Enchantress (The Evermen Saga, Book One)

by James Maxwell

  "I know, I know," said Ronell. "Miro?"

  The speed of Miro’s response made it clear he’d thought about it. "Attack. Take the initiative. I’d split the army and form a second, fast-moving force—"

  "Bladesingers gather!" a voice called out. "Raiding party!"

  "Be careful what you wish for," Ronell said soberly.

  ~

  RONELL glanced at Bartolo, who glanced at Miro.

  They stood in a large circle. It was the way the bladesingers always held their meetings. Miro counted roughly seventy bladesingers, a lethal force but not a huge one. They stood impassively — weapons that had yet to be unleashed. The rain didn’t seem to bother them at all. They all glowed softly and the drops never seemed to touch them.

  Blademaster Rogan waited until they were assembled and then spoke without preamble.

  "A division of the legion is encamped inside a narrow gorge, Harlan’s Canyon, the Halrana call it. The scouts have reported they’re unaware of this army so close by.

  "We can’t leave them at our backs. Prince Leopold has come up with a plan to bottle them up with a force at either end of the canyon. Bear in mind — the canyon is narrow. So narrow that it will be strength, rather than numbers that will win the day. That’s where we come in.

  "The plan is to put an elite group at either end of the gorge. At one end will be the veterans, the most experienced of our soldiers, equipped with enchanted armour, shields, swords and spears. At the other end will be us, the bladesingers." He looked around steadily. "This army’s deadliest weapon."

  "Altura!" the men growled, their voices deep.

  Rogan continued. "After engagement, the more mobile of the two forces, the bladesingers, are to melt back into the valley, where the legion will pursue them and encounter the main force. The remainder of this army will lie in wait."

  There was silence for a moment.

  Bladesinger Porlen spoke up. A small man with wiry strength, he was one of the more vocal bladesingers. "This is not a good plan. You do not cage a beast."

  "Care to be more specific?" Blademaster Rogan said.

  "The legion’s backs will be against the wall. There is nowhere for them to run. You should always give your enemy an escape route."

  "Prince Leopold’s plan is for them to have that escape route."

  Porlen shook his head. "But not initially. They will see fierce enemies on all sides. They will fight like demons, for they will see it is a fight to the death."

  "All the more reason for us to follow the plan to the letter, then."

  Porlen just shook his head, murmuring to one of his fellows.

  Rogan spoke for some time more, outlining the further details. "We leave at dusk. It’s three hours journey, so get some rest now. When the moon rises, we will light a beacon, attached to a small dirigible. This is the signal to attack. That is all."

  Miro could tell by the Blademaster’s tone that he didn’t believe in the plan either. On the face of it, it seemed good — the chance to wipe out an entire division of the legion — but the risk was there for all to see. It was dangerous.

  Ronell grumbled when they returned to the remains of their meal. "I don’t like the sound of this."

  Around them, Miro could hear the common soldiers talking to each other, sharing their fear. The bladesingers radiated confidence, but the general mood of the men was crucial.

  Miro projected composure he didn’t feel. "Our part will be simple — to draw the imperials back to the main force. As long as we make that our goal and do nothing brave — and by brave I mean foolish — we’ll be fine."

  "How close behind us will the main Alturan army be? How long will we have to lead the enemy?"

  Miro shrugged. "I don’t know. We move a lot quicker than the main force, so perhaps an hour?"

  "An hour!"

  "Or it could be less."

  "Or more," grinned Bartolo. Miro shot him a dirty look.

  "Yes, or more."

  "Lord of the Sky," Ronell muttered.

  Miro knew Ronell was just voicing his nerves, the fear they all felt. They said nothing more as they settled in to get some sleep.

  None of them did.

  23

  Do not merely give lip-service to the Evermen. Give yourself in your heart. Serve the poor and the needy. The greatest threat to the future is indifference.

  — Sermons of Primate Melovar Aspen, 538 Y.E.

  "QUIET. Do you hear something?" Bartolo said.

