The Rawn Chronicles Book Four: The Dragon and the Daemon (The Rawn Chronicles Series 4)

by P D Ceanneir

  King Havoc remained where he was when the Raiders left. He watched them merge into a shield wall and then proceeded to professionally cut their way forward, trampling over dead and wounded Wyani as they marched down the slope. The Rogun battle with the Unduli became one of separate fighting groups and Lord Rett sent in another line of foot soldiers to strengthen the main force, but the battlefield was a mess of glinting swords and broken gaps of dead bodies. It was becoming easy to lose control of units at this stage. Havoc knew it was better to watch and wait.

  As he studied the battle, he absent-mindedly hooked the silver chain around his neck and held the Talisman of Mortkraxnoss in his hand, gently rubbing the blue gem with his thumb.

  Not far off Bleudwed and Tia were watching him.

  ‘Why does that amulet glow?’ asked the countess with a frown.

  ‘Havoc believes that the soul of the Nicbetha is inside the gem,’ said Tia in an offhand way.

  ‘Who is the Nicbetha?’

  ‘That, my lady, is a long story.’

  Havoc watched, his eyes flicking left to right over the battlefield. Lord Rett had things under control, the Carras Knights were creating mayhem on the flanks amidst the Gazzen-Sel units and the Unduli rear, and this helped the Rogun infantry gain the upper hand. Unfortunately, due to the terrible wet ground, Dolment and his Ifor Lancers remained well back on the drier terrain with the duke, obviously holding them in reserve. Havoc could see the Ifor Round Tower Standard flapping in the early morning breeze and he grinned to himself, knowing that young Dolment would be itching to join the fight.

  A pretty sight. You have an aptitude for chaos, brother, whispered the Blacksword in his head.

  Havoc chuckled, ‘you calling me “Brother” is going to take a bit of getting used to.’

  Nevertheless, we are. Bound in fate, body and Bani.

  Havoc shivered, ‘please don’t remind me.’

  Down below, the Rogun host had forced the enemy into a defensive circle. Only the flooded plain behind the Gazzen-Sel Regiments offered a way out. Several Wyani banners wavered and then fell into the mix of soldiers as their companies collapsed under the wave of Roguns’ advance.

  Havoc could see that inside the churning mass stood a smaller ring of defenders and a black-clad warrior was staring back at him. Creed stood totally still, ignoring the chaos of his panicking soldiers trying to break and flee from the encasement of armoured warriors.

  ‘We will have to fight him,’ said Havoc to the Blacksword, ‘his army means nothing to him now, look how he ignores his men when they need his encouragement the most. I can almost feel his pain as defeat envelopes him.’

  You are correct. I am ready. Let us be about it.

  Havoc allowed the change. To his surprise, Bleudwed and Tia stepped back in fear. Both women stood in a position near to the dyke thereby blocking off the view of the cave on the other side of the old courtyard so that the wounded men there would not see the transformation.

  The countess watched as the battered green armour undented and flowed like water reshaping and changing into matt black as if it was sweat leaking out of skin. The armour looked sleeker in form than the last time she witnessed the change, complete with two shoulder guards, a red chest piece depicting both Sin and Dex coiled together in a sibling’s embrace and shiny steel toe capped boots. There was a ripping, retching noise behind the king, the surface of earth and stone rose up, and the material instantly pulverised into tiny black particles only to merge into a recognisable cloth fabric. The cloth became black; it flowed and draped itself around Blacksword to form his cloak. The last to change was the face, before the hood finished it’s shaping into a dark tunnel, Bleudwed saw the face whiten, the lips thin over the teeth and the hair disappear to reveal a completely bald head. The black eyes looked out of wide ocular, lidless, sockets. The countess got the impression that this was now the Blacksword fully grown into the being of prophecy and she shuddered.

  The Blacksword looked at them both and the hood tilted forward as he nodded. He then effortlessly jumped high into the air, nearly knocking the women down with the force of the gale that propelled him.

  The battle was going badly for Prince Creed, but that did not matter now, the real prize was coming towards him. The Lobe Stone on his helmet allowed him to see and hear extraordinarily well. He watched the Blacksword drop from the sky and land on a boulder behind the combating Raiders.

