Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  Katarina saw Bogdan and Costel turn as a squad of mercenaries broke through to the side. The two young men moved in tandem, shields raised as they advanced into the enemy. Katarina saw them spring into motion, blades lashing out and then her attention went back to the front as Hector's retinue slammed into the front of her escort.

  All was immediately chaos. Nakkiki swung about him with his club, shattering men and throwing their broken bodies into the fray. Anghel lashed out and cut down one man, then another as they edged around the angry islander.

  A group of five men tackled the big man driving him down and stabbing and hacking at him while he lashed out with fists and legs. Into that gap charged five of Hector's retinue and Hector himself. Ferrakan and Anghel moved to intercept them, but three of Hector's men peeled off to intercept them while Hector and two others charged forward.

  Mihaita and Gavril got in their way, but Hector's men engaged them and then it was Katarina and Hector. Katarina gave a wordless cry as she rushed forward to meet his attack. The Ducal Blade struck her guard with a force that sent her stumbling back... yet Hector stood shocked, clearly surprised that she'd been able to block the strike.

  She lashed out with her blade and he managed to block it with his shield. The Usurper came in again, his face filled with calculation and cunning. Katarina barely blocked his next attack, it came so quickly.

  Hector knocked her sword out of the way and drew his arm back, ready to thrust for her throat. One of his men grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. Nakkiki's war club slammed into the ground where Hector had stood.

  The big man gave an inarticulate bellow. Hector and his men stepped back as he swung again, this time smashing one of Hector's men aside.

  Anghel and Gavril moved back in position to cover Katarina. As Hector's private guard withdrew, Ferrakan came up, a single cut leaking blood into his left eye, but his blade was red. “Good soldiers,” he said approvingly, “nice little fight.” He gave Katarina a hard look, “I told you that you couldn’t take him.”

  Katarina wanted to press after Hector, but another of his companies had stepped into the way and her people closed the gap, fighting and dying, adding their blood to the soil.

  Over the clamor of the battle, she heard a rumble and looked up. Her eyes went wide as she saw that the sky had darkened. She looked back and it was as if Cederic had materialized at her side. “That's not natural!” Katarina shouted.

  He shook his head, “Something is coming!”

  ***

  Captain Aerion Swordbreaker

  The left flank was total chaos. As Ghost Company rushed forward, Aerion saw only pockets of resistance as the heavy cavalry formation swept through. He saw no sign of Earl Joris's cavalry, either they had died or fled. His company rushed forward, a smooth well-practiced manuever as men jogged in step next to each other, their spears raised.

  They came to the end of the line as they passed the last of Samen's men and Aerion bellowed for them to ready themselves. As the first knots of cavalry advanced, Aerion frowned and looked up.

  The clear blue sky had begun to darken. It was not yet ten in the morning and the day had begun to darken like nightfall. Aerion's single blue eye searched for the cause and he saw a boil of dark clouds advance down from the north. So much for good weather, he thought with resignation.

  “Ready!” He called out and the first ranks of his company dropped their spears down and readied their shields.

  The first line of cavalry came at them, mercenaries in Hector's yellow and black, with an unfamiliar banner that looked like a stag's antlers.

  “Courage!” Aerion bellowed, “Steady men!”

  Here and there he saw men run past his formation, remnants of the companies who had been cut down. A handful of rider-less horses raced past... and then the cavalry was upon them.

  The greatest strengths of heavy cavalry were momentum and fear. The ground trembled beneath the hooves of so many horses and the rushing horsmen in heavy armor seemed larger than life. It felt like nothing in the world could stop that onrushing horde. Aerion stood at the front of his formation and shouted encouragement to his men, aware that if they broke, that juggernaut would run them down and grind them into the dirt.

  The leveled wall of spears caused the horses to flinch back at the last instant. Here and there a rider went over their mount's heads and into the spears as their horses stopped suddenly. Angry riders tried to drive their mounts forward, but the horses shied away and Aerion gave a broad grin. “Advance!”

