire. "The Necromancer Kings have truly unleashed their full might against us." He looked across the carnage which spread out all about his council. Two of the great black leviathans still burned the river, and so the land remained cloaked in fog and steam. The enemy continued speeding across the bridge of bones, rejuvenating the attack while his men grew increasingly spent.
"It may be the wizards have some hand still to play," he said. He dismounted, and the squire took the exhausted horse away as another squire brought a fresh one fitted for battle. He looked again at the sun frozen in the sky. "Now is the time the men of Valeot prepare to sacrifice all for the kingdom."
Harkom nodded. His eyes then darted back to the southern lines. He cursed, and bellowed for the signalmaster as the prince turned to look. The front line buckled as enemy banners pressed against the ranks. With a shout Laveris ordered a squad of his reserve cavalry to stop the breach. Instantly, forty armored knights galloped down the slight grassy slope. The leading twenty lowered their lances as they saw Dagir Xethu breaking through, while close behind the remaining readie
d their swords.
Laveris watched as the captain on the line acknowledged the horn blast that signaled the cavalry's charge. He ordered the signalman to pull his soldiers to the right and the left to clear the way for the knights, and like a metallic curtain the line parted wide. The Dagir Xethu swiftly surged to widen the gap, and then realized death rushed down to meet them.
Suddenly the lead war horses shrieked. Most flipped over in a mad attempt to alter direction. Several knights were crushed under the armored bulk of their steeds, while many of the others were flung forward in a bewildering crash. Only three of the lead knights kept their mounts under control, while the trailing wave of twenty reined them in.
With a thundering crash, one of the four great leviathans landed in front of the advancing Dagir Xethu. Before the fallen knights could loosen their swords, a wave of fire sprang from the beast's jaws. The screams of the knights were drowned out by the roar of the fire and the battle cry of the enemy advance. Like a wall of black metal, the enemy pushed past the fell beast as it leapt up and landed again closer to the next concentration of knights.
Laveris turned his coal black warhorse toward the leviathan and drove his spurs deep. The stallion charged while his master leaned forward and spoke commands to urge him through his terror. Finally, it could bear no more as the great beast turned to face them. It spread its taloned, bat-like wings and reared up upon its hind legs. The steed stopped in its tracks, trembling.
Laveris leapt off his mount, Valehem in his right hand and his medium shield on the other. The shield, silver with an aqua-blue circle centered within, now bore the arcane language of the magi and Layarax's enchantment. The prince charged forward up the isolated knoll where the dragon loomed.
The nearby soldiers remained locked in combat, though none dared approach them as the beast bore down upon Laveris. An ancient light flickered deep within midnight eyes that warily regarded his weapon and shield.
Without warning the beast suddenly hesitated, turning its head away from the prince to glance behind itself. To Laveris's amazement, the massive creature cowed. It dropped down heavily onto its muscular forelegs, dipping its head onto the earth. Laveris halted, breathing heavy and filled with war lust. His pounding heart urged him on, to leap, to strike the murderous creature while its head was down.
Suddenly the gloom grew deeper still, and a blast of frigid air howled from the west, followed by a preternatural silence that washed over the battlefield like a great tide. The leviathan trembled and averted its eyes. Darkness rode in, and all fled before it.
Laveris lowered his sword as a powerful presence rode through the now obliterated defensive position. A great armored creature, in the shape of a man, emerged from the steam and the darkness. Mounted atop a devilish black dragonmare, it wore the armor of the highest servants of the Necromancer Kings. Midnight black plates covered in strange symbols concealed a massive warrior's frame, and a gray cloak billowed about it. It wore an iron helmet that covered the entire head, fashioned in the shape of a horrible skull with savage dagger-like teeth.
The Xethicor had come. Of all the slaves of the Necromancer Kings — the mortals, the beasts, the living dead — none were feared so much as the Xethicor. What kind of creature, or what kind of presence dwelt within that armor, none knew. Not even the wisest of the magi knew their origins. For over a millennium, the Xethicor had led the armies of evil which sought to enslave mortal man. Their power was such that entire legions had fled before a single one. No hero of old had ever slain one without the aid of powerful enchantments and wizardry.
The creature rode toward Laveris like a conquering king, casting a demonic grin from the hideous black helmet. The prince felt his courage flee and his blood turn cold. Valehem roared at his side, but the sound was muted and distant, absorbed by a living silence and sentient darkness that rode before the Nobility of Hell.
The peak of Layarax's tower was suddenly lost in a silver-white light. As if in answer Valehem radiated an invigorating warmth that turned aside the deathly cold suffocating the prince's soul. The buckler too felt as though it were deflecting a portion of the approaching terror. A similar light sprang from the symbol of Layarax, and some of the shadows fled before it. When the Xethicor arrived, Laveris stood tall and grim, weapon raised and prepared for battle.
