The Fractured Heartstone

by Ian Thornburrow-Dobson

  ***

  The thundering of hooves reverberated around the Queen of Ythelia and the sheer volume of the tumult around her made her want to plug her ears shut. In spite of this fervent wish, Elhara remained composed and an aura of regal calm filled the air around her. She turned in the saddle that was mounted to a white stallion of pure muscle and looked at the chaos that followed in her wake. A vast dust plume rose from the column. Hundreds of mounted knights were pressed cheek by jowl. Behind them dozens of large wagons trundled behind and fatigued workers toiled mercilessly to drag the wooden beasts forward. Many of them were overburdened and had to be wrenched free by these poor souls whenever they became bogged down. The whole procession was quite the sight even though it only represented some three thousand men; a small fraction of the manpower at the Queen’s disposal.

  Elhara turned to face the direction in which they were headed. At her side the stocky frame of Katharlis rode next to her in silence, as was his way, and often the two of them barely exchanged a word for hours at a time. He had a severe, stoic demeanour about him that put Elhara on edge, though she would have never dared let her emotions betray her and so the Ythelian Sovereign adopted the look of cold confidence that had worked wonders under much more strenuous circumstances. The column had been on the move for many days and the progress had been slow going but after many difficulties and obstacles had been overcome, the border was now close at hand. Among the group a few nobles and dignitaries had been practically dragged along and they complained in nasal tones of displeasure but a single look from the Queen had silenced them. A brief visit from their Sovereign one evening had rectified their attitudes and they had barely uttered a peep in protest since, much to Elhara’s satisfaction.

  Scouts had been sent out periodically throughout the journey from Maleardhus and every time they had returned with no news, which seemed to satisfy the General but Elhara still had nagging doubts that plagued her waking moments. The warning message from Ydari had been quite specific and she was resolute in her decision to march her troops to the border to counter whatever threat they found. Each day that passed however, Katharlis had become more cocksure that the Captain’s warning was nothing to be taken seriously and seemed to delight in reminding the Queen of this opinion between bouts of lengthy silence. Elhara already found the man barely tolerable at the best of times but his constant reminders of this seemed to make the General more and more odious. In spite of this, Katharlis was a tactical genius that had served in the military even before she had been born. As such, he was a man to be respected and listened to; particular in matters of combat and warfare.

  Queen Elhara’s mind began to wander as she sat astride the roan with her eyes fixed on the horizon. There had been a lull in whatever passed for small talk between herself and the General that had lasted for several hours. The rest of his men were well trained and disciplined and dared not to speak unless Katharlis had given them leave to and, as such, the only thing to hear was the general din that accompanied thousands of soldiers and workers all toiling their way closer and closer to the Ythelian border. Elhara lost track of time as thought after errant thought drifted through her mind and the world at large passed by largely unnoticed. The Queen was draped in an elegant white dress that billowed out behind her as she rode. A knight would occasionally dare a glance at the Queen but would quickly look away for fear of being noticed.

  The hours fell away like leaves from a tree in autumn with the silence occasionally interrupted from dry factual statements from Katharlis or hushed laughter from the soldiers around Elhara as they shared a private joke. Abruptly, a man on horseback ahead of the column came riding up at breakneck speed and skidded his mare to a halt in front of them. Katharlis raised an arm and immediately the entire procession ground to a halt as the scout climbed down from his exhausted mount and sprinted up to the General. Katharlis shifted in his saddle as he kicked his heels into his own horse’s flanks. Elhara followed suit and the two of them approached the scout who dropped into a bow as the Queen trotted closer.

  “You may rise,” Elhara commanded formally. “What news do you bring?”

  “I bring word from the border your Highness but I was told to report to the General,” the Scout began uncertainly. He suddenly looked flabbergasted as his gaze passed between the Queen and the stocky frame of Katharlis.

  “If you don’t mind your Majesty, I need to talk with this man. This is a military matter and he is my scout,” said Katharlis somewhat condescendingly.

  “I don’t mind at all General. After all, you too are a member of my army,” Elhara fired back with a disarming smile. “What is your message?” the Queen asked the Scout once more.

