The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck

by Jason McWhirter

  They ran after Allindrian who led them quickly down the dark street. Every once in a while they caught the movement of someone inside a window hastily closing their shutters or blowing out candles. It was as if they knew what was happening on the streets, and they wanted no part of it.

  They kept to the edges of the dirt street where the shadows were thickest next to the buildings. Nervous and alert, they carried their weapons in hand as their eyes darted from shadow to shadow, always expecting an attack.

  Their fears were soon realized as they came to an intersection with roads veering to the left and right. Allindrian hesitated for a second, scanning the roads for enemies. There was no sign of anyone so she turned right, toward what they hoped was the inner palace, but they had only gone twenty paces when arrows suddenly began to rain down upon them from the rooftops.

  Kromm immediately surged forward in front of his wife, while several arrows struck him in the chest. Two were deflected by his dwarven armor but a third penetrated the muscle on his forearm, skewering it like a kabob. Another arrow pierced Allindrian’s thigh while yet another struck Myrell in the throat. The young farm girl tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgling sound as her eyes widened in shock. She stumbled to her knees with both hands on her throat, blood splattering from her mouth and between her fingers, and then she fell over, landing with a thud on her stomach.

  “Run! Move quickly!” Kromm yelled, leading everyone rapidly down the street, hoping to find some cover. As he ran he snapped off the barbed end of the shaft, yanking the arrow out with a grunt.

  Kilius screamed in anguish as he saw his sister fall. He ran over to her still body lying in the dirt road. Arrows flew down around him as he tried to heft her body over his shoulder. One arrow took him in the hip, penetrating his poorly made chain mail, and a second arrow clipped his calf. He grunted in pain, dropping his dead sister to the ground.

  Allindrian, rapidly assessing the situation, took immediate action. The pain in her thigh, though severe, was not life threatening as no major arteries had been damaged. She snapped off the feathered end so it wouldn’t snag on anything and quickly leaped into action, sprinting toward Kilius, while Durgen and the rest of the group followed the king and ran as fast as they could down the street in the opposite direction, hoping to evade the deadly onslaught of arrows. As she ran, she fired arrow after arrow at the black garbed archers above, a true reflection of her incredible skill. The wound in her leg slowed her some, but did little to hamper the speed of her bow arm, nor her accuracy. Her hands were a blur as her elven vision found its targets as they bobbed up and down on the rooftops. Each arrow disappeared into the darkness, striking its mark, unhindered by the fact that she was simultaneously running at full speed toward Kilius, who was now moaning in pain and sorrow over the body of his sister.

  The Blade Singer skidded to a stop at Kilius’s side, still firing her deadly shafts toward the roof tops. The onslaught of arrows from above stopped momentarily as the remaining archers took cover from the deadly ranger.

  “Kilius! We have to move! Can you walk?” Allindrian had stopped firing, and was scanning the roof tops for anyone daring enough to show their head.

  Kilius looked up from his sister’s body, tears streaking down his dirty face. In the brief moment when their eyes met, Allindrian saw a change come over the young man. The sadness in his eyes, the humanity, seemed to dissolve, replaced with a cold and piercing glare of hate.

  “Yes, I can walk,” he said, reaching down and yanking the arrow from his calf with no acknowledgement of the pain. Then he broke off the feathered end to the one in his hip, and staggered to his feet. Allindrian caught him momentarily before he regained his balance on his injured leg. “Let’s go,” he muttered, urging Allindrian forward.

  They ran as hard as their injuries would allow, all the while Allindrian was scanning the rooftops for more archers. They had either disappeared or were too scared to show themselves. It was then that they heard the howling of the orcs behind them, followed closely by the sound of combat ahead.

  They hurried on, coming around a bend in the street and seeing why the archers were no longer peppering them with arrows. The archers had moved farther down the rooftops so they could take part in the fight that was progressing in front of them.

  Kromm, Durgen, Sorana, and Riker were fighting furiously against a mob of Blackhearts, but they were not alone. Forty Free Legion warriors were attacking the Blackhearts from behind, and cutting them down with practiced precision. Their shields were up in a neat row and sharp spear tips moved in and out from the shield wall, killing the enemy with ease.

