Soul of Swords (Book 7)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  He didn’t want to be Prince.

  But, then, he hadn’t wanted the runedead to arise or the Aegonar to invade, either. He might as well wish for the sun not to rise every morning.

  Two men strode towards him. One was burly and wore a surcoat with the Prince’s colors over steel plate, his head crowned by a mop of curly brown hair. The other was tall and gaunt, with iron-gray hair, and wore a long black wizard’s coat.

  “Well, sir knight, master wizard, what news?” said Hugh.

  Sir Philip Montigard grunted and scratched his beard. “The news is that it’s damned cold and damned early, and I want something hot to eat.”

  The master wizard Maurus scowled, which was little different than his usual expression. “The Prince of Barellion has requested our presence, Sir Philip. You would do well to show respect.”

  Montigard snorted. “Aye, he’s the Prince, and no doubt about it.” He gave a bow in Hugh’s direction. “But I remember when he was just Sir Hugh, and we’d visit the brothels together. Now we tramp through the mud and chase down serpent-worshipping madmen.” He sighed. “I miss the old days.”

  “As do I,” said Hugh.

  But things were not entirely bleak. In the old days he had not yet met Adelaide…

  “Ah,” said Montigard with a snort, “you’re thinking of your wife. I suggest we whip the Aegonar and go home. Then you can devote your time to planting an heir in your wife’s belly.”

  “That is hardly a proper way,” said Maurus, “to speak of the Lady Consort.”

  Roger returned, holding trenchers laden with bacon and a skin of wine. “From the quartermaster, my lord Prince. And Lord Bryce and Lord Karlam are on their way.”

  “Thank you,” said Hugh.

  “I don’t suppose you thought to bring us all food?” said Montigard, eyeing the squire.

  Roger blinked. “Ah…I saw that my lord Prince had guests, so I made sure to bring enough!” He held out the trenchers.

  “Capital!” said Montigard. “A fine lad. Hugh, if Adelaide has a daughter, you should marry her to this boy.”

  Roger’s flush managed to get deeper.

  “Go and get my horse ready,” said Hugh, “and see to my weapons and armor. We shall ride to battle soon.”

  Roger bowed, handed out the food, and ran off.

  Hugh took a bite of the bacon. “Well?”

  “It is as you thought, my lord Prince,” said Maurus. “The Aegonar are indeed trying to construct a wooden bridge over the wreckage of the Castle Bridge.”

  “Aye,” said Montigard around a mouthful of bread, “Malaric’s witchery tore down the bridge, but the piers are still there, and the Aegonar have thralls laying down planks. Another few days, and they’ll be able to march right over the River of Lords.”

  Hugh cursed. “So that’s why they threw those warbands against us. Not to cause chaos, though they stirred up enough. To distract us while they finished their damned bridge.”

  Maurus nodded. “Several thousand Aegonar warriors are waiting on the northern bank, and a strong band holds the southern bank. As soon as the bridge is complete, I suspect they will cross and construct a ringfort to hold the crossing.”

  Hugh sighed. “And then they’ll bring their whole host across and assail Barellion itself.”

  “Just as well,” said Montigard, taking a swig from the skin of wine, “that you sent that lad to fetch your horse.”

  Armor clanked, and Hugh turned. A dozen lords and knights walked towards him. At their head strode two men in fine plate armor. One was stout and middle-aged, wearing a green surcoat identical to Roger’s. Lord Bryce Spearshore was one of the most powerful lords in Greycoast. He had sworn to Hugh after Malaric’s disastrous defeat at Castle Bridge, and Hugh trusted him.

  He did not trust the man at Lord Bryce’s left.

  Lord Karlam Ganelon of Rutagne was tall and lean, a wispy mustache and pointed beard covering his lip and chin. Despite his foppish appearance, his eyes were hard and cold. Hugh’s father had never trusted Lord Karlam, and Karlam had been one of the first to swear to Malaric. After Malaric’s defeat at Castle Bridge, Karlam had remained aloof, refusing to choose a side until after Hugh had prevailed.

  Lord Karlam also had numerous daughters, and had suggested, more than once, that Hugh divorce Adelaide for a woman of higher birth.

  That had not endeared him to Hugh any further.

  “My lords,” said Hugh. “Thank you for coming. It seems our fears were correct. The Aegonar are building a temporary bridge over the wreckage of Castle Bridge.”

  Lord Karlam swore. “The barbarian devils will not be content until they worship their serpent-god in the ruins of the Prince’s Keep.”

  Lord Bryce shrugged. “The master of the barbarian devils wants Knightcastle, not Barellion. We are simply in their way.”

  Karlam lifted a pale eyebrow. “Then perhaps we ought to permit them passage through Greycoast and let Lord Malden deal with them.”

  Bryce scowled. “Then you would expose the folk of another land to these Aegonar butchers? You know the atrocities they have committed in the north.”

