Reavers of the Blood Sea

by Richard Knaak

  Frustrated, the cleric suddenly pulled the reins tight, bringing his mount up short. He looked over his shoulder at the barely visible figures of the knights and minotaurs. Why should he return to the Knights of the Thorn, whose assistance so far in the task of destroying the fog had mostly consisted of bickering and backstabbing? Perhaps … perhaps with a mind uncluttered by their foul darkness, Rand could better touch upon the power of Kiri-Jolith. It had been difficult of late to even sense his patron’s presence, but surely that was because of the cleric’s nearness to the black mages.

  Rand looked around and found a building that would give him ample view of the battle. Yes, he would do his best to push back the deadly fog without the Knights of the Thorn, but if that failed and he saw that the defenders needed him, Rand would abandon his task … all of his tasks … and come to their aid.

  And if the gods, especially Kiri-Jolith, found fault in him for that, then so be it. Rand had taken up the mantle of a cleric to help his fellow creatures; if necessary, he would leave that role behind him in order to do the same thing.

  * * * * *

  Knights on horseback began shouting out orders as the Magori approached. Aryx watched as minotaur legions were forced forward to indefensible positions while the knights formed tight ranks in higher, more secure locations. He cursed, knowing that if things began the same as they had the first battle, far too many of his people’s lives would again be wasted.

  “Broedius! Do as promised and give the generals their warriors back! Let them command our people before your officers lose half our numbers!”

  The senior knight glared at him. “At the beginning of battle? Are you mad, minotaur? This is no time to rearrange the ranks!”

  General Geryl rode up next to Broedius. “Give us the right, Knight Commander, and we’ll adjust matters without tearing defenses apart! We know our warriors and we know our home! Grant us our command back, and your talons and our legions will fight more smoothly!”

  Aryx could see Broedius’s mind racing. “Your archers are already in position. Leave them. I’ll signal a short retreat. Take command of the minotaur legions in an orderly manner and follow my direction! Understood?”

  Geryl looked at the other generals, most of whom nodded immediately. Only a few, such as Hojak, showed any reservations, but they said nothing. “We agree, Knight Commander!”

  Broedius’s gaze shifted back to the approaching line of Magori passing through the mist. “Then go.” He signaled one of his men. “Sound orderly retreat!”

  The man looked aghast. “Sir?”

  “You heard me!”

  The knight put the horn to his lips. The blare sounded, and Aryx saw a sudden stiffness in the ranks. Drejjen and some of the nearest officers stared in the direction of the knight commander, but they nonetheless obeyed, summoning both men and minotaurs back.

  The pace of the Magori increased, several lances flying toward the retreating ranks. Two minotaurs fell, one wounded in the leg. A pair of his compatriots rushed forward, dragging him to safety.

  “They’re moving faster than I thought they could,” snarled the commander.

  Aryx concentrated with his emerald eye. “And there’s more directly behind the first rows!”

  “How well can you see with that … that thing?”

  “I can see what looks to be the masts of the Predator sticking out of the water.…”

  Broedius’s fists clenched at mention of the sunken ship, but he said, “I’ll bear that little gift in mind. We may need it with this blasted fog.”

  Aryx saw something else. “Magori are swarming over some of the other vessels docked out there.”

  “I was afraid of that.” The dark-eyed human stood in the saddle. “The first of those beasts are in range. I only hope your people have as good an eye as you.” To the knight with the horn, he commanded, “Signal the archers!”

  The man put the instrument to his lips, sending out a signal that cut through the fog like a well-sharpened axe blade.

  A loud hiss filled the air as a torrent of arrows rained down on the monstrous horde. The Magori ignored the oncoming deluge of death, possibly not even knowing what the shafts were, for Aryx had never seen them use any sort of bow.

  The volley struck. Arrows pierced throats, snouts, and eyes, and crustacean after crustacean fell, writhing. Yet more arrows uselessly struck armored hides, bouncing off and even breaking. For all the shafts fired, too many were wasted, and every gap left by a fallen Magori was immediately filled with another of the horrific invaders. The swarm had been barely slowed by the rain of missiles. Too few of the foe had perished.

