Agatha handed the chalice to Autem, who looked inside the cup. The chalice was filled with a syrupy, black fluid that writhed like a living creature. It was a sight that sent shivers down Autem’s spine. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Autem drank from the chalice. The potion was so putrid that Autem thought he was going to choke on it. At one point, the potion nearly went down the wrong pipe. Once the potion was in his stomach, Autem repeatedly swallowed saliva in his empty throat until the sickening feeling faded away. When he was done, Autem dropped the chalice and gasped for breath.
Within moments, Autem felt a burst of energy surge through every fiber of his being. The pain and discomfort in his spine and joints disappeared, granting Autem a form of dexterity he had not had since he was young. His muscles felt as firm and unbreakable as castle-forged steel. Overall, the wretched potion blessed Autem with a blessed conditioning he did not want to fade.
Sighing with relief, Autem said, “That is much better! I can definitely fight and win a battle in this condition! What would I ever do without you, my love?”
Even though Agatha was smiling, her eyes were sad and brooding. Softly, Agatha said, “Do not strain yourself, husband. If you die out there, I don’t know if I can secure our granddaughter’s future alone. As your Druid and wife, I advise you to win this battle at all costs.”
Snatching Gryphclaw from Agatha, Autem drew the sword from the scabbard and was welcomed by a blade that was engulfed by crackling, white electricity. Brimming with confidence and enthralled by Gryphclaw’s new power, Autem declared, “With your gifts, I can never lose!”
After Autem slid Gryphclaw back in its scabbard, Baron Fregan Styx entered the chamber and bowed deeply before Autem and Agatha, reporting, “Your Imperial Majesty, the reformed Imperial Army is ready to march. It numbers over fifty thousand strong, which consists of thirty thousand infantry, ten thousand archers, and ten thousand cavalry. As requested, we hired twenty thousand mercenaries and included them in that fifty thousand. Your chimera is sitting quietly in the courtyard and awaits your presence.
“Our scouts report that the rebel army numbers around thirty-five thousand strong with five thousand archers, five thousand cavalry, and twenty-five thousand infantry. They are a five days’ march from the capital and approaching Ragnarworth Field along the border between Raevor and Gaena. Fortunately, not only do we outnumber them, but it looks like they have only one dragon left. If we kill that dragon, our victory will be assured and this war will be as good as over. This will be the final battle that will decide the ultimate outcome of this rebellion.”
Autem and Agatha shared an intimate kiss and Autem murmured, “For Amber.”
Autem then donned his crowned helmet and followed Fregan out of the chamber, leaving Agatha alone. In her solitude, Agatha prayed, “False God, lord of darkness, death, and destruction, give my husband victory and destroy his enemies for all time. Secure my granddaughter’s future and ensure her eternal happiness. Grant me these wishes and I will offer you whatever sacrifice you desire.”
Agatha stood in silence for a few moments and patiently waited for the gods to answer her prayer.
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Kemrin watched the sun set as his army set up camp on Ragnarworth Field. The plain was so vast that no mountains, hills, or forests could be seen for miles. In addition, the surface was so flat that it was impossible to gain the high ground or conceal a sneak attack. A league away was the Sylva army making camp. Towering over the enemy tents was Emperor Autem’s chimera, which loomed like an angel of death. Despite the presence of the chimera, Kemrin was not worried as he looked above to see Razos circling in the sky.
As Kemrin continued to survey the scene, Erik approached him and gave him an affectionate jab in the shoulder, saying, “We’re almost there, brother! The Imperial Throne is so close I can almost taste it! Can’t you?”
Shrugging, Kemrin answered, “After everything we sacrificed, I hope it is worth it. Gather the men. I have an announcement to make.”
In half an hour, Kemrin was presented with his remaining army, who were looking at him with hope and resolve. Razos landed amongst the host and watched Kemrin with longing.
