Death's Paladin

by Christopher Donahue

  Lokhaz, I wish you were back in the hills.

  The lancers drew their long swords to meet a rush of Hykori horsemen. Thankful the Shushkachevan mercenaries were gone, Karro plowed into the struggling knot of men. He cut down one inept Hykori lancer after another. The amateur riders in stolen armor were no match for the Tuskaran wedge.

  They broke those Hykori, but more enemies pressed in. Armored spearmen and frantically aggressive undead held the dwindling force of lancers in place. The remaining undead no longer enveloped Karro’s infantry, but attempted to form a plug to keep the avenging army away from their cursed queen.

  A beastman landed on the back of a Tuskaran lancer beyond Karro’s reach and pulled his victim to the ground. Lokhaz, remounted, was hammering furiously at a knot of ghouls. Karro’s kinsman glowed with the touch of Auros and the undead did not rise after Lokhaz struck them.

  A spear thrust grazed Vision’s side. The injured warhorse struck ahead and behind, but more undead crowded in for the kill. Locked in the press of bodies, Karro could no longer see the Temple and Macmar infantry he heard fighting behind him.

  Separated from Karro by dozens of Hykori and twenty paces of open ground, Voskov stood beside a woman who radiated ancient corruption and limitless hunger. The woman wore fine clothes of immodest Hykori cut and held a golden fan. Surely the creature was the Hykori’s undead queen, Mallaloriva.

  Bors dove in to rake Voskov’s face with wicked claws. The sorcerer caught the tiny creature, snapped its wings and threw it to the ground.

  ~~~~~

  Voskov pulled back his left arm. The solid blow Mallaloriva struck with her fan startled rather than injured him.

  The queen’s eyes blazed red. This day she did not bother with the magic making her look human. The black paint around her eyes and on her lips made the pale ivory of her skin and the inhuman crimson of her eyes stand out starkly. “Pay no attention to that pest. We have serious work before us. You cannot let a rabid bat or a few bandits interrupt us.”

  A ragged volley cracked from beyond the struggling horsemen obscuring Voskov’s view. Attacking footmen continued to hammer the hung-over remains of the queen’s forces. The butcher’s bill for clearing the Tuskaran Ward had been nearly enough to break the victors before this fight had even begun.

  The damned Paladin’s few men were cutting deeply into what remained of the Hykori army. Mallaloriva did not seem to understand how much Bringer’s death meant to her Empire. This latest attack was faring better than it should without Bringer. The newly trained necromancers controlling the rest of the undead lacked any real skill. The drove their unwilling victims at the avenging troops but were only buying time, no longer killing the Macmar and Temple fanatics.

  The queen behaved as though none of this would matter if she could carry out her latest bit of sorcery. Voskov felt defeat in the air, as he had on the field when he faced Ulneriev and Karro over a year ago.

  The enemies’ weird chanting hammered at Voskov’s headache. It drove a shudder of dread into him in a way the undead no longer did. Those men welcomed their deaths if it brought Voskov’s with it. The bass sound rattled his heart. The same chanting made him use up his entire new batch of trinkets against the troops who had surprised them from those barges.

  Voskov couldn’t tell what would remain of the old Hykori undead after they stopped the Tuskaran lancers. With Bringer dead, the ancient undead were an irreplaceable resource. But those lancers had to be stopped.

  As the tireless Tuskaran cavalry pressed on, their black mail glittered in the late afternoon sun. At the head of those killing machines, that damned Paladin cut down spiritshifters, swampmen and the undead with equal ease.

  Death clamped down against Voskov’s urge to run. <>

  Voskov felt Death’s hesitation. They were linked in a way denying a total lie.

  With a strong undertone of forced hope, Death said, <>

  The deep scratches along Voskov’s cheek stung. Blood from the nicks in his forehead dripped into his eyes, the salty blood stinging and blurring his sight. He blinked to clear his vision. The injured creature that had been Bors crawled away, its broken frame convulsing.

  The part of Voskov’s soul that drove him to use magic to overthrow Ulneriev balked at finishing Bors. Voskov cursed himself. For Bors to hate him meant all Voskov had done was not only a waste. He was destroying more than he could ever have built.

  Death took control of their body. <>

  Voskov concentrated on Death’s hidden thoughts. Death was hiding something about this ceremony and that secret was very possibly dangerous to Death as well as Voskov.