  Still and watchful for most of the latter half of the battle, Creed now moved with a purpose. He unsheathed his long sword, Norux, and picked up a discarded battle-axe. Much like his father, he chose to fight with a weapon in both hands.

  He strode towards his opponent and cut down or knocked aside any in his path regardless if they were friend or foe. He struck out at three Wyani in his way with his left arm sending them hurtling into a wall of Raiders, the whole group went sprawling. As he approached the Dark Company fighting at the rear, Mactan, who had just finished slitting the throat of one Unduli soldier with his dagger, looked up and saw the Vallkyte De Proteous walking towards his Dark Company. He ordered his men to split and let the prince through, which they did, keeping well away from his weapons. Creed, for his part, ignored them, his attention was on the Blacksword who was walking towards him down the slope. Mactan’s men formed back up into a shield wall and continued the slaughter.

  ‘Welcome, Blacksword. I see your queen has sent her minions,’ said Creed in a mocking tone as he pointed to the black cloud of ravens that swooped around the battlefield and almost darkened the sky above them.

  ‘They come for your black heart, Creed, and I will give it to them,’ said the Blacksword as he drew SinDex from its sheath on his back. He reached out with the Rawn Arts and tentatively touched the boy’s black armour with invisible ribbons of elemental energy. He could sense the complex weave of elemental threads, flows of Earth and Water that bound the material together into an extremely strong substance. He surmised that the dual use of a Water or Earth Orrinn would be able to unstitch the bond, having none to hand he would have to rely on the Sword that Rules instead.

  Creed was not aware of the Blacksword’s scrutiny. He was eager for the fight to begin. ‘Very well then, you can but try, yet you will fail,’ he growled and then ran with surprising speed and agility up the slope. He swung his axe and sword in unison. The Blacksword dodged the axe and blocked the swipe of the sword. Both weapons clanged loudly and the Blacksword noted the formidable strength that the black armour gave to the prince. To the Blacksword’s surprise, Creed’s blistering attack pushed him back quickly and he had to dodge the axe yet again as it curved down in an arc towards his head. He twisted around on his heal and rammed his left elbow into the prince’s face making his head snap back, but Creed kept his footing and pushed out Norux at the last second so the tip grazed along the Blacksword’s right shoulder guard. The Blacksword allowed him to over-lunge and then spun on his heal to kick the boy in the chest. The blow numbed his foot, but it sent Creed hurtling backwards.

  The boy recovered quickly and ran into the attack again. This time he was more cautious, more measured in his style; Udren had taught him well. The Blacksword backed off from the fury of the prince’s next sweep, looking for an opening in his posture. There were many, but Creed’s speed meant he could easily close his defences again with a parry or a retaliating lunge.

  The Blacksword used a different tactic and thrust his sword point into the curve of the axe, which was in Creed’s left hand, and then he twisted it so the sharp edges of both weapons bit together. Creed tried to break the lock by lifting his axe up and backwards, but the Blacksword expected the manoeuvre and pushed his sword forward so the tip scraped along the boy’s helmet and clanged against the Lobe Stone. There was a hollow ringing noise from the stone and Creed groaned as the sound screeched high-pitched to his ears and he backed off, shaking his head.

  The Blacksword swung the Sword that Rules in deadly figure of eight sweeping curves trying to put his opponent off
balance now that his opponent seemed disorientated; he succeeded and found an opening. He inverted his sword, bringing it down in a tight arc and marked a neat gash along the prince’s chest, which splayed open the armour as if it was springy flesh. The loud hiss of air through gritted teeth came from the prince as he stepped back in pain; however, as the Blacksword watched, he saw the red gash on the boy’s chest quickly knit together and the armour flowed over it like water to seal without showing any mark.

  Damn it! It is as if you’re fighting the Drakken again, said Havoc, this armour is making him unstoppable!