  “I have returned from the Ciphearyn border your Majesty. Enemy troops were fording the river Utharne and setting up a beachhead on the other side as they waited for the rest of their column to follow,” the Scout reported.

  “Azreus’ beard,” Katharlis swore. “Was there anything else?”

  “Yes General, I’m afraid so,” the Scout replied timidly. “I watched the Ciphearyns crossing the river for some time to get an idea of their numbers when they were joined with a force of Ljarthaalian soldiers.”

  “It seems Ljarthaal and Ciphearyn have allied themselves in their war against us, just as you feared,” the General declared solemnly. “Your Majesty, do I have permission to make the men ready for battle?” Katharlis asked, turning to Elhara.

  “You can get them into battle formations General,” Elhara began. The huge man relaxed in his saddle as he turned to address the men directly behind him but a single word from his Sovereign pulled him up short. “You can form defensive ranks but that is it. We are here to meet whatever threat, if any, this enemy force represents but you are only to engage them in battle if they do not listen to reason. Do you understand?”

  “Your Majesty, please allow me to protect your Kingdom,” Katharlis responded pleadingly.

  “Do you understand?” the Queen repeated in a low voice.

  “Yes, Your Highness. It shall be as you command,” he said at last in resignation.

  Katharlis instantly barked a series of orders to the knights around him. The commands were hurriedly passed to the rest of the column and suddenly the swathing mass of soldiers swarmed to the head of the procession and formed ranks with professional efficiency. The lower-class rank and file stood at the centre of the formation and they were armed to the teeth with spears and short swords along with their thick shields while the mounted knights amassed either side of them. As the soldiers pressed forwards Elhara looked upon the lines of soldiers and, even to her untrained eyes, she noted the conspicuous absence of any archers. The men kept streaming forwards as the troops that had already taken their place were joined by hundreds more. Behind them the wagons and provisions were almost forgotten as the servants and unskilled labourers took the place of the warriors that had helped attend to the more mundane duties that came hand in hand with moving such a large force.

  Elhara’s mind raced as the three thousand soldiers of her retinue advanced with regimented care. Time seemed to be at a standstill as Katharlis continued to bark orders this way and that, shouting at some men to tighten their formations whilst runners constantly ran between the various sub-commanders who watched over a specific section of the massed troops. Katharlis’ overbearing nature came into its own as he quickly scrutinised each and every detail of his men as they marched closer and closer to the Ythelian border. Every so often the General’s gaze would lock onto the horizon as if enemy troops would suddenly come into view and descend upon his men like feral dogs. In spite of Katharlis’ wariness, the advance went smoothly as step after unflinching step brought them closer to their foe.

  Abruptly the land fell away before them and the banks of the Utharne River greeted them along with the bristling points of hundreds of spears and the dull shimmer of light bouncing off of breastplates. Katharlis’ mind worked quickly as he took note of the enemy troops that now waited for th
em and his keen eyes picked up two distinct shades within the roiling mass of men; a clear indication that the soldiers of Ljarthaal and Ciphearyn had indeed linked up. The General issued another order and his voice boomed around the landscape. In the distance he could barely make out alarmed calls coming from the massed men below and they suddenly formed a rag tag line of spearmen whilst the Ythelian soldiers formed up into neat formations.

  Queen Elhara looked on with growing interest as her army marched further forward before stepping short and setting up a defensive line. She cast her eyes about and saw dense foliage on the right flank of the Ythelian army and she smiled to herself surreptitiously, in spite of the growing tension. The other army meanwhile seemed disparate and unorganised as their line constantly buckled and pushed forwards in places, giving them the impression of a man-made wave convulsing on the bank of the river. The Ythelian army remained still a few hundred yards from their foe and stood poised, waiting for the order to attack. The rabble across from them jeered and hollered raucously before a mounted knight appeared in their midst. After a few muffled bellows the soldiers opposite arranged themselves in small clusters.