  A small hare burst out of the bushes. Ronell’s runes flared brightly as he instantly responded with an activation sequence.

  "Change your sequence, now!" a voice hissed. It was Bladesinger Huron, the next ahead of them.

  Ronell’s chanting changed and the glow instantly stilled. There was a whole new inflection just for dimming the glow of the runes while they were activated. The chanting stopped completely as Ronell deactivated. Miro didn’t blame him, he wasn’t chanting himself. It was just too hard to do it quietly.

  They walked in single file through the damp forest, their breath steaming in the frigid air. The sound of water dripping onto leaves was incessant, but for some reason the sounds of the forest were completely absent. No insects buzzed, no animals called. Perhaps they sensed the presence of intruders.

  Miro felt a hand restrain him. The trees thinned ahead and they would soon be losing their cover. Part of him longed to get out of the dripping thickets, but another part didn’t want to leave their protection. Miro guessed no one was looking forward to the exposure out on the hills.

  It had been a gruelling journey, trudging through swamps and thick forests with fear always at the back of their minds. The most difficult part was the silence, the bladesingers didn’t speak, their communications all made through a complex language of hand signals that Miro and the other two recruits were still learning.

  The waiting finally ended, and the bladesingers left the cover of the forest, moving in a single line through the hills.

  It was rough, rocky ground, littered with stones of all sizes, ranging from tiny pebbles to massive boulders. Miro stepped carefully to avoid displacing the stones.

  The moon rose as the bladesingers sped across the ground, a deadly force, but with Miro feeling terribly exposed. In the silver moonlight Miro could see the ground rise on either side to form a gentle valley. As they moved closer, the walls of the valley grew steeper until it became the mouth of a canyon.

  Miro realised the difficulty of their task now, how the reality of the situation was so different from what he had imagined.

  It was open ground, well lit, with minimal cover. Miro didn’t know what the other end of the canyon was like but he hoped it was better than this. It would be simplicity itself for scouts to be posted who could easily see the dark shapes moving towards the canyon. They should stop now.

  They halted behind a huge rock, the best cover they would find for some time. The bladesingers grouped together, conferring.

  Bladesinger Huron breathed into Miro’s ear. "Shadow. Activate. Quietly."

  Miro passed the message along to Ronell and Bartolo. He held eye contact with each in turn for a moment. First Bartolo nodded, and then Ronell.

  This would be the first true test of their training.

  First Miro began a slow steady chant, the volume of his voice as low as he could make it, naming the runes one after another. He started with the inflection that dimmed the glowing, then added agility. He thought of adding protection, and slowed his rhythm, first making sure he was grasping the current sequence. Then Miro added protection, the runes glowing softly, almost dark. He felt the armoursilk strengthen as the material was imbued with the power to turn the strongest steel.

  Miro concentrated, his breath rising and falling evenly. Then he added shadow. His chanting was slow and even, the way he had been taught.

  He looked around proudly. He’d done it. As his lips moved he found he was able to compartmentalise his mind, to continue the chanting as part of his breath
ing. The sequences took on a sing-song quality, like a softly sighing ocean, the lightest of men’s voices raised in harmony. The need to keep their voices quiet gave the song an eeriness Miro had never experienced before.

  Miro knew the bladesingers were waiting for the recruits. They radiated utter calm and confidence, the song expertly woven around them. Their runes were glowing so softly they were almost imperceptible — part of the shadow effect. The rain fell around them strangely as it hit their nearly invisible bodies. It was incredibly disconcerting, seeing the rain fall on nothing like that; all that was visible above their armoursilk now were their heads and hands; the rest was ghostly. Miro wondered if this contributed to the bladesinger legend. He shivered with pride to be here.

  Ronell’s chanting also came slow and even, and Miro’s smile at him was shakily returned.

  Everyone turned to Bartolo, who was having trouble. Miro let Bartolo see his lips, trying to guide him through the process. Finally the recruit nodded, finding his rhythm, and his song joined the others.

  Miro saw a bright light rise into the sky, somewhere in the distance. It was the signal.