  The Blacksword had no time to answer. Creed leapt towards him with stunning speed and barged into him with his shoulder. He lifted him off his feet and rammed him up against the nearest ruined wall, stunning the Demigod with the sheer violence of the act. The wall wobbled under the collision and the Blacksword felt the prince’s hand on his head, which he slammed against the wall several times, sending chunks of masonry in all directions. Creed had dropped his sword to do this, so he swung his axe around for the kill. The Blacksword reached out and gripped the boy’s arm before the axe could cut off his head; it took all of his formidable strength to hold it. He had to finish this quickly or the young prince’s augmented ability inside the suit would be his undoing, therefore he rammed SinDex into the newly mended chest piece. The black-blade impaled the prince deeply and the youth grunted in surprise, but he did not fall, instead he lifted the Blacksword and threw him a fair distance through the air. Another of those ivy and moss covered ruins shattered as the Blacksword smashed through it. He landed amongst the remnants of a tall watchtower that sat on the fringes of the castle grounds.

  As he got up, dazed, Creed walked towards him with long strides through the debris, SinDex still embedded in his chest. The impaled blade did not affect him in the slightest and the Fire Orrinn had not activated to cause him any pain.

  Bloodline, hissed Havoc, the Blacksword groaned loudly as he also realised the truth.

  Creed threw his axe and the Blacksword raised his hand and summoned the third element, so that the axe shot off at right angles from the direction of the throw and embedded into a wall. Creed summoned the Earth Element causing the ground to ripple outwards into small eruptions until a collection of them reached the Blacksword, a tall column of ejected earth struck him full-on and sent him flying backwards, he bounced off a boulder and fell hard against a broken pillar.

  He heard laughter as he shook his head to clear the fuzziness.

  ‘The great Blacksword, defeated easily by a boy of fifteen,’ goaded Creed. The Blacksword heard a sucking sound and looked up to see the prince pull SinDex from his chest.

  ‘This sword is excellently made,’ he said as he gave it a few slashes in the air, ‘the balance is perfect. He stopped by the Blacksword and waited until he was halfway off the ground then he hit him full in the face with his armoured fist. The Blacksword’s head rocked backwards and when he opened his eyes again, he found that he had landed a few feet from the boy. His vision blurred, he felt faint and pain jabbed his cheek, he knew it was broken.

  ‘Aunt Cinnibar and Lord Sernac thought I would kill you easily, I was not so sure,’ said Creed as he gripped SinDex with both hands and lifted it above the Blacksword’s head. ‘But who am I to argue with my elders. This is for Lord Udren, you bastard!’ Before he could bring the sword down for the killing blow, something crashed into Creed and knocked him to the ground. Tia had jammed her sword into the boy’s side during the collision. She quickly got to her feet, but Creed hit her with a strong blast of hardened air and she had no time to deflect it. Her body shot backwards at terrible velocity and her back smacked up against a broken wall, she crumpled to the ground in a heap and did not move.

  As Creed stood and pulled Tia’s sword from his side with a grunt, Bleudwed rushed in behind him with the prince’s axe that she had managed to pull from the wall where it was imbedded. She swung with all her strength, but Creed moved quickly, gripping the shaft as it neared his head. It was like hitting rock with a sword, the impact jarred up her arms and she screamed in pain and shock, yet she did not let go of the axe shaft. Creed flipped the axe over his head sending the countess sprawling.

  ‘I will deal with you later, countess,’ he said and Bleudwed could imagine him smiling behind the mask as he said it. It seemed as if he was more intent on finishing off the Blacksword. He walked back towards his opponent as the cloaked figure started to get up from the ground.

  ‘Blacksword!’ shouted the countess, ‘it’s all to do with the link, remember how harmonics affect water retention.’

  Creed looked back at her and shook his head, clearly confused. He turned back towards the Blacksword.

  She’s talking about the Lobe Stone, said Havoc, assuming that ours has a link with his...but how could that help...Ah! Brilliant!

  ‘What is it?’ the Blacksword asked with some impatience.

  High frequencies can disrupt the atoms in water; remember he was uncomfortable when the Falesti were singing that Lament for Bronwyn and when you scored a hit on his helmet?

  ‘Do you want me to sing or dunt him on his head again?’ the Blacksword was backing away from Creed. He pulled out his own Lobe stone from a pocket in his belt and activated it using a Skrol incantation. Then he looked for volatile energy within the Dagon Lanes and noticed many crisscrossed the area around them.