  The two armies remained deathly still and an eerie silence fell across the would-be battlefield as each side took stock of their enemy and waited. The atmosphere grew tense as seconds dragged by, both sides standing as still as statues. Overhead the sunny weather turned overcast as rain drizzled from the sky and it was as if the Gods themselves were anticipating the bloody slaughter that was sure to come. Katharlis rode up and down the column of his men, bleating his commands over and over before settling beside the demure frame of the Queen. Elhara meanwhile had simply sat astride her mount and tried to keep her face as confident as possible since even a shred of fear could lead to a devastating plummet in morale. The silence dragged on as Katharlis leaned in his own saddle toward his Sovereign.

  “How does it look General?” Elhara asked.

  “If we have to fight then I like our chances,” Katharlis began. “We hold the high ground and from my reckoning we have the advantage in numbers as well. I trust the ability of my soldiers while they are two separate armies that have been forced to work together. Overall, I am confident of victory.”

  “But it won’t come to that,” Elhara responded as she locked her eyes onto the General meaningfully. “Will it?”

  “I’m sure you can use your diplomatic skills to affect a peaceful cessation of hostilities,” Katharlis replied robotically. As he said this, he turned his head and rolled his eyes subtly in chagrin. “So, what would you have us do now, your Highness?”

  “Send a runner with a message for the leader of the opposing force. I believe this can still be resolved peacefully,” Elhara replied calmly.

  “Very well. Though I don’t think they’re going to leave here without a fight.”

  “Your opinion is noted. Now do it.”

  Katharlis quickly called for a scribe who hastily approached and the General dictated a message before nodding to the line of enemy soldiers. The scribe followed the General’s gaze uncertainly, his eyes baulking in terror as he looked upon the enemy horde. He finally gave a half-hearted salute and set off with a reticent gulp of terror. The Queen’s eyes were set firmly on his dwindling figure as he raced past the Ythelian army and sprinted towards the opposing faction. The air of tension thickened with every passing second as the unfortunate Scribe wound his way closer and closer until Elhara finally relaxed, breathing a metaphorical sigh of relief as she watched the opposing soldiers close around him.

  From across the valley jeers and shouts of triumph were heard as the ring of soldiers parted. The now headless body of the Scribe was tossed arbitrarily at their feet while a man in the front lifted the man’s head aloft. The shouts reached fever pitch as they paraded with their grisly trophy. Katharlis coughed meaningfully and the Ythelian Sovereign nodded at once. Her meaning was abundantly clear to the General as he barked commands tersely and it was as if his voice suddenly activated thousands of automatons. As one, the Ythelian infantrymen locked shields and formed a defensive line, their spears angled over the shield wall in preparedness whilst their foe continued to celebrate the brutal slaying of an unarmed messenger.

  The opposing rabble ceased their self-congratulating display and seized their weapons in hand. Behind them the leaders of this ragged band vainly attempted to instil some sort of order to the proceedings but their blood lust had not yet been sated and the decapitation of the Ythelian had caused the men to bay for more. As one they surged forwards, all of them screaming at the top of their lungs as they plunged headlong at the shield wall that stood between them and their righteous. As the horde advanced, the Ythelians stood their ground. At a single command, the infantry in the middle raised their spears and threw them with deadly accuracy. Hundreds of spears rained down onto the vast clump of men and slammed into them mercilessly, crushing ribs and bone under the sheer impact. Blood gushed from scores of wounds and dozens upon dozens of men fell to the ground, never to move again.

  Around the fallen men, more soldiers burst forwards and raced recklessly toward their Ythelian foe. Katharlis’ men reformed the imposing shield wall and stood their ground as their enemies continued to charge with reckless abandon. The General shouted another order and figures from the densely forested strip of land beside the mounted knights suddenly erupted from within its confines. Elhara instantly recognised them as the archers that she had looked for earlier. Each of them had their bows drawn and they fired their arrows at the advancing column. Their foe was peppered with a hail of withering fire and dozens more fell under their shafts. The archers continued to rain death and destruction onto the Ciphearyn and Ljarthaalian troops and their right flank crumbled.

