“My Lord, we must fall back,” he said quietly to Duke Boltran who stood beside him in a magnificent suit of golden armor mounted on a pure white stallion. “The infantry of Gemsbrook and Hathage are still at least two hours behind us, and the heavy regiments of Warhaven must be farther back yet. We have out-run our allies and have only half of our force with us.”
“Speed is the only ally we need, Paladin,” interjected General Oswan, commander of the Maganhall cavalry. “The enemy has not anticipated our arrival. Look. Their forces are still strung out in order of march, not of battle.”
At first glance, the enemy did indeed appear to be divided, the goblins in the front before the Juggernaut, the Northings off on either flank, the dreaded stone giants in the rear helping to drag the carts and the baggage train of the invaders. But Darius saw more.
“We can ride through the goblins and test the titan before the Northings can intervene,” the young Duke said. “Is that not our main purpose here?”
“The goblins will not break, My Lord, regardless of the storm unleashed against them,” Darius answered. “Not with Regnar close at hand, not with the Juggernaut marching right behind them. They will mire your attack and hold you while the Northings sweep around our flanks.”
“Even if the goblins hold and the Northings move fast, the regiments of Coltrus and VanDamme are placed to intervene,” another general said stoutly. “They shall hold back the barbarians long enough to let the heavy horse withdraw.”
Darius knew both the futility of argument and the potential danger of division, but he had to try once more. “And who will cover the retreat of your infantry? Two regiments of tired men, against more than 20,000 Northings. With no heavy infantry in immediate support, the Northings will pursue them to the death.”
A rumble of disagreement answered him, warriors sure of their judgments and their men who had nothing but scorn for words of caution and defeat. With a sigh, Darius shut his mouth and decided to say nothing of the dangers of magics conjured by Regnar or the goblin mages.
“We have come to test the enemy, and test them we shall,” Boltran said, the voice of command and decision. “Whatever your skill at arms, Paladin, it is my generals who know the abilities and limits of this army. They understand what it can and cannot do, and I will be guided by their advice.”
Darius bowed his head deeply in acceptance.
“So,” the Duke said quietly leaning forward so only the Paladin could hear. “Shall we gladden Regnar’s heart by meeting intrigue with cold steel and hot courage?”
Darius’ eyebrows rose as he looked at the young man, his face calm from a decision taken, his eyes bright with the challenge of battle. So even at his young age, Boltran understood that battles are decided by warriors, not generals.
Darius smiled in answer. “Aye, my lord. Let us not disappoint.”
“Andler, take your squadrons to the left flank, Langar, take yours to the right,” directed Boltran. “I shall lead the main body in the center. Messenger! Raise the warning flags to tell Feldon of Palmany we are about to attack!”
The massed horse behind them dispersed with disciplined precision, spreading out as their lord dictated, and they made no attempt now to hide their movements. The Silver Horde was so close that they could not alter their formation even if they had wished, and Boltran planned to draw their eyes to the advancing cavalry and away from the infantry in the shadow of the hills.
Darius rode beside Boltran as he moved forward with his personal guard, a score of young men drawn from the best families of Maganhall, but Darius noted that he had wisely seasoned the body with several grizzled veterans from the ranks of the army. Such household guards, Darius knew, tended to become merely a show force over time, outfitted and trained for ceremonies rather than war, and he hoped they had spent as much time putting an edge on their swords as they did polishing their gold armor. He actually shrugged at the thought. As part of their task was to draw the eye of friend and foe alike, putting an extra shine on their armor would not be amiss.
Still, he was grateful for the hard silent figure of Eldoran riding on Boltran’s right. The Duke’s Champion could be counted on to stand by his lord, regardless of the actions of the rest of the household, but Darius still found himself slowly shaking his head. There were memories here, dark memories of previous wars and previous battles, and he shivered slightly at the sheer futility of all. Goblins and cavalrymen, Southland champions and Northing chieftains, all the madness of death and battle, when the only thing that mattered was matching the power of Sarinian against the horror that lead the Silver Horde. Warriors on both sides would find their graves this day in order for the Avenger to make this one, vital test.
Boltran came to a sudden halt, and Darius realized they had reached the crest of the final ridge between them and the enemy. The front rank of the rock goblins was barely two thousand paces away, and even in the shadow of the Juggernaut, the foremost of the creatures flinched as the power of Maganhall appeared before them.
Boltran looked left and then right to assure that the flanking squadrons were in position, and at a nod and a word from him, the flags of the signalmen were raised, gathering every eye on the field. Breaths were taken and shoulders braced, but Darius took the moment to holster his lance and draw Sarinian instead. Despite the surprise planned for the Northings, Darius knew well that Regnar would recover quickly, and their only real chance was to break through the goblins as quickly as possible. To that end, there was only one weapon that would break the spirit of goblins.
“For Maganhall and the Southlands! For your wives and your children! For your sacred oaths of honor! To war!” cried Boltran. Lances and flags came down as one, and five thousand throats echoed his cry: “To war!”