"Death greets the spawn of the last king of Maladine this day," intoned the Xethicor, its voice tearing into the prince’s soul, writhing in the depths of his mind like a nest of vipers. Laveris found words would not come to his dry mouth as his body did battle with the primal fear that rode upon its voice.
Laveris raised the sword of his fathers and met the black-steel weapon of the Death Knight. Every clash of the weapons exploded in a mix of black flashes and blue lightning, every blow shook the ground around them. The soldiers of both armies rallied as their champions clashed atop the knoll, and all about arms and armor rang out in a frenzied bloodletting. A death wail, like the song of banshees, reverberated from the cursed runes of the Xethicor's weapon, striving on the wind with the battle yell of the Prince and Valehem.
* * *
Harkom tore his gaze from the unearthly struggle on top of the knoll. With every flash that leapt from the battle, a corresponding flare answered from Glorion's pinnacle. Whatever power Layarax was lending to Laveris looked to be pulled from the veil of protection cast about the battlefield, as the dragons appeared once more, casting columns of fire into the midst of the armies of Valeot.
The Dagir Xethu continued to pour across the skeletal bridge, swirling around the Prince and the Xethicor. In a frenzy they threw themselves on the last defensive positions leading to the tower.
"Signalmaster!" called the man-at-arms over the din. "Move all of the northern war machines to the center line!" Scanning the savage melees raging on both sides of the knoll, he determined the southernmost lines were faltering. The line on the northern side of the hill was arrayed at the top of a slope, and the relative high ground provided enough of an advantage that the defenders, supported by the archers still positioned north of the greater battle, were holding fast. But the ground south of the hill dropped rapidly, becoming quickly flat.
A flurry of colored flags rose and fell at the signalmaster's order, and batteries of catapults and heavy mounted crossbows ground through the muck closer to the fight. In short order a deadly barrage of stones, pitch, and heavy bolts raced across the sky and fell on the reinforcements threatening the southern line. With another command Harkom sent two additional squads of mounted knights to strengthen them.
Once again the dragons came, and the ground around the knoll became an inferno. The heavy weapons glanced harmlessly from their thick scaly hides, and soon many of the war machines were reduced to ashes. Wherever the armies of Valeot rallied and pushed back the invaders, the dragons returned and dashed their advances. The powers of Layarax were being drawn into the battle with the Xethicor, while Revhalom was taxed countering the spells of the Dark Captains on the battlefield. Although the four great leviathans had vanished once more, the six remaining red and gray dragons drew closer to the fight with no fear of the magi now.
Harkom raced toward the thick of the combat on the southern flank, straight toward the banner of Prince Dehrbane. Quickly he found him, on foot and drawing his enchanted blade Tygrist from the falling form of a Dark Captain. The closest enemy soldiers fell back, and Harkom seized the chance to approach the prince.
Dehrbane called for another steed. As he mounted, he noticed his brother's man-at-arms.
"My brother?" he demanded. The elder soldier pointed to the knoll.
"Prince Laveris battles the demon prince of the Necromancers." Immediately Dehrbane turned his mount toward the hill. Harkom grabbed the younger prince's reins.
"My lord! Another threat calls you now, and the peril is just as great. The dragons!" A roar came from the sky, and fire rained down nearby. Harkom pointed at the closest of the beasts, which had landed behind the defensive positio
n and was raking the reserve soldiers arrayed around Glorion.
"None can stand before them, lord! The wizards are consumed with battling the dark powers of those devils, and your brother duels with death itself! Perhaps only you and your weapon can fend off those beasts!"
* * *
Dehrbane looked again at the hill, which seemed to have grown into a small mountain. His brother's features could not be determined. All that could be seen was a form in silver and armored in light striking and parrying against black armor and death. Then the roar of the dragon near the tower called his attention once more. With a jerk of his steed's head, he raced toward the tower.
The dragon was red and long with a thick chest. The ruby-crimson wings on its back were folded down as it unleashed another storm of fire from its jaws. Dehrbane pushed his stallion, a horse of the same fearless stock as his brother Frey's, hard up the now blackened slope. Dehrbane galloped in from behind. The creature's tail whipped high as it gnashed at the last defenders before the great doors of the tower, exposing for a moment the thickly armored lower belly.
Dehrbane commanded his horse under the beast and drove Tygrist deep into its bowels. A blast of heat expelled from the wound, causing the horse to stagger. Spinning around, the dragon howled as it drove its talons down, skewering the horse through.
The prince rolled up from under the dead horse, buckler raised as the dragon crouched to face its attacker. Furious ebony eyes suddenly sparked with red embers as the creature opened its massive jaws.
Dehrbane sprang forward and brought Tygrist down in a wide stroke, catching the lower jaw and cleaving it down the middle. The dragon snapped its head back with a shriek of agony. It attempted to bat its wings to escape, but the belly wound robbed it of strength and the creature crashed several yards away.
Dehrbane pounced, leaping up the creature's chest. With a fierce cry he drove Tygrist into the raging beast's skull. Shuddering under a great spasm that threw the prince clear, the beast fell still.