Taking a deep breath, Kemrin declared, “Beloved friends, remember this day. One way or another, the fate of the entire Empire will be decided in this one battle. If you promise to bring down Autem Sylva, blissful dreams await you because a tyrant will be slain. If you promise to free your children from House Sylva’s rule, your descendants will rejoice. In the name of the Gods and all that is holy, pledge me your swords willingly and limitless rewards will await you if we are victorious. Now take your positions and pray for victory!”
After that speech, Kemrin’s army erupted into deafening cheers and they raised their swords over their heads. Razos spread his scarlet wings and roared with a jet of fame streaming from his mouth. Then the men chanted, “Magnus! Magnus! Magnus!”
Pride and optimism enveloped Kemrin as he watched his soldiers acclaim him. Kemrin then fastened his helm and walked towards Razos as his army took their positions.
Once Kemrin hoisted himself onto Razos’s scaly back, Razos said, “That was some speech, Kemrin. You certainly got everyone in an uproar.”
“I’m not certain, Razos. If we lose, everything I just said is just words. The Sylvas outnumber us by fifteen thousand and they have a chimera that can kill a dragon. Caelum and Rhea are dead, Vaeron and Nergal are dead, Ymir is trapped in Umbran and Faxia is crippled, and Daegar and Mendryg are heading north to help Ymir restore order. We lost two-thirds of our army and we are on our own. The odds are stacked against us like never before. What kind of emperor would I be if I am unable to keep my promises?”
“Even if we lose, your speech should give the men enough morale to give the Sylvas one hell of a fight!”
“Then let’s not keep them waiting!” Kemrin declared, drawing Gramfyre from its scabbard.
Within a few hours, Kemrin took to the skies on Razos with their army marching below them. Ahead of them was the place where the fate of the Empire would be decided.
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On the other side of the plain, Autem gathered his army and addressed them on top of his chimera. The great beast growled and grunted beneath him in a way that resembled thunder. A series of blue sparks crackled between its fangs. Autem wondered what the creature was thinking and feeling. He heard rumors that the Magnuses shared an empathic bond with their dragons, but Autem and his family had no such connection with their chimeras. As far as Autem concerned, the chimeras were just mindless behemoths that were mystically bound to obey anyone with Autem’s blood in their veins. For all Autem knew, the chimeras were as empty as the zombies in fairy tales mothers used to scare their children.
Autem was clad in his gilded armor with a violet cloak billowing from his pauldrons. In his right hand was Gryphclaw, its Ferruman blade glowing with electricity. His helm resembled a human face and had the Imperial crown fastened on top. Overall, Autem was every bit the image of an emperor.
Placing his free hand on his armored stomach, Autem wondered, Agatha said her potion will maintain my vitality through the battle, but she never told me what it would do to me after it wears off. I lost all of my sons. If I die before I can secure my granddaughter’s future, the Sylva Dynasty will hang by a thread. I have to stay strong or all is lost!
Sitting firmly on his chimera, Autem addressed his troops, saying, “My loyal vassals, hear me! The enemy we face is a formidable foe! For the past few months, they have ravaged our lands, butchered our people, and stolen our riches! Their leader, King Kemrin Magnus, claims to be the true emperor of this world! Lies! The madness they have wrought ends today! Today, we will drag them into whatever foul hell will have them! Are you with me?”
Raising their swords, the Imperial Knights and mercenaries shouted, “Sylva! Sylva! Sylva!”
Basking in the praise of his men, Autem drove his chimera into the sky, and his army followed. In the distance, the f
inal battle was about to begin.
CHAPTER 26
A tense silence enveloped the field as the armies of Magnus and Sylva faced each other. Their proud banners flapped in the wind like the rippling surface of a lake. The atmosphere was so volatile that it would only take the slightest movement to invoke chaos. Behind the Magnus host was Kemrin on his dragon, while Emperor Autem rode his chimera behind the Sylva force. At the rearguard of the Magnus army, Edgar and Bjorn Torren sat on their horses, surrounded by their bodyguards. With Kemrin ready to engage the Emperor himself, Edgar and Bjorn were placed in charge of the ground forces.