  A rider hacked at the spears in front of him and then leaned over with his sword, swinging at one of Aerion's men. Aerion stepped forward and blocked the blow with his shield and then caught the rider and dragged him from his mount. Before the man could get to his feet, Aerion kicked him in the head. His men advanced over the unconscious mercenary, crushing him beneath their boots.

  “Forward!” Aerion said. His front rank took a step forward, driving their spears at the enemy while the next rank readied themselves. As the cavalry lost their momentum, his spearmen caught riders, here and there, pulling them from their saddles or spearing them as they advanced.

  The mass of riders looked unsteady, here and there Aerion could see men look behind, looking for an escape. “Press them!” He shouted and led the next step forward.

  Then he felt a change as new riders pressed forward. These men wore heavier armor and they struck at the spears, cutting spearheads from shafts and then closing to fight. Aerion felt a chill as he recognized their commander. The woman forced her mount forward, the huge, armored black steed pushing his men aside, nearly breaking their formation with his armored bulk. “Hold the line!” Aerion shouted.

  The sky had darkened almost to darkness and Aerion pushed his way to get in Kerrel's path. As she raised her sword to strike at Dale, Aerion stepped in her way. Her sword struck his shield with a burst of flame and sparks and she wheeled her horse away. Her green eyes met his and he saw her gaze focus on his drawn sword.

  The Starblade, Aerion realized, she knows.

  They both froze, weapons readied but both of them unwilling to attack. Aramer had told Aerion of the woman's importance and she seemed to know that he carried the Starblade. Their hesitation spread, as men paused to look over, trying to figure out what had changed.

  Something had shifted, Aerion felt. He felt it all the way to his toes. This battle had changed...

  That was when the wind struck. Rocks and sand pelted Aerion as terrific gusts bellowed out of the hills. Men tumbled as the wind struck them and the panicked squeal of horses suggested that man and beast had something to fear. The sky had turned black as night, lit by eerie green flashes of light. All at once the Starblade ignited with brilliant, white light. Aerion looked north, just in time to see a dense, heavy fog sweep down off the hills, washing like an ocean wave across the battlefield.

  The fog seemed to hit the light from the Starblade and part around it, leaving an open space where the unnatural fog wouldn't go...and Aerion shivered as he saw that.

  Aerion saw movement in the fog. The screams and sounds of combat had become muted and distant. Within the circle of light, men lowered their weapons and stared around in confusion. Aerion's eye narrowed as he saw more and more soldiers from both sides emerge from the fog, drawn by the light of the Starblade.

  The first screams he heard were muffled by the fog, but the shouts and screams and sounds of combat rose... all coming from the north. The same place this storm and fog came from, Aerion realized. He looked over at Kerrel, suddenly suspicious that she had some part in this, that it must be some plan of Hector's... yet her face showed confusion as well.

  Another blood-curdling scream echoed from the fog, followed by more and more. Men were dying, cut down before they even knew what had killed them. Killed by something that hid within the fog.

  “To me!” Aerion shouted as he moved north, “Rally to me!”

  Confused men stepped out of his path and here and there he he
ard his sergeants snap out orders. Men began to form ranks. Soldiers from different squads and sections formed up next to each other as men in Hector's colors moved shoulder to shoulder with those of Ghost Company in Katarina's colors.

  Aerion moved to the center of the line. He looked right and left, saw that a thin line had formed. More and more men poured out of the fog, drawn by the light of the Starblade and the hard voices of their sergeants.

  And then dark men exploded out of the fog.

  They were tall, dusky-skinned and Aerion's eye went wide in surprise as he recognized the Armen. These men, though, were bigger than the ones he had faced at Southwatch. They charged in without battlecries, their faces inhumanly calm as they came at Aerion.

  They slammed into the thin line of spears and swords. Aerion heard men scream as the northmen hacked them down. One Armen at the lead came at Aerion with an ax. Aerion caught the blow on his sheild but the force of it drove him back a step. The Armen attacked again before Aerion could respond.