  ~~~~~

  Near Karro, another Kulkas lancer fell with a cry of despair. Karro kicked Vision mercilessly, forcing a path through the swarming Hykori. His sword sheared spear shafts and arms with equal ease, but the Hykori and swamp men kept pressing in.

  Finally, the Hykori drove a dozen riderless horses around Karro to screen themselves from his deadly blade. The crush of battle kept him immobile.

  Beyond the horses and struggling men, Voskov and the other Hykori magicians bustled in the last stages of some sorcerous preparation. A pale, bald man in purple robes led a giant Hykori in bronze armor of the most ancient style to face the Shushkachevan sorcerer. The Hykori’s bat-winged helmet towered above Voskov. Despite the roar of battle, the sorcerers held Karro’s attention.

  The cursed Book is there! All of this freely-shed blood will give their sorcery even more power.

  The robed man completed a circle of yellow powder, several paces in diameter and enclosing Voskov and the Hykori giant. The Hykori pressed his hand to Voskov’s chest and a mist formed around that hand and forearm. The mist stretched with the giant as he stepped back, connecting him to Voskov. Sprinkling some powder into the mist, the purple robed man directed the Hykori to a point inside the circle, facing Voskov. Where the powder fell, mist coalesced into a gray ribbon or bar.

  Vision savaged the horses around him, but could not force a way through the screaming, riderless beasts. A beastman leaped onto a horse beside Karro. He met the creature’s attack with his whirling blade. A killing wound, lit by blue fire along its edges, toppled the howling beastman under the stamping hooves of panicked horses.

  Unable to reach any other enemies, Karro turned his attention back to the sorcery. A second ribbon connected the purple robed sorcerer to the Hykori queen, intersecting the one between Voskov and the huge Hykori at the center of the magic circle. The perimeter sparked and flashed.

  Waves of nausea flowed over Karro. The battle around him fell off as living opponents clutched their heads or stomachs.

  Within the circle, dozens of clawed hands reached out of the ground. Unlike the summoning Karro had dispelled on the Plains, these came out of the earth in solid form. The ground rippled and sucker-tipped fingers as wide as a woman’s waist jutted through the crumbling crust. The sick, spinning feeling intensified. Even the undead seemed to feel the effect of the evil radiating from the pulsating, gray flesh. The huge fingers closed around the cross connecting the queen, the Hykori giant, the robed man and Voskov. Muscles bunched as the hand pulled on the cross.

  Karro concentrated on the Voskov’s face. Something not human lived inside that shell. While the inhuman presence within Voskov was caught up in the foul summoning, some human part twisted Voskov’s face in revulsion.

  A racket sounded through the blasted gate of the Tuskaran Ward. The distinctive call of entrumas echoed off the walls. Rushing down the causeway from the ward came dozens of battered Tuskarans. At their head rode Aruna and a score of Temple troopers on the backs of entrumas. Some Tuskarans w
ho had survived the taking of their ward joined the desperate attack. Slime-slicked armor couldn’t hide Kestran’s figure from Karro.

  Kestran. Alive!

  Karro felt renewed in a way no touch from Auros had ever revived him. His muscles still ached, but his heart swelled and pumped energy through his battered body.

  The rushing Tuskarans concentrated pistol fire and hurled javelins against the sorcerous circle. The Hykori giant and the robed man were driven from the circle, dispelling the cross. The enormous gray hand clutched vainly at air.

  The hand became a moving mist. A keening howl of frustration shook the earth, but the sickening feeling of the greater demon’s presence faded.

  The nearest Hykori had fallen to Lokhaz’s lancers and no longer held the riderless mounts in place. The press of animals around Vision lessened and the warhorse drove the lighter beasts out of his way.

  The queen, now separated from the gray ribbon, shouted orders in Hykori and the pressure around Karro fell completely away. The Hykori undead ran to surround their queen.

  “Finish the Paladin, you fools,” Voskov screamed at the confused Hykori and swampmen troops.