  Allindrian and Kilius moved up behind them, but the fighting there had slowed down as the Blackhearts that remained were frantically trying to defend themselves against the Free Legion warriors. Consequently there were only a few of them that pressed the king and his group. Any that did were immediately cut down by Kromm and Durgen who made an unstoppable duo.

  Kilius dropped to his knee to take the weight off his injured leg while Allindrian kept her eyes on the rooftops. She was limping now from the pain in her leg but she could still move and fight. The wound was mostly superficial, and the pain was nothing more than a discomfort. A few archers remained above, but it didn’t take her long to dispatch them with shots that could only be described as impossible.

  The pounding of heavy boots brought Allindrian’s attention from the rooftops to the orcs that were now running toward them.

  “King! The orcs!” Allindrian yelled as Kromm and Durgen pivoted toward the beasts. Just then Captain Hadrick, the man they had met at the gate the day before, hacked his way through the remaining Blackhearts to get to them. All but a few of the Blackhearts were dead, and the Free Legion warriors moved their formation forward.

  “Good to see you, Captain,” Kromm said as he held his bloody sword before him.

  “And you, King of Tarsis,” the captain replied sternly. “Men, form up! There is orc blood to be shed!”

  The Free Legion warriors all wore plate mail and carried large heavy shields and short jabbing spears. Sheathed at their sides were short infantry swords with heavy blades made for hacking. The men were grim faced and moved with a confidence only seen in warriors accustomed to winning.

  Fil glanced behind him and saw a discarded spear lying next to a dead Free Legion soldier. He smiled and picked it up. “Now this feels good,” he said, moving toward the middle of the line to stand next to Kromm.

  The orcs were almost upon them and their sheer size was alarming, even though Fil had seen them before in the tunnels. Armed with large swords made of dark steal and wearing thick dark plate mail painted with Gould’s white eye, they ran with no hint of exhaustion or fear.

  “I have never seen orcs that big,” muttered Captain Hadrick. The man had blood splattered across his chest plate and he carried a wide metal shield and a stout spear.

  “They are a different breed, much stronger and faster,” Kromm replied, widening his stance as he faced the rapidly approaching Gould-Irin orcs.

  “Father, let me fight next to you,” Riker urged, moving to the king’s side.

  “No! Stay back with your mother! I need you to protect her in case any get through. Do not question me on this!” he said fiercely, leaving no room for argument and lifting his sword in his iron grip.

  Riker nodded his head obediently and moved back behind the line. He had seen his father like this before, an impending battle melting away the kind gentle father and replacing him with the fierce warrior of legend. There would be no arguing with him, and his orders were followed without question.

  Kromm planted his feet into the ground and lifted his sword in his right hand. “Stay clear of me! Keep your formations tight to the left and right. I will hold the center!”

  Captain Hadrick glanced at the huge sword the king carried so easily in his hand and understood why. “Tight formations left and right! The king holds the center!” the captain shouted as the Free Legio
n warriors brought up their heavy shields, angling their spears outward. The maneuver was beautiful to behold as the shields came up in unison, clashing together once as they butted up against each other.

  Yet the orcs did not falter once, and within moments they came crashing into the shields and spears. Many of the fearsome beasts were lanced, but they continued their momentum forward, bringing their heavy swords down upon the Free Legion warriors even as they died. Veterans of many battles, the tough soldiers had never fought an enemy so devoid of fear and pain. Handfuls of orcs and soldiers died as the two lines came together.

  Kromm did not need a shield to stop the two orcs that came at him. Growling like a beast he brought his blade down and across them both. Power and strength surged through his body and he focused it all on that one strike. His magical blade cut through armor and orc, nearly cutting the first orc in half and then cleaving into the neck of the second. The orcs behind their dead brethren stumbled over the two bodies and Kromm and Durgen were there to finish them off.