The line of heavy horse moved forward in unison, starting at only a walk as the riders held themselves and their mounts in check, and from various points on the line came the harsh warning of “Steady!” as officers strove to restrain their troop. At 1500 paces, the officers began to ease their restraint, and the horses broke into a cantor, the line still holding remarkably close, the long training and discipline of horse and rider showing through. At 1000 paces, the first of the goblin arrows came showering down upon them, hundreds of feathered shafts arching down from above as the archers let loose at extreme range, but not a single horse fell. For this was the heavy cavalry of the Southlands, rider and horse armored from hoof to head, and the arrows broke on them like soft rain.
At 500 hundred paces, the buglers let loose their fanfare, and the line now broke into a full charge, five thousand horses rushing forward in a single wall of armor and flesh, the most renowned heavy cavalry in all the world going to war. Captains spurred their mounts to edge a little ahead of their troopers, Boltran forcing his horse, Elwing, out even farther, but ahead of all rushed Andros with Darius wielding Sarinian.
“Goblins,” the sword whispered hungrily as it sensed the prey, and a dark smile touched Darius’ lips in answer. The slightest of pressures from his legs sent Andros surging ahead even faster, leaving the rest of the line behind and focusing the eyes of every goblin on the white horse as his rider held forth the gleaming sword like a promise of death.
Another volley of arrows, this one fired at close range with a more practiced aim, and a few of the missiles now found their mark, perhaps a score of horses going down with another hundred feeling the wound. But nothing could save the goblins from the full impact of the charge.
The massed cavalry swept away the front rank of goblins like a scythe through wheat, goblin spears shattering on the steel barding of the horses, and the front ranks found themselves crushed between enemy and the press of goblins behind. But as Darius had warned, the goblins stood their ground grimly, knowing their deaths were all the more certain if they were to flee, and scimitar and spear began to find the mark. The second wave of cavalry smashed into the confusion of goblins, spears and bodies flying from the impact, but still the goblin center held, refusing to b
reak. Boltran found his charge blunted and his men entangled in a wild melee.
Through them all Andros charged, his hooves mired in goblin blood, a dozen cuts about his body, but the enemy gave way before him, unable to withstand the gleaming fury of the Avenger, and Darius alone broke through the goblin ranks. Looming up before them now was the dark mass of the Juggernaut, striding relentlessly forward, heedless of the battle raging around it.
“Now we shall test it, my friend,” Darius called to Andros. He drew forth the gleaming lance of Maganhall, and a single pat on the neck was all the encouragement the charger needed. With a furious neigh, he leaped forward, rushing down upon the dark titan, the golden lance leveled before him. Faster he charged, putting all the weight of horse and rider behind that first, telling blow, and Darius braced himself for the impact as he aimed for the giant’s upper thigh. A pounding of hooves, a hard breath, and the lance smashed against the Juggernaut’s skin. And shattered into a hundred pieces.
Andros stumbled from the impact, nearly driven to his knees, but he gallantly fought himself back up, refusing to throw his rider. Darius, however, was already jumping from the saddle, certain now that force alone could not stop the monster. He held forth Sarinian, and the Avenger gleamed with a hungry light, waiting to test its brilliance against the darkness before it. Darius rushed forward and struck hard against the Juggernaut’s leg.
There was a deep, distant howl, like men burning alive in some far-off canyon, and a crimson flood burst from the wound. Blood, a sea of blood, drained from the hearts of the people of the plains, the fuel that powered the monstrosity, and Darius jerked back involuntarily, aghast. Never in all his battles had he seen so much blood in one moment, the ground turning into red mud, and yet he realized in sudden horror it was no more than a drop of all the hideous fuel that energized the monster. Worse, far worse, he knew immediately that even if he were to drain every drop from the thing, it might slow, but it would not die.
Then, for the first time in its long march across the mountains and the plains, the Juggernaut stopped and turned towards it assailant.
*
Regnar watched with furious disbelief as the Juggernaut turned from its course to face this single warrior. For three hundred leagues, the thing had been oblivious to its surroundings, pausing only to hammer its way through the castle walls that had blocked its path, and it had ignored every spear, bolt, and sword launched against it.
The changlings! the Ohric cried. You must unleash the changlings now!
A moment only did Regnar hesitate, reluctant to unleash one of his most powerful reserves so early in the battle, but he knew immediately that the scepter was right. There was no choice. Every blow the Paladin landed upon the titan might be stealing a league from its ultimate distance. He opened the leather pouch he held and scattered dozens of the fiery green marbles before him.
“Shuna Ar Melbur Eb!” he roared, and the marbles began to grow, returning to their original size. As they grew, inside each sphere could be seen some dark and shadowy form. “Thel Bru na Ortax!”
At that cry, the balls began hurtling themselves towards the titan and the sole warrior at its feet.
*
Darius stepped back, readying himself, his heart trembling as he awaited the blow from the Juggernaut, the reward for his arrogance and audacity. The fist rose, the fist that had crumpled the fabled walls of castles that had stood for hundreds of years, and it fell like lightning from the heavens to squash this impudent ant at its feet. Darius had timed the blow well, but even then, he was barely able to throw himself out of the way, landing closer and to the right of the monster. The Juggernaut was moving with him, almost as if it sensed him with more than its burning eyes, and it moved its leg before Darius could score again.