  ‘I think I know what you are getting at,’ he said, ‘I just have to find the frequency and turn up the volume.’

  The boy’s Lobe Stone started ringing and vibrating in his hand. Creed stopped and started to sway slightly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he whined.

  The Blacksword said nothing; he was looking around him for yellow hues of energy that always accompanied Dragon Lane emissions from the ground. He grinned when he finally saw what he needed.

  The Lobe Stone grew louder and Creed yelled as he clutched his head in pain.

  ‘Stop that, it hurts!’ the ringing in his head became a screech. He tried to swing SinDex at the Blacksword, missed and then arched his back in agony, dropped the sword, which embedded itself into the ground, point first. He curled his hands into fists and banged them against his head.

  Unseen by everyone but the Blacksword, two streams of yellow energy snaked out of the ground and probed the air around Creed, looking for a target. The Blacksword merely showed them where to go with his mind. The energy streams hit the prince’s Lobe Stone like lightning to a conductor rod. The boy’s wild scream echoed across the battlefield.

  Something was happening to the prince’s armour. The continuity that held the material together was weakening and ripples fluctuated along the black surface like a stone dropped in a calm river. Rivulets rushed away like spilt ink on wax paper to reveal pale flesh underneath. The substance soaked into the ground as it flowed from the boy’s body. Clumps of it still tenaciously clung to his legs and torso and half of his face was still covered. The pink birthmark revealed itself on his temple and cheek, Bleudwed thought he looked like a younger version of Havoc.

  The Blacksword picked up SinDex and then released the volatile energies, which harmlessly fell back into the ground. Creed was still in agony. Blood flowed out of his ears and his left eye had ruptured with many red veins crisscrossing his eyeball.

  He shakily searched the ground for a weapon, his hand found his axe.

  ‘That was for Mirryn,’ said the Blacksword in a harsh whisper as he separated SinDex and held the sword in an X formation as if they were gardening shears.

  ‘And this...’ he said, as Creed held the axe up to block the two crossed blades, ‘this is for Bronwyn.’ He closed the crossed blades and snipped the axe in half, both swords bit through the exposed neck of the Vallkyte prince.

  As a red line of blood seeped out of the cut all along the boy’s throat, his eyes comically looked down at the stump of his axe shaft. His mouth fell open in surprise and he toppled over sideways. There was a hollow thump as his h
ead fell off his neck and rolled down the slope. A ringing noise still issued from the Lobe Stone attached to all that remained of his helmet.

  Bleudwed ran around the half-naked, headless body of Prince Creed and stopped at the Blacksword’s side. The cloak of darkness fell away from his shoulders, piling onto the grass like black ash as the persona of Havoc returned. The king gasped and rested his hands on his knees as he controlled his breathing.

  ‘Thanks for the tip about the harmonics,’ he said to the countess as he straightened up. ‘That was a close fight. The Blacksword has superior strength, but Creed has outmatched him with that armour on. How did you know about the composition of the armour, anyway?’

  The countess shrugged, ‘erm...the armour has been a rumour for a while. I just figured it out, that’s all,’ said Bleudwed, knowing she was lying to the King of the Roguns and the man she loved, making her feel extremely guilty.

  Havoc looked across at Tia who was standing up and arching her back as she healed a broken rib. The king caught her attention and nodded once, then gave her a wide grin. She smiled back.

  Down on the battlefield, victory for the Roguns was absolute. The Unduli and Gazzen-Sel Regiments took many casualties. Without any orders from their prince, they broke and fled leaving mounds of dead behind them. The only exit was into the floodwater where most drowned as their heavy armour pulled them under the water. The Raiders forced the Wyani into a rout, and as they ran, the Carras Knights gave chase and cut them down as they fled. The luckier ones escaped over the marshland where the cavalry could not follow.

  Soon after the end of the battle, the ravens swooped down to cover the field and hop amongst the dead. As the day progressed and the sun shone brighter, the new river clogged with swollen corpses to make their own small dam. Much later, when the historians told future generations of the Second Battle of Dragorsloth, one could reach the other side of the river by walking across a bridge of the fallen.