  The purple-robed man kicked at the yellow powder of his first circle. Stepping well-clear of the obscured circle and its churned ground, he began pacing another circle. Voskov ran for an orange-scaled dragon held by the leather-armored woman who had followed him so closely.

  Vision lurched forward and Karro cut down the last mounted Hykori attempting to block his way.

  Another cut and another darting undead fell with its head split open. A surviving Kulkas lancer looked at Karro with amazement clear on his face. A beastman pulled the distracted man from his horse and the pair struggled on the ground.

  Karro cut down a spear-wielding swampman and swung around the lancer’s horse. The young man desperately pushed at the beastman’s face as it pressed down. Karro struck a long slash across the beast’s back, splitting leather armor and damned flesh.

  The beast grabbed the lancer and rolled both of them under the lancer’s horse. Karro urged Vision around to finish the beast and save the man.

  A blow turned Karro’s helmet into a bell. A starburst of pain in the side of his head blinded him. Only his tight grip around Vision’s sides kept Karro in the saddle. Instinctively, he brought up his shield in time to block another cut to his head. Karro swung his sword blindly around his shield. The chopping blade grated on mesh mail. He dropped his shield enough to see Voskov preparing another attack.

  The powerful blow split Karro’s shield, breaking the strap holding the shield to his forearm. He tossed the ruined wood at the Voskov. His left arm and side were nearly numb from the abuse.

  Wheeling Vision sharply to the left, Karro faced Voskov, sword arm to sword arm. Then he saw the inhuman presence living within Voskov. When Karro recognized a force so much like that of Auros, a shudder shook his soul.

  The thing that was Voskov swung an overhand blow at Karro’s head. Karro blocked, but his blade was forced down to scrape against his helmet, pushing his bent visor shut. Karro’s sword was made for severing and not as suited for swordplay as Voskov’s saber. But it would not matter.

  Voskov leaned across to force the blades down further. A grinding sound came out of Voskov’s mouth. Midway through the word, Karro could no longer hear. His pain flowed away and a golden haze settled over everything.

  Karro felt the touch of Auros and heard himself saying “You’ve had too much your own way, Hopeless Death. Now the fight is between the two of us.”

  Voskov’s eyebrows shot up. In an instant, fear replaced the rage in his eyes.

  Karro threw Voskov’s heavy saber back. The move left the Shushkachevan toppling in his saddle. Karro struck a blow across the man’s side. The ornate Riverine cuirass split open and Karro’s blade made a shallow cut. The sorcerer’s dragon hissed and snapped. Voskov pressed his left hand to his injured right side. An inhuman roar ravaged the Shushkachevan’s throat.

  Off-balance, Karro hacked his sword at Voskov’s side again. The sorcerer’s desperate parry slid Karro’s blade down to cut through mail and into the sorcerer’s thigh. More blue fire danced across the wound. A shadowy mass drifted from Voskov’s chest, along his sword arm and into his heavy saber. His face lost the demonic cast .

  “No, don’t leave me now!” Voskov screamed. The blue fire of Voskov’s wounds died away, but the red blood continued to flow. Karro faced a purely human foe.

  Thinking of his debt to Talodan, Bors and so many others, Karro struck at Voskov with a rain of sword strokes. Karro forced his aching arm to rise again and again. He made no attempt to defend himself as he attacked the sorcerer.

  The Shushkachevan met each blow with skill. A different type of possession overcame Voskov as his counters became more and more desperate. Battle fury reddened his face and Voskov’s parries became offensive strokes.

  Karro now found himself on the defense. Voskov’s attacks came as from a homicidal maniac. His eyes bulged and white spittle flew as he screamed words incoherently. The sorcerer hammered at Karro in a frenzied attack leaving no room to strike back. Voskov pitched his buckler aside and rained two-handed blows on Karro.

  Calling upon Auros, Karro gripped his sword with both hands. Rising in his saddle, Karro abandoned his defense to meet Voskov’s stroke with all of his might. In a bright flash of white light the sorcerer’s blade shattered. Cries of frustrated rage mixed with an undertone of relief as shards of the broken blade fell around them.

  Voskov dropped the hilt of his ruined weapon and rocked listlessly on his mount. Karro shook off his surprise and raised his sword to finish the sorcerer.