  “Again!”

  The second volley struck with more force, the archers miraculously finding their mark even through the thick fog. Magori after Magori fell, to be trampled by its fellows. The deaths of so many seemed to mean nothing to the crustaceans. Perhaps they did not even understand the concept as the peoples of Krynn did, or perhaps their fear of the unseen Coil overwhelmed all else. Whichever the case, they continued to advance, a silent, monstrous horde, ever increasing.

  Far too many shafts went wide of the mark, a sight which worried the young minotaur. He could understand a few wild shots here and there, but too many flew as if a number of the archers lacked full concentration.

  “What’s with those archers? I thought your people were proficient, Aryx!”

  “They are. Something’s wrong.”

  He noticed, too, that both the human and minotaur ranks moved in a slightly ragged manner, as if not all the warriors had their full wits about them. Aryx heard coughing … more coughing than normal.

  Rand had feared the fog, wondering if it had something to do with the sickness that had struck down Torvak and so many others. If the cleric had spoken true, were they all doomed to suffer from it?

  Aryx said nothing to Lord Broedius about his suspicions. To suggest as he thought would only provoke panic. Besides, what could be done about it? The foul mists enshrouded everything.

  “Broedius,” Carnelia muttered. “They’re getting too close.”

  “Agreed.” The knight commander glanced at his trumpeter. “Give the archers one last call, then we ride off.”

  At the sound of the horn, a new volley swept down over the Magori. Sloppier than the previous ones, it nonetheless brought down several of the abominations in the front. As Aryx joined his fellows in the rear, he looked back and saw that even those deaths had not deterred the creatures.

  “Blast it!” Lord Broedius glared toward where the archers had to be. “I gave orders earlier to the officer in charge that they should use flaming shafts on that volley! What, by our Lady, is he doing?”

  Aryx paid him no mind. Already the Magori had too much of a foothold on the island. The minotaur and human forces had at last shaped themselves into something cohesive, though, and all they needed was a signal. Aryx felt the Sword of Tears tingle by his side, as if urging him to act. He needed no encouragement, though, already having had enough of simply watching.

  Broedius evidently thought much the same thing. “They’ve been given enough ground. We stand here. Give the signal.”

  At sound of the new note, the minotaurs roared and knights held high their blades. Moving as one, they at last advanced on the approaching horde.

  Unwilling to stay behind, Aryx urged his steed forward. Broedius saw him and ordered the warrior back to his place. Aryx ignored him, drawing the Sword of Tears. As he neared the lines, minotaurs who saw him pointed excitedly, and many moved to allow him room, then formed ranks around him. The reluctant champion found himself leading a force into the fray, but by this time, he could do nothing. The enemy was too near for him to attempt to convince his followers that they had made a dreadful mistake.

  The opposing lines collided. Cries of pain or death began to resound throughout the area.

  Aryx met the first foe without hesitation, dodging his lance and coming up over the enemy’s weapon with his sword. He cut open the Magori and i
mmediately pulled back, avoiding its burning fluids. To his right, he caught a glimpse of General Geryl swinging his massive axe with such force that it nearly split its victim in twain. One of Broedius’s officers plunged his blade through the clustered orbs of a Magori who had just lanced a knight on foot.

  With each victory, however, there were also heavy losses. A young and too eager minotaur thrust his way forward. His blade bounced off the huge crustacean’s armored hide, and in the process, the warrior stumbled. Immediately a host of swords slashed down, dismembering the hapless victim in a sight that Aryx suspected would be forever burned into his memory.

  An ambitious Magori seized Aryx’s right leg. Already fending off another foe to his left, the minotaur could only kick, which did not serve to deter his second adversary.

  Suddenly a familiar figure darted in to take on the Magori to Aryx’s right. The fearsome reaver turned to defend itself, and as the two came together, Aryx saw with some surprise that his rescuer was again none other than Delara.