  This blow bounced off his scale mail with such power that it knocked the wind from his lungs. Aerion knew it would have cut right through if not for the runes of enhancement from the Wold. Aerion lashed out desperately and to his surprise, his opponent didn't even block. The Starblade cleaved through the man's ribs, the blade smoking and flaring as blood gushed forward.

  To his surprise, the Armen tried to attack again, but Aerion stepped forward and drove his blade into the man's face and then ripped it free.

  As the corpse fell away, Aerion saw that the thin line of defenders had begun to break. “Stand your ground!” Aerion bellowed. He leapt forward to attack another Armen from the side, driving his blade through the man's ribs and into his heart. As the warrior fell, more rushed forward, still soundless as they killed and died.

  All around him, men were dying, dragged from their feet or driven down by powerful blows. Two Armen came at him and Aerion leapt to attack. He drove the rim of his shield into the face of one and as that one stumbled back, Aerion drove the Starblade into the throat of the other. Both men tried to fight on, but Aerion finished them.

  A half dozen Armen came at him, clustered together, spears and axes ready to spill his blood. In desperation, Aerion activated his shield and all six of the warriors exploded backwards, their bodies shattered, sent tumbling away into the fog. “Rally!” Aerion called out, yet he didn't even have time to look to see if anyone was left besides him. Two more Armen attacked before he could even catch his breath. Aerion felled one with a lunge that took him through the heart, and managed to block the next attack and then hack off the arm of the second one. To his horror, the Armen simply drew his dagger with his other hand and came at him, blood pumping from the wound on his arm. Aerion clove the man's skull and then kicked the corpse off his blade.

  Yet three more Armen took the warrior's place. One hit Aerion solidly on the side of his helmet and Aerion dropped to his knees. He felt another impact, this one a hit to his chest. Sooner or later the Armen would stab through a weak point on his armor.

  He couldn't hold them all. Not by himself.

  Another blow drove him onto his back and Aerion stared up at several of the Armen northmen, their faces calm as they raised their weapons to end him.

  Aerion brought up his shield and gave a shout of defiance.

  ***

  Lady Katarina Emberhill

  The world was fog.

  Thick, clammy fog enveloped everything, clinging to her like a ghostly embrace and soaking her to her skin. The fog had a greenish, almost sickly, tint and each breath felt unwholesome.

  She could only see a few feet in any direction. At first, the storm and fog had heralded an unearthly quiet as soldiers and mercenaries lowered their weapons. Even the wounded had gone quiet, their cries stilled by the unnatural, boiling fog. To make matters worse, the sky had gone black with the storm, lit only by flashes of green lightning. Angry rumbles of thunder sounded after each flash, making normal conversation impossible.

  Then the first screams had begun. Sudden cries of panic, most often cut off with brutal finality. With the eerie way that sound carried, the cries sounded distant, but they could have been only a few paces away. She and those of her surviving escort had no way to know.

  Ferrakan's weathered face had gone grim. She could see the calculation in his eyes. He wanted to get her out of this... but they had no sense of direction. Moving around, they might stumble into the very enemies they sought to avoid.

  “There,” Katarina pointed, “look!”

  A brilliant flash of white light ignited and even through the fog. Unlike the green lightning, this light didn't herald doom. Instead, just in seeing that light Katarina felt some of her fear ease.

  That light dimmed and flared and it almost seemed to move. Without thinking, Katarina found herself drawn to it. Now and then she saw it silhouette different figures,here and gone too fast for her to understand what she saw. Around her, she heard other people following that beacon. Yet the fog dragged at them. The closer she drew, the heavier the air seemed to become and the harder it became to breath.

  The screams and shouts had grown louder and now she heard the obvious signs of battle. Yet looking around through the dense fog she picked out a mix of her soldiers and Hector's. They huddled together, their eyes wide and fearful, drawn together in the face of such a profoundly terrifying experience.