  “I am simply saying it would be a way to get rid of them,” said Karlam.

  “No, Bryce is right,” said Hugh. “If we grant the Aegonar passage, Skalatan and Ryntald would use the opportunity to attack us.” He had met both the San-keth archpriest and the Aegonar High King, and he knew neither one would hesitate to eliminate a potential threat. “And even if they marched south, they would leave a trail ruin a hundred miles wide through southern Greycoast. Perhaps even through your own lands, my lord of Rutagne.”

  Karlam’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing else.

  “No, best we keep the Aegonar on the northern bank of the River of Lords,” said Hugh. “If they cross, it will be a disaster. The sooner we can gather our strength and launch an offensive, the better, but until then, we need to keep them where they are.”

  “What do you propose, my lord Prince?” said Bryce.

  “Master Maurus and Sir Philip have scouted the enemy,” said Hugh. “There are five hundred Aegonar warriors holding the southern bank, waiting for the thralls to finish their wooden bridge. Some ulfhednar and seidjar are among their numbers.”

  A rumble went through the lords and knights. The ulfhednar, the Aegonar berserkers in their bronze serpent helms, were terrible foes. The seidjar, the priests of Sepharivaim, wielded deadly magic in battle.

  “Maurus and our court wizards can handle the seidjar,” said Hugh, and Maurus gave a curt nod. “Dealing with the warriors and the ulfhednar is up to us. The footmen will charge the foe, and once the Aegonar are pinned in place, the horsemen will strike from the flanks.”

  “We have used this tactic before,” said Karlam. “The Aegonar will expect it.”

  “Almost certainly,” said Hugh. “What they will not expect is that I will split our horsemen, and send half of them to circle around the battle. Once our footmen and horsemen have engaged, I will lead a charge into the enemy’s unprotected flank. We can then drive them into the river.”

  “This plan is folly,” said Karlam.

  Montigard scowled. “You question our Prince’s commands?” For all that he teased Hugh in private, in public he was Hugh’s most vocal supporter.

  Karlam glared at the knight. “I am the Prince’s loyal vassal. But we only have six hundred footmen and four hundred mounted men with us. We take unnecessary risk by going into battle with so few. We should send word to Barellion and summon reinforcements. Once they arrive, we can bring superior numbers to bear against the Aegonar. It is highly unlikely the Aegonar will have finished their bridge by then.”

  “Forgive me, Lord Karlam, but I fear that is optimistic,” said Maurus. “The Aegonar are using thralls to build their bridge, peasants conscripted from their conquered lands. They drive the thralls day and night, and I suspect they will finish the bridge within two days.”

  “And if the Aegonar host crosses the River of Lords,
Karlam,” said Bryce, “we will lose the advantage of superior numbers.”

  “I see.” Karlam’s face gave away nothing. “Then I bow to my Prince’s wisdom. My men are ready to march.”

  “Good,” said Hugh. “Lord Bryce, take command of the footmen. I will lead the sortie around the battlefield myself. Lord Karlam, take command of the remainder of the horsemen, and attack as soon as Lord Bryce is engaged.”

  Both lords bowed and went to their respective armsmen, their knights following.

  “A good plan,” said Maurus.

  “Aye,” said Montigard, “we’ll whip those Aegonar. Pity there’s more of them, though.”

  “It should work,” said Hugh, watching Lord Bryce and Lord Karlam walk away. Of course, no battle plan was foolproof, and once the fighting began chaos ruled instead of the commanders. But Hugh thought it should work.

  And the plan offered one other bonus.

  Lord Karlam could not ruin it by betrayal. If Karlam refused to ride to the aid of the footmen, Lord Bryce’s men would be hard-pressed. But they were veterans of the fighting against the runedead and the Aegonar, and they would hold the line until Hugh came to their aid.

  And if Karlam betrayed them …

  “Well,” said Hugh. “We’ll see then, won’t we?”

  “See what, lord Prince?” said Maurus.

  Hugh shook himself out of his dark musings. “We’ll see the Aegonar driven back over the River.”

  Montigard finished his bread and smacked his lips. “That’s the spirit.”

  ###

  Hugh held his lance in one hand and his reins in the other.

  He rode along the southern bank of the River of Lords, steering his horse around the thinning trees. Montigard rode at his right, holding the Chalsain banner, a black tower upon a field of green. Maurus rode at his left, ready to unleash his spells. The River of Lords itself lay to the north, the river itself broad and fast and far too deep to easily cross.

  At least without a bridge.

  Then they left the woods, and both the ruined bridge and the battle came into sight.

  The Castle Bridge had once been tall and strong. A fortified tower, a keep in its own right, had risen from the center of the river, supporting the massive stone bridge. Yet after Malaric lost the battle against the Aegonar, he had unleashed the great winged spirit under his command, destroying the keep and collapsing the bridge into the river.