Turning to his father, Bjorn asked, “Their army seems smaller than the scout reports. They said the Sylvas had fifty thousand men gathered here, but it looks like they have around thirty thousand. Where are the others?”
Squinting through his visor, Edgar suggested, “They could have split their forces to arrange sneak attacks, or maybe the scouts exaggerated their numbers. Either way, the enemy is before us and we pray to the Gods for victory. Have faith, my son, we survived for this long. We will survive this battle as well.”
“I still have dreams about all the previous skirmishes, Father. In every one of them I thought I would die, but the Gods spared me. What if they don’t spare me this time?”
“I felt the same way when Numen and I overthrew King Robar at Foxden. Before then I had never fought a single battle. When the siege was broken, I thought I would never know peace again, but I gained something from the fray, resolve. Use the resolve you accumulated and you will make it out of this alive. Stand firm!”
At that moment, the war horns sounded across the field, causing both armies to bellow in defiance of one another. Steel armor and weapons rattled loudly while the dragon and chimera roared. The gates of fire and darkness were opened and all that was unholy was about to spill out. Eager for combat, the Torrens drew their swords and lowered their visors as they joined their troops in the uproar.
“Cavalry charge!” Edgar loudly ordered.
In response, a series of standard-bearers waved green flags down the army’s ranks. After the flags reached the front of the host, five thousand heavy cavalry charged from the vanguard towards the Sylva force. At the same time, the chimera and dragon took to the skies. The Battle of Ragnarworth Field had begun.
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The commander of the Sylva army, Baron Fregan Styx, sat on a black war horse and carried a poleaxe. He laughed mirthlessly as he saw the Magnus cavalry charge towards him and his men-at-arms.
“Those Magnuses are either bold or foolish to send their whole cavalry at us like that. We have a few surprises for them and they don’t even know. When this battle is over, I will be dining amongst their corpses. Send in the first wave!” Fregan ordered, smiling smugly.
After the standard-bearers signaled with their flags, at least ten thousand infantry marched in unison to meet the enemy cavalry with a formidable wall of polearms. The soldiers were armed with spears, halberds, pikes, and billhooks. While the Sylva infantry formed a straight line, the Magnus cavalry approached their foes in an arrowhead formation. It was clear that the Magnuses hoped to punch through the spear wall like a blade puncturing plate armor. Within moments, the two waves clashed in an explosion of blood, mud, and steel. Swiftly, the skirmish turned into a gory free-for-all as men were dragged off their horses, impaled by polearms, and crushed by the increasing mass of dead bodies. Eventually, the mound of corpses formed a large crater at its center while misfired dragon flame set the crater’s rim ablaze.
Sniffing the air, Fregan sighed, “I love the smell of blood and steel in the morning.” Fregan looked up to see the dragon and chimera battle overhead and added, “Don’t think you can defeat our Emperor, boy.”
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Kemrin rode Razos over Ragnarworth Field as they prepared to clash with Emperor Autem and his chimera. Below them, the battlefield resembled a plain that had multi-colored grass and was blooming red flowers. The scene had a malignant beauty from that height. Returning his attention to Autem, Kemrin drew Gramfyre and roared in defiance as Razos charged at the chimera. When the two great beasts were in range, they blasted one another with fire and lightning, lighting up the sky in a brilliant display of gold and blue. Each time Razos and the chimera dueled, their flames and electricity negated one another yet sprayed mystical sparks on the armies on the ground. After multiple elemental exchanges, Razos and the chimera collided and wrestled midair, their wings flapping frantically as they tried to bite into each other’s throat.
With their mounts locked together, Kemrin and Autem climbed over their shoulders, backs, and heads until they were close enough to engage in a sword duel. Although both combatants were eager to fight, their surroundings were less than ideal. Their footing was dangerously uneven and a gentle breeze threatened to make them fall to their deaths. Still, they both knew that if one of them died, the war would end one way or another. Throwing caution into the wind, Kemrin and Autem clumsily advanced on each other. Gramfyre became enveloped in fire while Gryphclaw was engulfed in lightning. When the two swords came in contact, they released a blast of magical residue that showered the surrounding area.