  The centre however was out of range and these men finally reached the Ythelian frontline. They crashed into their shield wall like a great wave smashing into a rocky cliff and for a moment the sheer press of humanity threatened to overwhelm them. They buckled further as more and more men joined their comrades and for the briefest of moments it looked as if they were about to break through. The Ythelians pushed back and stood their ground as they withdrew their short swords and hacked away at any errant limb or body that presented itself. Soon, blows were exchanged between both sides and the agonised screams of the wounded and dying filled the air to join the chorus of the unfolding melee. The fight devolved into a deadly stalemate as both armies ripped one another to bloody ribbons. Katharlis nodded his head at one of his sub-commanders and the cavalry began to move, sweeping around to encircle their foe. As the knights galloped in huge arcs and bore down on the enemy infantry, horns blared in the distance. Katharlis suddenly looked in the direction of the interruption. He swore loudly to himself and his face drained of colour as he took stock of what was unfolding.

  “What is it General?” Elhara asked, acutely aware that this new development was not to Katharlis’ liking.

  “It’s a column of soldiers marching to join the ranks of our enemy,” Katharlis replied hoarsely. “The Tirgaalians are coming.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ydari looked out at the smug form of Feraal as he strolled around the clearing in front of him, exchanging jokes with his fellow cultists and laughing heartily. Despite not knowing the man very well, Ydari found his demeanour to be a personal affront and his face fell into a semi-permanent scowl as a result. Raelynne meanwhile practically shook with anger and her eyes remained firmly fixed on the man she had assumed to be a friend and confidant. Her cheeks reddened with fury as the seconds passed, her stare unwavering as she traced the traitor around the encampment like a hawk watching its prey. Bustling from the bushes behind made Ydari turn as Idrahil and Kael crawled their way through the undergrowth and slotted themselves between the Watch Captain and now irate mage.

  “What’s going on?” Kael asked tersely. “Why are we just sitting here?”

  “Because of them,” Ydari stated matter-of-factly, pointing towards the groups of Draconis Legium
members that toiled tirelessly or wandered around in small groups.

  “What are they doing here?” Idrahil interjected.

  “That’s what I intend to find out,” Raelynne added, her voice as cold as ice and as hard as iron. Her gaze hadn’t wavered the entire time they had spoken.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kael inquired with a raised eyebrow.

  “That man there is Feraal. He’s the man you saw me meeting with when we started our journey from Maleardhus,” the mage spat acidly. “He’s apparently working with these jackals and I intend to find out how he is involved in all this.”

  “And just how do we pull that off?”

  In the clearing beyond, excited shouting erupted which sent clusters of robed cultists scurrying over to the strange arch that was under construction, interrupting the flow of the conversation before anyone could reply to the vagabond’s question. The stones that formed the archway suddenly lit up with a bright orange hue and a series of low-pitched sounds emanated from it. An excited hubbub followed as more cultists dashed over to it and they clamoured around it for a moment while it continued to resonate the same earthy tone. Feraal was among the slowest of them to react and he merely looked in the direction of the archway as if only mildly interested. He stood frozen on the spot for a moment and looked as if he were still making up his mind about whether or not he wished to get a closer look at what had swept up his fellows in a frenzy of animated chatter. As they gathered around it the light faded slowly and the stones ceased all activity, much to the disappointment of the cultists gathered around it.

  Ydari and his cohorts remained hidden in their hiding spot and watched as the numbers of their enemies thinned out one by one until Feraal was virtually standing alone. The Watch Captain edged a little closer to the copse when suddenly Raelynne stood up and whistled loudly. Feraal turned on the spot and looked at where the source of the noise came from, craning his head this way and that as his eyes tried to penetrate the darkened depths of the boughs that obscured Ydari and his companions. Feraal moved closer as something caught his eye until he was only a step away from being swallowed by the undergrowth. A few tense seconds passed before Raelynne emerged from the trees and snatched Feraal who let out a strangled cry of desperation. His voice was silenced immediately as the angered mage bore him to the ground and pinned him down expertly, clamping a hand over his mouth to silence him before he had a chance to alert anyone to their presence.