  Allindrian and Kilius stayed in the back with the queen. Allindrian continued to watch the rooftops with an arrow nocked and ready. Their wounds were still bleeding and soon they would need attention, but for now the threat of enemy arrows and swords kept them on their feet and ready to fight. Riker and Queen Sorana stood next to the Blade Singer, watching the fight before them with weapons drawn and nervous eyes searching the darkness around them.

  The fighting was intense as the two formidable groups sought to gain advantage. At first the heavy Free Legion shields did their job, holding most of the orcs back as the giant beasts did all they could to punch gaps in the line. Some, even though fatally wounded by the legions spears, managed to grab their shields, ripping them from the warriors’ arms even as they fell dying. Others merely used their immense size to push through the shields, showering the Free Legion warriors with blow after blow from their heavy cutting blades. A quarter of the orcs had been killed, but nearly that many soldiers had suffered the same fate, and it didn’t take long for their formation to crumble under the powerful onslaught of the Gould-Irin. The fighting became more chaotic as the wall fell apart and the warriors drew their close formation swords.

  Kromm continued to swing his heavy blade with incredible speed and accuracy, cutting into the orcs as they came at him. Durgen fought next to him, his short stature enabling him to stay clear of Kromm’s sword, all the while using his axe with deadly efficiency.

  One orc attempted to bring his sword down on top of Durgen’s head, forcing the dwarf to dodge to the side just as another orc kicked at him. But Durgen managed to spin around the booted foot, taking only a glancing blow to the shoulder, and used his forward momentum to come in fast toward the orc’s other leg, his silver axe arcing through the air in the middle of the spin. The razor sharp blade took the orc on the side of the knee, nearly severing its leg. Howling, the orc dropped to the ground as the first attacker again attempted to dispose of the dwarf with another downward chop of its sword. Durgen brought up the handle of his axe to stop the devastating blow, angling his axe at the last second. As he blocked the sword he simultaneously used the beast’s strength and weight of the blade against him by causing the weapon to slide down the haft of his axe as he pivoted to the side. The orc stumbled forward, bringing its ugly head close to Durgen. The powerful dwarf then reversed the momentum of his axe and brought the blade up and across the orc’s face, slicing through its open mouth. The orc shrieked in pain as it fell backwards, its jaw flapping open, the muscle and skin completely slit all the way to its ears. Durgen roared defiantly as he swung his blade down onto the chest of the downed orc, completely disabling the mortally wounded beast.

  Gullanin’s invisibility spell worked well to hide his appearance, but it did nothing to stop any sounds that he made, which was why he was extra cautious as he moved from the darkness behind the fighting king. The Blade Singer was just in front of him and she had her attention focused on the rooftops, but he knew that her elven senses could pick up the slightest noise, which was why he was extra careful as he slowly emerged from the darkness behind her. The queen and the prince were next to her and Gullanin could clearly see the tall form of the king fighting like a berserker just beyond them. He was wary of the Blade Singer. She was dangerous and powerful and he knew that he had to hit her first before he could focus his attention on the king.

  Then something happened that worked to his advantage. Two daring archers emerged from the rooftop to his right, shooting arrows down toward the ranger. One arrow hit the queen in the side. The other flew at Allindrian, but missed, hitting only ground as the Blade Singer danced quickly out of the way. Even Gullanin was impressed with her skill. She moved so quickly that he barely saw her fire two arrows toward the attackers. Both hit their marks and the Blackhearts tumbled off the roof landing on the ground with a thud.

  But Gullanin wasted no time marveling at her speed. He dropped the invisibility spell, jabbed the base of his staff into the ground, and simultaneously called upon his Telsirium magic. The staff, acting as a conduit for the energy, drew up the earth magic all around him, and sent it flying at Allindrian as an invisible wall of force. Gullanin was a master at Telsirium magic, and the wall he thrust at her was enough energy to flatten the Free Legion warriors behind her.

  Allindrian spun towards the movement behind her just catching a glimpse of the wizard before the invisible wall hit her. The power of the strike was so intense that she was blasted from her feet and thrown up and back with enough force to send her flying over the top of the fighters. She landed in a crumpled heap more than thirty paces away.