Grunting through his helmet, Autem growled, “You think you can come down here and take my crown, boy? Don’t be a fool!”
Pushing against his foe, Kemrin retorted, “Your bastard son killed my father and ravaged my home! Did you think I would not take it personally? Killing you and taking your crown for myself seems like the ideal revenge! Wouldn’t you say?”
Chuckling mirthlessly, Autem commented, “It seems we are more alike than I realized! I am glad to be fighting you on this day! Survival doesn’t matter! Let’s just enjoy this fight while we can!”
After that exchange, Kemrin and Autem continued to slash at one another with increasing ferocity, narrowly missing their targets. The roars of their mounts filled the air and their footing became ever more treacherous. Suddenly, Razos and the chimera started to freefall to the ground. Kemrin and Autem ceased their duel and grabbed hold of whatever they could to prevent them from falling. Their eyes became dry as the wind blew in their visors and their innards churned violently from the extreme torque.
Finally, Razos and the chimera turned at the last minute, causing Kemrin and Autem to fall into a crater of corpses in the middle of the battlefield. The two men tumbled down a slope until they were in the center of the mound, their crowned helmets knocked off of their heads. Their surroundings reeked of the putrid stench of death and smoke. A ring of fire ignited the rim of the crater, separating Kemrin and Autem from their armies. Struggling to their feet, Kemrin and Autem brandished their swords and faced each other down.
Laughing, Autem declared, “This is more like it! Now we can fight on the ground like real soldiers!”
Scoffing, Kemrin added, “Only one of us can be Emperor of this world! Let the best man win!”
Then the two warriors lunged at one another, but their movements were less than graceful due to their footing being uneven. A wrong step either squished into a corpse’s chest or snagged on fallen weapons and armor. Despite their unfavorable surroundings, Kemrin and Autem continued their advance. When the pair clashed, Autem quickly gained the upper hand with three swift strikes that Kemrin was barely able to parry. With Kemrin’s defenses failing, Autem dealt a quick slash at Kemrin’s abdomen. The wound Kemrin received from Gryphclaw was like nothing he had experienced before. Kemrin’s breastplate and chainmail were superheated as the blade cut through while his flesh and muscles became numb from the electricity generated from Gryphclaw. As a result, Kemrin was forced to fight in a stooped fashion.
As surprised as Kemrin was from by his injury, Autem continued his onslaught, discarding finesse and skill for brute strength. Screaming with bloodlust and exhibiting a crazed expression on his face, Autem lashed at Kemrin’s right arm. Kemrin grunted with pain and frustration as Autem cut his shoulder and forearm, which caused Kemrin’s grip on Gramfyre to weaken. Des
perately, Kemrin swung Gramfyre around and scored a hit on Autem’s left pectoral muscle and left thigh. What started as a civilized duel swiftly turned into a brutal and dirty brawl as both combatants frantically tried to kill one another.
Forced into a blade-lock, Kemrin and Autem stared each other down. Suddenly, their concentration was disrupted when a chorus of trilling cries echoed from the western side of the battlefield. They could not see what was happening beyond the flames encircling the crater, but Autem displayed a knowing smile.
“What have you done?” Kemrin demanded.
“Your army is finished, rebel boy! My reinforcements have arrived!” Autem sneered.
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Edgar, Bjorn, and their comrades looked behind them to find another army forming a pincer movement on their host’s rear and flanks. However, these soldiers were more grizzled and frightening than normal men-at-arms. It was clear these were battle-hardened murderers. There had to be twenty thousand total and it was a force that was unholy beyond words.
Frightened, Bjorn asked, “What in the name of the gods are those men?”
Hesitant, Edgar hollowly answered, “Emperor Autem has made a pact with the False God! Those are the fiercest mercenaries in the southern kingdoms! Fight to survive, son! Fight to survive!”
The War of the Gilded Beasts Page 19
