“I know that sigil, my lords,” said Rudolf, pointing at the knight in the red surcoat with the raven badge. “That’s Sir Rumric Tolbiac, lord of this village and the surrounding lands. I believe his fiefs brush against the lands claimed by the city of Falconberg, and he often brings lawsuits and petitions against the city on behalf of the Duke of Ribaria.”
“It looks like they’re about to come to battle,” said Ruire.
“For God’s sake,” said Radobertus, his exasperation plain. “We’ll have to intervene.” He turned to the standardbearers and barked a command. “Make sure the standards are visible.”
A ripple went through the line, and Radobertus gestured, casting a spell. All men of the Empire knew the Seven Spells that the Guardian Rilmael had taught the first Emperor and his men in the deeps of time, but the five Imperial Orders all had their own secret spells and lore. One of them was the Voice spell, a spell of air magic designed to amplify the speaker’s words to tremendous volume. It had been created by the Order of the Griffin, but the spell was so useful for battlefield command that it had spread to many of the nobles and knights of the Empire.
“In the name of the Emperor!” roared Radobertus. His voice was loud enough on its own, but the spell made it boom from the sky like a thunderclap. “I am Radobertus Vilmar, Count of Vilmar, Chancellor of the Empire, and I command you to desist from this violence and put up your swords! Is the Empire so short of foes that you must wage war upon each other? Cease this useless discord!”
A ripple went through the militiamen and the townsmen as the soldiers of the Order of Embers rode into the valley. Tyrcamber saw a brief conference among the men around Sir Rumric’s banner, and another among the men of Falconberg. Suddenly a half-dozen horsemen turned from the peasant militia and galloped towards the front of the Order’s column, Sir Rumric’s banner flapping overhead. A few seconds later a small group of horsemen in the green and gold of Falconberg rode from the soldiers on the west side of the bank, splashing across the creek.
“Be ready!” shouted Rudolf down the line. “Shields out! You, you, you, get up here and defend the Chancellor and the Master!”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Ruire, though he did not countermand the serjeant-captain’s orders. “I think they’ve come to plead their cases to the Chancellor.”
A dozen serjeants arranged themselves in front of the Master and the Chancellor, shields ready, and Tyrcamber prepared to summon magic if the situation turned dangerous. Angaric remained slouched in his saddle, a bored expression on his face, but the fingers of his right hand opened and closed as they did when he was preparing to cast a spell.
“Lord Chancellor!” said the knight on horseback, a heavyset middle-aged man with a long graying beard. “I am glad you have come! I am Sir Rumric Tolbiac, lord of Tolbiac, and these burghers,” he spat the word with contempt, “are infringing upon my rights to this land.”
“We have done nothing of the sort,” said one of the Falconberg soldiers, a haughty-voiced young man atop a horse. He had golden hair tied back in a tail and a bushy mustache. “I am Captain Michael Gantier of the men-at-arms of Falconberg, and I am here by the direct authority of the Shield of Falconberg himself.”
Radobertus grunted. “And what does the Shield want with Tolbiac?”
“To stir up trouble for us!” said Rumric. “To dig up things that ought to be better left alone!”
“We are exploiting mining rights to that hill,” said Gantier. “The founding charter of Falconberg, given to us by the hand of the Emperor himself, grants us the lawful privilege of exploiting unused land and forest rights in the surrounding villages.”
“Fool,” said Rumric. “That hill is dangerous.”
“Which hill?” said Radobertus.
Rumric flung out a hand, causing a few of the serjeants to start Shield spells, but instead pointed at the hill on the western side of the creek with its crumbling dark elven tower. “That hill. Oh, it looks safe enough, aye, but there are hidden passages and vaults buried beneath it. Sometimes dark things lurk there. The men of Tolbiac know well enough to leave the hill alone. But these fools,” he glowered and Gantier and his men, who glared right back, “arrived this morning and began digging into the hill. They will wake up whatever darkness dwells beneath the tower, and when they ride off to their stinking city, we shall be left to deal with the consequences.”