  She parried the savage swipe of the Magori’s blade, then literally disarmed her opponent. The crustacean hissed in pain, its ragged stump splattering corrosive blood everywhere. Shielding her eyes, Delara closed in. Before the crustacean could recover, she finished it with a thrust into the throat.

  “I left you back in the knights’ headquarters!”

  “Well, you’ll never leave me behind again!” she called back with a smile that, despite their predicament, made him flush.

  “Where’s Seph?” If Delara had made it here, had his brother, too?

  She did not have to answer, for Aryx immediately spotted Seph. The younger minotaur held his own against a large foe, fending off attack after attack by his adversary until he jostled the Magori out of its position. Seph killed the reaver before it could regain its balance, then barely jumped back as a barbed lance struck the ground on which he had just stood.

  Fear for his brother overwhelmed Aryx. “Seph! Get back behind the lines!”

  “And leave them all for—” The other paused, seeing Aryx’s eye for the first time. “What in the—”

  Delara leapt toward Seph. “Watch out!”

  An abomination wielding a sword slashed for the younger warrior’s neck and likely would have decapitated Seph if not for Delara. She knocked into him, pushing him back. Unfortunately, in doing so, Delara caught the blow on her shoulder, the jagged scythe sword ripping away a small but bloody portion of her flesh. She cried out in pain.

  Aryx maneuvered his horse closer, sweeping an arc with the Sword of Tears. The wailing blade severed both weapon arm and muzzle from the Magori warrior, who fell back, dying.

  “Seph! For the last time, go back!”

  “Too late!” his brother shouted.

  Indeed, he had the right of it. The Magori pressed harder, beginning to create some holes regardless of the efforts of the defenders. From his vantage point, Aryx noted that many of his companions, be they human or minotaur, moved sluggishly and, even in the midst of deadly combat, coughed without control.

  The fog, he realized. The fog may defeat us before the Magori get the opportunity!

  Broedius rode back and forth, shouting commands to all. “Fill that gap! Keep those swords high! Blast it, watch that hole!”

  A Magori burst through, a minotaur still pinned to the end of its lance. It shook the corpse free, but as it did, Broedius rode down on it, bringing his blade down hard against the blood-red, bulbous eyes. The blade sank in, spewing yellowish fluid over the knight’s armor. The horse stumbled, shocked by the acidic splash, but recovered in time for Broedius to finish the task.

  For all the underdwellers that they had killed, the defenders seemed not to have made any impact. Thick as the fog had grown, Aryx could still see the Magori numbers swelling. Those ever-increasing numbers continued to take their toll. The line of defense began to shift, retreating in some areas and causing even more pockets.

  Another Magori broke through. One knight tried to stop him, but the wicked scythe sword severed his head from his body despite the human’s armor. Two minotaurs with axes leapt onto the huge crustacean. One managed to get his weapon and arms around the snout of the reaver. With herculean effort, he pulled the axe head through the soft white flesh underneath.

  The lines grew more and more uneven. Aryx’s anxiety increased. If the lines here were not holding, how did they fare in other regions of the empire?

  “Sound the horns!”

  A blare went up, one that Aryx did not at first recognize. When he did, his heart dropped. Broedius had already called for a second cautious retreat. The defenders had been forced to give up more ground.

  They could not retreat far without moving into the city itself. Aryx silently cursed Lord Broedius for his quick decision. Surely it would have been better to hold out longer than to retreat into the city. How could they hope to maintain order amid so many buildings?

  The Magori moved in to take advantage. Horns sounded, calling for the line to hold again. Aryx gritted his teeth, thinking that by now it might be too late.

  Thunder rolled even though Aryx did not recall seeing storm clouds. Belatedly he realized that the thunder had a distinctive beat to it, a familiar beat. Horses.

  Far to his right, a gap opened in the lines, but this time for a purpose. Through it poured mounted lancers, Broedius’s own plus some minotaurs, in numbers so great Aryx wondered if any had been left to support the rest of the island. Among them, Aryx identified one of the generals he had spoken to in the knight commander’s chamber, which meant that this plan had been very hastily arranged. However, despite clearly being slapped together, the trick proved successful. The lancers charged through, and the Magori, still moving forward, became easy targets. Polished, sharpened lances skewered the crustaceans. For once, the monstrous invaders sought to escape, but by doing so, they collided with others behind them, creating further havoc.