  A hand was raised, and then lowered. The bladesingers ran now, creatures of the night, their song rising and falling with their breath.

  Like a flock of predatory birds descending they entered Harlan’s Canyon. It was as dark as pitch and Miro found it difficult to keep with the group. He followed them by their singing, but the sound of his own voice made it difficult.

  The sheer walls of the canyon rose on either side. The night sky was bright above but the moonlight was unable to stretch down this far. Miro looked up, his head tilted back to see the high summit of the cliffs.

  At the same time as he saw the figure, looking down from the heights of the cliffs, it saw him.

  "Attack! Bladesingers!" the figure called. A whirling disk flew from one of the bladesinger’s hands to strike the figure. The voice was quickly cut off.

  But it was too late. The canyon erupted in chaos.

  Suddenly Miro saw there were soldiers everywhere, some prone on the ground, blinking with sleep, others in armour holding swords and spears.

  Miro hadn’t realised how far they were into the legion’s camp.

  A bright light flared up, the shine of a prismatic orb. It flew through the air in a graceful curve to land among the bladesingers.

  They all dove to the side as the powerful weapon exploded, sending rock and dirt everywhere. The bladesingers’ runes flared up as the blast was deflected by the armoursilk. Miro saw cuts on some of his companions’ faces.

  Miro realised that the top of the canyon was lined with soldiers. It gave the imperials a terrible advantage. Orbs began to rain down on them, exploding with lethal force, the bladesingers still far enough from the main encampment for the enemy to be confident of missing friendly forces. The need for stealth gone, Miro’s voice rose as he added more powerful protection sequences to his chant.

  Then, as one, the bladesingers drew their zenblades. Miro drew his with them, feeling the power of it in his hands.

  He added its song. His zenblade flared, bright as the sun as it was activated.

  "Altura!" the bladesingers took up the cry.

  In the bright blaze of light, Miro realised the sheer number of black-garbed warriors, already forming into squares as their officers took control. He saw mortar teams readying the lethal weapons. It was insane, for seventy men to face up to a force of thousands.

  The bladesingers threw themselves at the legion.

  Miro ducked the spear of a warrior and thrust out with his sword. The man’s body exploded, blood spraying out. Miro carried the force of the blow through the legionnaire and into the next man, cutting off an arm before the movement turned him away.

  Miro’s voice came strong. He felt it in his blood, in his armour, in his sword. He blazed like a wildfire into a score of legionnaires, scattering them before him. He felt a spear slide off his armoursilk and threw himself at the soldier who held it. The soldier backed away but thrust again, trying to find where Miro’s body wasn’t protected by the enchanted silk.

  Miro felt another spear cut into him, again deflected by his armour. Looking around, he realised he had perhaps leapt too far into the throng of enemy warriors. He was surrounded by spears. If a spear caught his face, if he faltered, he was dead.

  An idea occurred to him, and he added shadow, quieting the brightness of the runes. Miro’s body disappeared. But for the glowing runes, he was just a face, hands, and sword.

  It gave him the edge he needed. Miro leapt and darted between the legionnaires. He thrust into a man’s side. Blood burst from the warrior’s body. Miro’s zenblade sparked against a shield, cutting it in half.

  Miro’s vision was a blur of grunting, thrusting men. Then he saw a commotion in the distance. The second Alturan force must have arrived at the other end of the canyon. Miro felt the pressure of the warriors increase. There were just so many of them. They were unstoppable, like a wall of flesh.

  Miro looked around and saw the other bladesingers begin to fall back.

  The imperials felt their opponents turn, and pushed by the force behind them, they eagerly surged forward.

  Miro saw a bladesinger go down under the throng, the rushing crowd simply too fast, too powerful. With the bladesinger’s song disrupted the runes began to fade. Legionnaires crowded around the fallen figure, hacking at it with their swords. A huge man, his head shaved, suddenly held up a human head. The imperials cheered.

  "Fall back!" a bladesinger cried.

  The legion roared in response.