“I am here by the authority of the Shield of Falconberg,” said Gantier. “There may be valuable ores inside the hill. Since Sir Rumric in his indolence has decided to let the hill go to waste, the Shield authorized me to investigate.”
“Because we are wise enough not to meddle with pointless danger!” said Rumric, his face darkening. “By God, sir! You should fall to your knees and praise heaven that the Lord Chancellor arrived when he did. Else I would have driven you off my lands and sent you horseless and unshod back to Falconberg.”
Gantier sneered. “As if the soldiers of Falconberg need fear the rabble of peasant scum you command.”
Rumric’s eyes narrowed, and violence might have started then and there, but Radobertus’s voice rang with command.
“Enough!” said the Chancellor. “Our Empire faces innumerable enemies from without, and you waste your time squabbling with your neighbors? Captain Gantier, I am on my way to Falconberg. You and your men will escort us to the city and leave the men of Tolbiac in peace.”
Gantier’s eyes narrowed. “You have no authority to command the soldiers of Falconberg.”
“Don’t I, sir?” said Radobertus, his voice now soft and cold. Master Ruire gestured, and more serjeants moved up. Tyrcamber shared a look with Angaric. Gantier had forty men, all well-armed and armored, but Master Ruire and Count Radobertus had five times as many, and they were better trained and equipped with the superior arms and armor of the Order of Embers.
Gantier looked back and forth, his brain catching up with his eyes.
“I am the Lord Chancellor of the Frankish Empire,” said Radobertus. “I speak with the Emperor’s voice. And I have no time to waste on the petty squabbles of prideful men, not when the Valedictor thinks to rebuild the dominion of the Dragon Imperator. So, I say again, Captain Gantier, you will…”
“My lord! My lord!”
Tyrcamber looked to the north and saw a horseman galloping towards Sir Rumric’s party. The horseman was armed with an old sword and a battered wooden shield, and his mount was, in fact, a plow horse. The big animal looked vexed at having to run so fast.
“What is it, man?” said Rumric.
“The muridachs!” said the horseman.
Tyrcamber’s hand jerked towards his sword hilt.
“Muridachs?” said Rumric.
“Aye, my lord,” said the horseman. “A large warband of ratmen, coming down from the north. They have numbers large enough to assail the village. My lord, you must return and bring the militia. Else we shall be overrun.”
“Lord Chancellor, Master, will you aid us?” said Rumric at once. “All your talk about defending the Empire is well and good, but will you help defend my village?”
Radobertus looked offended at the thought he would run, but the Chancellor only gave a curt nod. “We shall. Master Ruire, take command of this defense.” He turned his glare towards Captain Gantier and the soldiers of Falconberg. “Since your actions might have riled up the muridachs, I shall expect you to fight alongside the men of Tolbiac.”
Gantier looked like he had just taken a bite of something foul, but he gave a sharp nod.
“Hasten,” said Ruire, giving a stream of orders. Rudolf turned and barked the commands down the line, and the men of the Order of Embers began to prepare themselves for battle. “Sir Rumric, please lead the way. You are familiar with the local terrain.”
“This way, my lord,” said Rumric, and the column moved in haste. Captain Gantier and his men, after some hesitation, followed the column. Tyrcamber could tell that the men of Falconberg had no wish to raise arms in d
efense of Tolbiac, but they followed nonetheless.
They circled around the base of Tolbiac’s hill, coming to the fields north of town. The fields extended for about a mile before they came to another pine forest, dense and dark.
Muridachs poured from the trees, arranging themselves into battle formation.
The ratmen stood about five and a half feet tall and walked on their hind legs as humans did. Brown or black fur covered their bodies, and they had the heads of giant rats, complete with red-glazed, beady eyes and giant chisel-like teeth that could gnaw through steel plate armor without much difficulty.
The muridachs lived in warrens they carved from the rock of the northern mountains, and they were bitter enemies of the dwarves and the jotunmiri and the goblins and the gnolls. Indeed, the muridachs were enemies with most other kindreds, and rarely made alliances because they were known to be so treacherous. The treachery came from the fact that the muridachs could eat nearly anything…including dwarves, jotunmiri, goblins, gnolls, and humans. Grisly tales circulated through the Empire of what happened to human children kidnapped by the muridachs, and unlike most tales, they were not exaggerated, simply because there were few fates worse than being eaten alive by ratmen.