  Ferrakan tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the side. A red glow shone through the fog. The greenish haze almost seemed to retreat from it, much like the white light... and as she watched it grew closer.

  A moment later, the fog boiled away from them. Only twenty feet away stood Hector, the Ducal Blade glowing with a furious red light. Their eyes met across that distance and Katarina's sword went up. Around her, her surviving armsmen readied themselves.

  Hector's escort closed ranks and for a heartbeat, no one moved. The rivalry that had driven them this far could not be ended so easily, Katarina feared. Even with the terror around them, it was all that Katarina could do to restrain her instant impulse to attack him.

  Just then, Eleanor drew an arrow, knocked her bow, and fired, her movement too fluid and fast for Katarina to follow.

  The arrow hissed across the short distance between the two groups, faster than anyone could respond, faster than anyone could stop. The arrow, sizzling with energy, sped right over Hector's shoulder and then smashed into a figure that had just charged out of the fog. The detonation caused Hector's men to spin... just as a hundred Armen warriors charged out of the fog, weapons raised.

  ***

  Chapter XXI

  Warlord Tarjak Rusk

  Tarjak bellowed with laughter as he cut down another of the weak southerners. Early on he had directed the remade warriors as Xavien had said, but as the southerners fell apart, he had simply ordered them to kill anything that got in their way and led his sworn warriors into the fray.

  In truth, as much as he had enjoyed watching former enemies like Thar Dann follow his orders without hesitation, he felt uneasy watching them fight. Whatever sorcery Xavien had used to compell their total loyalty had robbed them of any sense of survival. They attacked with amazing ferocity and Tarjak smiled at the memory of two former chieftans hacking southerners limb from limb... but those same two warriors had been stabbed to death in the process, by feeble blows they should have been able to block.

  Tarjack looked over as his men grouped together, forming up to sweep down upon the next shattered formation of southerners. His eyes, augmented by Xavien's sorcery, saw through the fog, rendering the battlefield an open view to him.

  Better than an open view, he thought with another smile, I can sense what the fog senses, feel the presence of those who resist it. That had allowed him to send Xavien's mindless warriors against holdouts early on, but he had tired of that. Tarjak was not a commander who stood back, he led from the front, savoring the pleasure of crushing his foes in person and treasuring the panic and terror that his
men caused among the enemy.

  Tarjak wiped blood from his ax and he frowned as those senses told him something he didn't like. There was a pocket, where Xavien's fog didn't reach... and that pocket grew as he focused. Worse, the mindless warriors poured into that pocket and none of them came back out.

  Now that he concentrated on it, he could sense another pocket, also small, but growing, and here too, he sensed Xavien's fearless warriors disappearing. The southerners resist me, he thought, overcome by rage.

  He could vaguely feel the more distant pocket growing closer... but the larger one was already close. He would crush these pockets of resistance and his army would sweep across the southern lands.

  "This way!" Tarjak snarled. His men marched forward at his command. None of them could see through the fog as he could and he didn't miss how their eyes were wide with fear. Perhaps he would have Xavien turn the weakest of them, to show them the cost of fear.

  ***

  Lady Katarina Emberhill

  Katarina stumbled back as an Armen struck her a glancing blow. Before the warrior could capitalize on it, Nakkiki grabbed him by the back of the neck and then threw the man into a cluster of oncoming warriors. As all of them went down in a tangle, several of Hector's men converged on them, hacking them to death before they could rise.

  Everything had become a blur of blood and death. The Armen warriors came at them in a never-ending stream, their only weakness being that they didn't respond to attacks. Katarina flinched away as another warrior went down in a spray of blood as Nakkiki's club smashed him into ruin.

  The sounds of battle stilled and it seemed that they had killed off all the Armen in their immediate vicinity. Katarina looked back and shuddered at the trail of broken and mangled bodies. All too many wore her colors of red and white or Hector's colors of yellow and black... but just in the area cleared of fog she saw over a hundred enemy dead.