  Kilius, though wounded, made a feeble attempt at attacking Gullanin, but he was brushed aside with a second surge of Telsirium magic. A gentle flick of Gullanin’s staff sent the young villager flying to the left, crashing hard against a stone wall before he fell to the ground, his head hitting the cobblestone walkway with a sickening crack.

  The queen was lying on the ground, moaning in pain. The arrow had pierced her side and the bloody barbed point had emerged from her back a good hand span in length. The intense pain had immobilized her. Riker had run to her side as she had fallen, and his strong hands held her close.

  “Mother, are you okay?” he yelled just as Kilius was blasted from his feet. Riker’s eyes went wide as he lowered his mother softly back down and turned to face the approaching wizard.

  “Hello, Prince, it is so nice to finally meet you,” Gullanin snickered. Riker said nothing; he simply stood up in front of his mother, holding his sword protectively before him. Gullanin looked down at the queen who was struggling, despite her pain, to get up to face the wizard.

  “Leave him be, I beg of you, it is not him that you want,” the queen moaned, finally getting to her knees behind her son.

  Gullanin drew forth more Telsirium magic from around him and stored it in his staff. “That is true, Queen, it is your husband that I want, but I don’t think the prince here will stand aside while I kill his father. Isn’t that right, Prince?”

  Riker narrowed his eyes in fury and lunged at the wizard, his sword whistling toward his head.

  “Noooo!” the queen yelled.

  Gullanin gestured with his staff, again releasing the magic stored there. Gullanin’s staff had many powers, one of them being the ability to store spells in the form of energy. This time the energy was released in the form of an arcing lightning bolt that struck the prince in the chest, flinging him backwards with enough force to cave in his armor. He hit the stone wall of a building twenty paces away, landing with a bone crushing thud as arcs of crackling energy buzzed briefly across his armor.

  The queen was crying hysterically as she crawled slowly towards her boy, the pain all but vanishing at the sight of her only son crumpled on the ground.

  In some part of the king’s brain he heard his wife cry. His mind was focused on the combat in front of him, but her cry of torment reached deep within him, yanking his focus from the orcs to
what was happening behind him.

  He ripped his sword from the heart of a dead orc, disengaging from the fight. Durgen, also hearing the scream and sensing the situation, jumped into the gap to hold the orcs back, giving the king the time he needed to see to his wife.

  Kromm spun around and ran forward several paces, frantically taking in the scene. His eyes searched for her but instead fell upon an aged withered man that looked frail enough to blow away in a gentle breeze. The man held a staff and wore an evil grin, and that was enough to surmise the newcomer’s intent.

  But before the king could act, a sizzling bolt of lightning erupted from the wizard’s staff and slammed into his chest. It felt like searing fire shooting through his body. He staggered backwards, dropping to his knees. He was in more pain than he had ever felt. Every muscle and joint sizzled with the energy of the electrical attack and he felt as if he were burning from the inside out. Screaming in agony as smoke rose from his body, he fell forward, catching himself with one hand at the last moment. Through his pain, he again heard the faint cries of his wife. He closed his eyes, his screams turning into a roar of fury as he desperately searched for the inner strength to push away the pain that was hammering his body.

  “I can see why my master wants you dead. You are stronger than I thought. That bolt should have killed you,” Gullanin said as he moved closer to the injured king. “But you will not live through another,” he said, as he began another spell.

  “Nor shall you!” a voice roared from behind him. Gullanin pivoted quickly, just as another lightning bolt shot towards him from the darkness. The wizard was so surprised by the attack that he didn’t even have time to put up a proper shield. Luckily for him, his staff was a conduit of energy and therefore it absorbed much of the power of the bolt as it struck him from the darkness.

  Fiery pain shot through Gullanin’s body and he tasted smoke on his tongue. He stumbled to his knees, convulsing as the energy shot through him. He tried to speak to bring forth a spell but his mouth was locked shut as the magic rocked his body.