A second blow, and this time, Darius jumped a little to the left, and he struck back at the arm and fist, making a small wound that released only a little captive blood. The thing swatted at him with the back of its fist, the slightest of glancing blows that sent Darius flying a dozen feet to crash to the ground. The monster made to crush him with its foot, but he was too quick, scrambling out of the way just in the nick of time. It’s anticipating my moves, he realized. Now that it knows I can hurt it, it’s focusing all its energies on me.
Suddenly, he caught sight of the mass of green glowing spheres rolling directly towards him, the same spheres that had contained the deadly magic that would have killed him at the lake had it not been for Adella. Here, in lone combat with the titan, he now knew he had no chance of victory, and the spheres were a danger that must be countered.
Strike! raged Sarinian, resisting any suggestion of withdrawal.
We are over-matched, he said to the sword. But Regnar has unleashed this new horror at me alone, and he will be made to regret that choice.
He sprang to the right, and just as he anticipated, he found Andros charging towards him, slowing just enough to allow his rider to swing into the saddle, horse and rider emerging from the shadow of the Juggernaut with the green spheres of fire closing down upon them He altered course with the spheres following suit and charged directly into the thickest part of the goblin rear, Sarinian singing their death song as he slashed a path through them, and he didn’t need to look back to know the spheres were following.
One, two, five, a dozen, a score of the spheres smashed into the massed goblins, hundreds of the creatures exploding in flames from contact with the huge balls. The spheres lost both speed and size, dying out, but when they vanished, a hideous warrior stood in its place, monsters part ogre, part troll, and part something from the Nether realms that never before had stood upon the sweet earth. Mad as these creatures were, however, they had no taste for goblin blood, and they made their way towards the front of the battle, killing only those creatures too slow to leap out of their path.
Darius had broken free of the goblin ranks again, and he had a moment to survey the battle. The heavy horse of Palmany had joined Boltran and the Maganhall cavalry in the very middle of the goblin ranks, and while they appeared to be holding their own, they would be at a severe disadvantage when the monsters from the green spheres reached them. To the left and right, the Maganhall infantry had launched themselves against the Northing trap, tying down the enemy but unable to come to the rescue of their beleaguered lord.
Boltran was held fast, beset by these flaming warriors, and the main body of the Silver Horde was slowly surging forward to join the battle.
“The reserves,” Darius said aloud, though he spoke to no one but himself. “We need the reserves now.”
CHAPTER 7
The Dead Arise
Darius flew past the outward sentinels of Corland’s headquarters, not even acknowledging the formal challenge of the guard, and made for the small hill where he could see Argus’ banner flying. As he approached, he was struck by the inexplicable calmness of the scene, generals and soldiers alike mere spectators to the drama unfolding a few thousand paces beyond them.
“My Lord Argus!” Darius shouted as he leaped down from the saddle, and even the hostile Corlanders marveled to see such agility from a warrior wearing full plate mail. “Maganhall requires that you move your reserves forward!”
“Only the liaisons to the lords may carry messages requesting the movements of troops,” General Kargos responded stiffly. “You are not even a servant in Maganhall’s household.”
“Look for yourself, General!” Darius snapped, his patience already at an end. “Palmany is giving ground, and the heavy horse of Hathage and Gemsbrook are already committed to the flanks! Lord Boltran needs relief, and he needs it immediately. The time has come to commit the reserves!”
“We cannot respond to every shift and sway in the battle,” said Argus. “Regnar has not yet committed his main body.”
“Nor will he have need with only Maganhall engaged.”
“Boltran has laid his own meal,” said the Duke. “He has only himself to blame for those who come to feed.”
“He fights your battle, Lord Duke. Your oath and your honor compel you to come to his aid now.”
“In yet a little bit.”
Darius bristled, knowing that every minute’s delay might spare Corland a death, even if it cost Maganhall three.
“If you choose not to fight, then withdraw from the field,” the Paladin said fiercely. “You deceive by offering a false hope, and the deaths of brave men are not for the eyes of cowards!”
The Corlanders bristled as to an electrical shock, and the Duke’s face purpled with rage
“Those words shall cost you dear in blood, Paladin,” Argus said, drawing his huge axe. Members of the Black Watch began to close around the pair, wolves circling at the first hint of blood.
Darius, however, made no move, and only one eyelid lifted, as if surprised that the problem was to be solved so easily.
“That may be, Argus,” he said softly. “But it is my fate and my doom that I never bleed alone.”
The two men stood taking the measure of each other, all other matters dropping away as warrior faced warrior, and slowly Darius drew Sarinian from its sheath, the Avenger glowing with a light even more bright than when it faced the goblins. But before a single blow could fall, there came a cry from the signalman.
“A standard! A standard to the southeast!”
All eyes save the two warriors were turned in the direction, the standard heralding the approach of an army. But what army?
“What make you of the standard’s field?” shouted Argus, his gaze still on his opponent, his huge arms flexing to strike. There was an agonizing pause as the signalman strained his eyes.
“Red Dragon Rampant!” he yelled at last. “The Banner of the House of Mandrik! The regiments of Warhaven have arrived!”
Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) Page 9