  As quickly as they had come, the lancers retreated back behind the lines. A few were brought down before they could do so, but the trick had probably worked even better than Broedius and the minotaur generals had hoped. For the first time, the Magori left small gaps. Seizing the moment, Aryx and the rest pushed forward again, regaining some of the ground lost.

  “We’ve got them now!” Seph yelled, eyes bright.

  “Not yet!” Aryx returned. “Not yet! They might push back again!”

  Too soon his words proved prophetic. Despite surmounting losses, there seemed no end to the Magori. Not only did they finally fill the gaps, but in minutes the horde also threatened to overrun the defenders. This time the minotaurs and knights were forced to retreat under more dire circumstances.

  Aryx watched in horror as first one, then another of the minotaurs who had followed him died by sword or lance. No one came forward to fill the gaps left by the dead defenders. As yet another warrior perished at the end of a barbed lance, Aryx realized that his mount now stood on the edge of one of the streets. The defenders had been pushed all the way from the shoreline to the city.

  His horse shrieked as a barbed lance thrust through its midsection. The animal pitched to the side, taking Aryx with it. He rolled off, barely avoiding two slashing swords. Landing in a crouched position, Aryx thrust, the Sword of Tears easily penetrating the nearest Magori’s shell. The other creature sought to chop his sword arm off but missed by inches. The demon blade countered on its own, twisting around so that it went over the crustacean’s weapon and cut a smooth line across what served as the monster’s neck.

  Aryx glared at the enchanted artifact, uncertain whether to be grateful or annoyed. “Perhaps you’d like to fight this war without me?”

  No reply came from the Sword of Tears. Frustrated, the minotaur returned to the task at hand, hoping the demon blade would not at some critical moment make a choice of its own that would endanger rather than help its reluctant wielder. As with any minotaur warrior, Aryx preferred that his hand guided the weapon, not the other way around. That coul
d cause one to grow lax, which in turn could cause one to grow very, very dead.

  Broedius’s voice suddenly rose high above the lines. “Sound for fire!”

  The horns blared a different note. The weary minotaur heard the hiss of arrows and wondered how the knight expected the archers to find their mark under such circumstances. Then Aryx noted the glow above his head and a second later watched in wonder as fire rained down from the heavens. The knight commander had finally managed to get the archers to let loose a volley of burning shafts.

  Caught up in the attack, the underdwellers failed to register the flight until the flames landed among them. A few fortunate shafts struck home, but most simply hit the earth. However, the appearance of the flames had almost as great an effect as if the arrows had found their targets, for the Magori hesitated, even stumbled, at sight of the flickering shafts. Unlike the previous time, however, they did not retreat.

  With confusion once more in the invader ranks, the knights and minotaurs pressed forward. Magori backing up found themselves treading on fire, while those behind the flames hesitated to advance. Scores of the aquatic reavers perished, although the defenders also suffered some casualties. Lancers rushed out, replaying the same trick as before with equal accuracy.

  Hopes rose. Even Aryx thought that surely now the invaders would be on the run. With renewed energy, he and the others pushed on. If they could, they would drive the Magori back into the sea.

  An unsettling thing happened then, but Aryx suspected that only he saw it. Out in the dim harbor, where even the dragon eye proved hard-pressed to make out detail, the water suddenly swelled. A vast serpentine form—no, several intermingled serpentine forms—rose above the surface, churning the harbor.

  As suddenly as the murky forms had appeared, a shift came over the crustaceans. Despite heavy losses, they halted the defenders’ drive, then began to push back with an almost frantic energy. The more the things in the harbor stirred, the harder the Magori pushed. Once more knights and minotaurs had to retreat. The invaders fought as if seeking to flee some terrible force in their rear, and Aryx suspected that such a notion was not far from the truth.