  The bladesingers began a strictly-controlled withdrawal action. About half the glowing warriors would fight a delaying action against the horde, while the other half fell back and, taking positions, would then fight while the others withdrew.

  A buzzing sounded, growing louder before the swift shape of a dirigible flew overhead. Prismatic orbs again rained down from above. An explosion sent gouts of smoke billowing, blinding those below. Miro added as much protection as he was able, but the complexity grew too hard to follow and he started to falter. He gave up shadow and was just able to keep the sequence going.

  Miro saw Ronell ahead, the runes starting to darken as the panicked recruit seemed about to lose his song. Then Miro was forced to fight, turning back to face the horde.

  Miro parried a vicious blow from the two-handed sword of a black-armoured soldier twice his size. The force of the blow pounded at his head but his crossed zenblade managed to block it just in time. The legionnaire’s weapon had silver runes glowing along its length — explaining how it had survived the clash with the zenblade. Miro pushed against the legionnaire with the full weight of his body. The legionnaire fell back for an instant only, before, recovering, he smashed his shield against Miro’s body. The armoursilk flared as it hit the shield.

  Miro realised in a contest of brute force he was never going to survive. He swung twice in quick succession, forcing his opponent back. Looking over the legionnaire’s shoulder he saw rank after rank of the enemy. Miro started to back away. Seeing his enemy draw back, the legionnaire’s confidence grew and he raised his arms to strike. It was the opportunity Miro had been looking for. He ducked and hacked at the legionnaire’s legs. The zenblade carved through his knees as if they weren’t there. The legionnaire screamed: a terrible sound.

  Miro realised he needed to pull back; he was among the last of the bladesingers facing the enemy. He removed a prismatic orb from the belt at his waist.

  "Kuhn-rah!" Miro activated the orb, his song momentarily lost as he did so. A spear flew through the air at him, scoring his shoulder — a messy wound, but fortunately not deep. Miro threw the orb into the crowd of black-clad soldiers, resuming his song as he turned.

  He never saw the explosion behind him, but he felt the blood splatter against his back.

  Miro ran to catch up with the bladesingers in front of him. He found Ronell panting, prone against a wall, an express
ion of terror on his face. Ronell’s runes were completely dark.

  "Ronell!" Miro cried. He grabbed hold of the recruit, shaking him. "You must resume your song!"

  "Can’t… do… it…" Ronell panted. "No… breath…"

  Looking back, Miro saw the horde running for them, only moments away.

  "Slow your breathing! Start with protection only!"

  The effort of talking while interspersing his sequences was taking its toll on Miro too. He stopped trying to talk and, taking Ronell by the arm, began to run. Miro could just see the other bladesingers in the distance.

  Fortunately, their armoursilk was infinitely lighter than the heavy armour worn by the legionnaires. The two recruits quickly drew away, but ran for only a few minutes before they both tripped over something.

  It was the broken body of a bladesinger, his green armoursilk gone dark. Fire had taken most of his upper body, leaving the lower half remarkably intact.

  Ronell stared at the man in horror, his breath steaming. The recruit’s armoursilk was still dark.

  Miro stopped his song. He would only have this one attempt.

  "You need to resume your song! Quickly, just start with the first sequence for protection!"

  Ronell panted, his breathing coming ragged. "Just leave me… Just for a moment… When… breath comes back… No problem… song."

  Miro looked over Ronell’s shoulder. They had gained in height. In the distance he could now see the green of the Alturan soldiers chasing the swarm of legionnaires, pushing them hard from behind. The bladesingers were nowhere to be seen. The imperials would be with him in moments.

  "I can’t do that! You must keep running!"

  Miro took the resisting recruit by the hand. Resuming his own song, Miro began to drag Ronell forward.

  Neither of them saw the silver orb leave the mortar and fly in a huge arc, glowing brighter and brighter as it fell towards the ground.

  The explosion was like white fire, blinding Miro’s vision. It was directly above their heads, perfectly timed to detonate at its most lethal proximity.