Master Ruire gave orders in a calm voice, commands that Rudolf barked out. Half the serjeants dismounted and formed a shield wall, the militia of Tolbiac on the left. Half the serjeants kept their saddles and formed up on the right with Tyrcamber and the other knights. Angaric and a few of the knights skilled with magic hung back, ready to fling their spells into the fray against the muridachs.
Tyrcamber watched the muridachs as they advanced in a ragged line. The muridachs’ smiths were not as good as those of the humans or even the goblins, but most of the muridachs had at least a chain mail hauberk, and a few of them, likely the nobles, had plate armor. The ratmen carried a motley array of spears and swords and axes, all of them plain but functional. None of them would be the equal of Tyrcamber’s sword of dark elven steel, but that hardly mattered. A rock to the back of the head could kill a knight just as dead as a masterwork sword…or a Lance spell to the back, for that matter.
One of the muridachs stepped from the line. He was huge for a muridach, nearly seven feet tall, and wore dull gray plate armor. In his right hand was a massive war axe, and glyphs of bloody light burned upon the steel blade. Like the xiatami and human necromancers, the muridachs often used blood sorcery to empower their spells since it carried less danger from the Malison. Of course, it also required blood from a victim, which was why the practice of both blood sorcery and necromancy were banned within the boundaries of the Empire.
The muridachs were not so picky. Since they were going to eat their captives anyway, why not use their blood to empower magic?
The huge muridach lifted his axe and cast a spell, and his voice boomed out.
“Hear me, human scum!” roared the muridach in accented Latin. His voice was deeper than a human tone, its timbre a harsh rasp. “I am Tynrogaul, Strike Commander of the muridach city of Kurphylon! The village of Tolbiac is ours! We shall devour your women and children in front of you, and you shall listen to their screams even as you bathe in their tears. You shall all perish, and we will feast upon your entrails!”
Tyrcamber frowned. The threats did not bother him. He had heard similar threats from muridachs before. Yet it seemed strange for the muridach leader to make an oration before fighting. For that matter, it seemed even odder for the muridachs to offer open battle like this. The muridachs would fight openly, but only when forced into a corner. They much preferred to attack from ambush and take their foes unawares, not face a battle line of prepared veteran soldiers.
Did they have a trick up their sleeves?
Tynrogaul shouted a command in the muridach tongue, and the ratmen roared in response. The creatures charged in a ragged mob, casting Lance spells as they did. Bursts of fire and ice and lightning ripped across the field to the waiting soldiers of the Order. Rudolf’s voice boomed in a hoarse shout, and the front ranks of the serjeants cast overlapping Shield spells, deflecting the muridachs’ magical attacks. A few Lance spells hurtled towards the horsemen on the right flank, and Tyrcamber cast his own Shield spell, blocking a globe of lightning that would otherwise have struck him in the chest.
“Treachery!”
Tyrcamber’s head snapped around at the shout.
“Treachery! Treachery!”
He looked around, wondering if another force had come upon them from behind. A flash of green and gold caught his eye. Had Captain Gantier’s horsemen turned upon them? But, no – the men of Falconberg were quitting the field, galloping west as fast as their mounts would carry them.
They were fleeing back to Falconberg.
“Traitorous dogs!” roared Sir Rumric. “You miserable cowards! I shall hang you from…”
He might have gone in pursuit of the fleeing soldiers, but Master Ruire’s shout thundered over the battlefield, driven to titanic volume by the Voice spell, calling upon all loyal men to hold. The serjeants of the Order did not move, and after a moment the militia of Tolbiac remained in place.
A few heartbeats after that, the muridachs crashed into the shield wall. Swords rang upon steel, and the screams of both men and muridachs rang out. Rudolf bellowed a command, and the second line cast spells, throwing Lances of magical fire over the heads of the front line and into the muridachs. The ratmen had flung their spells as they charged, allowing the serjeants to deflect them with Shield spells, but the men of the Order unleashed their Lances in a concentrated volley. The effect was far more potent, and dozens of ratmen fell. The mob of muridachs wavered, trying to break through the shield wall, but failing to do so.