  A screeching beastman knocked Karro from his saddle. The creature landed with its knees on Karro’s solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. A sweep of its claws ripped the visored helmet from Karro’s head. The tearing chin strap scraped his jaw raw. He fought for air as the creature, clearly female, glared into his eyes.

  Vision’s steel-faced hoof smashed into the side of the beast woman’s head. The creature rolled away, clutching her bloodied face, but all-too alive.

  Voskov shook his head and looked around, wild-eyed. He saw Karro and kicked his panting dragon to trot away, the injured beast-woman staggering in his wake.

  Karro looked for Kestran. Filthy Tuskarans chopped at living and undead Hykori with a will. The beleaguered Hykori queen broke from a knot of attackers. Unarmored and apparently unarmed, the queen turned on a pair of pursuers and swung her open fan across the belly of the nearest man. The Tuskaran fell to the ground, trying to force his spilling guts back into place. She grabbed the remaining attacker, brushing his mace aside. She pressed against him like a lover and he began to scream.

  Recovering enough breath, Karro struggled onto Vision’s back. None of the few remaining Hykori dared come near him. He lost sight of Kestran in a knot of Tuskaran warriors and Hykori undead.

  The Hykori giant in the bat-winged helmet dragged Voskov from his mount and over to the new yellow-powder circle near the open causeway gate. The blood-spattered queen had renewed her connection to the purple-robed mage.

  Voskov argued with and finally struggled against the giant as the Hykori forced him into his former position within the sorcerous circle. The Hykori army, still outnumbering Karro’s force and the Tuskarans from the ward, formed a wide ring around the sorcerous circle.

  The Hykori giant pressed his hand to the sorcerer’s chest. Voskov screamed. Mist again formed around the giant’s hand, much wispier than the previous cloud. Voskov seemed to droop to his right in a faint. The giant grabbed Voskov’s shoulder and pulled him upright. As the Shushkachevan straightened, he swept his hand up from his boot top. Voskov drove a glittering black blade into the giant’s throat and sawed furiously.

  The Hykori staggered backward, hands going to his ravaged neck. In an instant the giant disappeared, his archaic armor crashing to the hard earth in a hollow, ringing pile.

  Karro sen
sed the moment. Standing high in his stirrups, he called out, “Faithful ones, their sorcery has failed. The True God prevails. Attack!”

  The purple-robed mage made a pass with his hands and his connection to the queen dissolved. She stumbled back for a few steps, shaking her head.

  Vision lunged forward at Karro’s urging. Hykori warriors fled his approach, leaving him a clear view of Voskov remounting.

  Karro grinned and taunted the Shushkachevan with the words of Auros. “It’s just the two of us.” He spurred Vision and the weary charger responded, winding a path after Voskov.

  The mage in the purple robes turned to face the roar of Aruna’s charging entruma. From within his robes, the mage drew a silver-bound book. He tilted the tome to catch the rays of the sinking sun. Red light reflected from the cover and played across Aruna and the Temple arquebusier riding behind him. The arquebus exploded, throwing both men from the entruma’s back.

  The mage turned toward Karro and pulled a shining disc from his robes. He faced the charging Knight with a smirk and bent the disc between his thumb and forefinger. Its flash blinded Karro. The brightness increased and became a burning across his face as the mage spoke unintelligible words.

  A gasp replaced the droning words. The searing pain ended abruptly. Karro’s sight cleared to see the riderless entruma’s jaws releasing the mage’s ruined arm and crumpled book. Those massive jaws snapped on the purple-robed man’s torso. The mage’s weird, pale eyes widened with disbelief. He coughed up blood. The entruma jerked the mage from his feet and rushed for the water, its prize waving his arms weakly about.

  A shaken Voskov reeled in his saddle. The bloody-faced beast woman held the orange dragon’s reins for her master. The beast woman turned to face Karro and sank into a crouch, her bared short sword held low and out to her side.

  A flare of sparks caught Karro’s eye. In the open space near Voskov and the Hykori Queen, Kestran shouted at her enemies.

  Kestran fired her pistol into Mallaloriva’s chest. The queen brought up her golden fan to cover her face in a modest movement mocked by the whorish cut of her pale gown. She approached Kestran with long strides, as much a sliding dance as a walk.