Master Ruire’s standardbearer sounded a blast on his trumpet, and the mounted knights with Tyrcamber shouted. Tyrcamber put spurs to his horse, and the beast snorted beneath him and then surged forward. The horsemen galloped north and then swung around to the west, driving at the flank of the muridach warriors struggling against the serjeants. Tyrcamber cast two Lance spells in rapid succession as his horse thundered forward, flinging bursts of fire that burned into the muridachs. The ratmen attacking the shield wall wavered, trying to turn to face the new threat from the mounted men.
But it was too late.
Tyrcamber’s sword of dark elven steel was in his hand. He had taken it from an umbral elf before the siege of Tongur five years past, and he had carried it in every battle since. His horse crashed into the milling ratmen, and one of the creatures went down beneath his mount’s hooves. Tyrcamber swung his sword, and the strength of his arm combined with the momentum of his horse drove his blade through the neck of a muridach warrior. The rat-like head jumped off the shoulders in a spurt of dark blood, and the headless body jerked and collapsed to the earth.
There was a flash of harsh crimson light, and then a ribbon of liquid fire the thickness of a tree trunk slashed across the battle. Tyrcamber risked a glance to the side and saw that Sir Angaric had cast the Fire Torrent spell, one of the secret spells of the Order of Embers. The shaft of fire scythed across the melee, leaving dozens of slain, burning muridachs in its wake.
That was enough for the ratmen. The few survivors turned and began fleeing to the north. Tyrcamber turned his horse, expecting that the trumpets would sound and order the men of the Order to charge Tynrogaul’s location, to drive the muridach leader and his remaining forces back into the forest.
He blinked in surprise.
Except the muridachs were already gone.
They had fled into the trees, abandoning the valley and the village of Tolbiac.
###
A short time later, Tyrcamber sat atop his horse, listening to Sir Rumric fume and sputter.
“By God, sir, by God, it is egregious!” growled Rumric, his face near scarlet with rage behind his beard. He had calmed down some, but if Captain Gantier or any of the men of Falconberg had been within reach, there would have been violence. “Those cringing dogs of Fal
conberg stirred up the muridachs with their digging, and when the ratmen attacked, they fled back to their stinking sty of a city! What wretched cowards! The Duke is right to treat them harshly whenever he can.”
“I agree,” said Radobertus. “The Shield of Falconberg shall have some questions to answer when I speak with him.” The Chancellor gave an irritated shake of his head. “The embassy from Sygalynon will arrive at the city soon after we do. This is the worst possible time for the Empire to show any disunity before the umbral elves.”
“Are you so sure, sir, that the muridachs came in response to the digging?” said Master Ruire with a frown.
Tyrcamber glanced at the Master. The chief knights had gathered under the banner of the Order of Embers, which had been planted in the middle of the battlefield. Patrols had been sent into the pine forests around the village, to make sure that Tynrogaul and his muridach warriors had indeed fled. Sir Tolbiac’s militia had gone to work stripping the dead muridachs of their weapons and armor and then digging a mass grave for the corpses. Best to bury them before a dark elf or an umbral elf with necromantic skill decided to raise the slain ratmen as an undead warband.
“Surely that must be the reason?” said Tolbiac. “You have fought muridachs as many times as I have, sir. They don’t offer open battle like that, not unless it is forced upon them. No, they knew that the men of Falconberg were digging up old evils from the hill, and they came to take advantage of it. What other explanation can there be?”
“Sir Tyrcamber,” said Ruire.
“My lord?” said Tyrcamber, straightening in his saddle.
“Take Sir Angaric and look around the base of that hill,” said Ruire. He gestured at the crumbling dark elven tower to the southwest. “Better bring a dozen serjeants. See if you can find where Captain Gantier was digging. If his men unearthed some sealed dark elven vault, best we close it up again.”
Malison: Dragon Umbra Page 2