  The Aegonar had been hard at work building their own bridge. A wooden walkway had been built across the jutting piers and the broken stump of the tower, stretching perhaps two-thirds of the way over the river. The thing looked rickety, but could the Aegonar host could use it to cross the River of Lords in a day, maybe less. Dozens of men stood on the bridge, holding hammers and timbers and watching the battle on the shore.

  A mass of five hundred Aegonar warriors stood in a shield wall, their backs to the river. Lord Bryce’s footmen strove against them, the banner of Spearshore flying overhead, while the Aegonar flew their crimson banners. Hugh glimpsed the bronze serpent helms of ulfhednar, and saw a flare of purple light as the seidjar priests unleashed their arts against the wizards.

  A wedge of horsemen had driven into the flank of the Aegonar shield wall, disrupting their formation.

  Lord Karlam had not betrayed them. At least not today.

  “Sir Philip,” said Hugh, lifting his lance. “The charge.”

  Montigard grinned, his face savage beneath his thick beard, and lifted his war horn. He blew a blast that echoed over the river and the battle, and for a moment the fighting came to a surprised halt. Hugh put spurs to his horse, and the beast surged forward, hooves tearing at the ground. Around him the knights gave a mighty shout and kicked their horses to a gallop. Hugh shifted his grip on his lance, holding it as he had been taught as a child. The knights lowered their lances, forming a gleaming wall of razor-edged steel. The Aegonar warriors shifted, trying to meet the new threat while keeping Lord Bryce’s footmen and Lord Karlam’s horsemen at bay.

  But it was too late.

  An Aegonar warrior whirled to face Hugh, red-bearded face howling in fury, and then Hugh’s lance struck home. The steel point drove through the Aegonar’s scale armor and hurled the warrior to the ground. Hugh ripped the lance free, even as another Aegonar fell beneath his horse’s steel-shod hooves. Around him the knights charged into the Aegonar, men screaming and wood splintering and horses neighing. Hugh drove his lance into another Aegonar, the momentum and weight of his horse driving the weapon forward, and the impact ripped it from his hand. He drew his sword with a steely hiss, twisted in his saddle, and swung.

  The sword crunched halfway through an Aegonar’s neck, and Hugh yanked the weapon free in a spray of crimson drops. Both his knights and Lord Karlam’s tore into the Aegonar, and the shield wall collapsed beneath the weight of Lord Bryce’s footmen. An ulfhednar dashed for Hugh, screaming curses, a broadsword raised over his head. But Hugh waited until the last minute and thrust his sword. The ulfhednar plunged onto the sword blade, face going slack with pain, and Hugh drove an armored boot into the Aegonar’s head.

  The ulfhednar crumpled motionless to the ground. Hugh wheeled his horse, saw the Aegonar retreating in disorder towards the river’s bank. Hugh looked for Montigard, intending to order another charge…

  “Fight, you craven dogs!”

  An Aegonar strode through the fleeing warriors, a gaunt man clad in ragged trousers and a leather vest. Dozens of bronze rings wrought in the shape of serpents encircled his bare arms, piercing the skin.

  A seidjar, a wizard-priest of the Aegonar.

  “Fight!” roared the seidjar, purple light flaring around his fingers. “Fight in the name of great Sepharivaim!”

  The purple haze around his hands brightened.

  Hugh cursed and spurred his horse towards the Aegonar wizard, and a dozen other men did the same. If the seidjar worked his spells, he could kill a score of men in a heartbeat.

  The seidjar gestured, and a serpent fashioned of purple flame leapt from his fingers. Hugh cursed again and urged his horse to greater speed. He had seen the seidjar use that spell before, and those magical serpents could kill dozens.

  Blue light flashed, and the purple serpent dissolved in a puff of smoke. Hugh saw Maurus, black coat flying around him as his hands gestured in a spell. The seidjar whirled to face Maurus, beginning a spell of his own, and Hugh saw his chance. He galloped forward, sword raised. The Aegonar wizard realized his peril and started to turn, but too late. Hugh brought the sword hammering down, reducing the seidjar’s head to bloody ruin.

  The remaining Aegonar broke and ran, sprinting for the river.

  ###

  Smoke rose from the burning bridge.

  “The Aegonar on the northern bank are going to take action,” said Lord Karlam, scowling.

  “Let them,” said Lord Bryce. “They cannot get across the river in any numbers, and we can stop them easily.”

  “They could bring up bowmen or war engines,” said Karlam.

  Bryce shook his head. “Only an Elderborn bow could reach over the river.”

  “Elderborn?” said Karlam with a sneer. “A myth, my lord Bryce. Perhaps you should turn your attention to reality, not to childish fancies…”

  “No, he’s right,” murmured Hugh, looking past the burning timbers of the makeshift bridge to the milling Aegonar on the far bank. “There are Elderborn. Lord Mazael’s wife is half-Elderborn, and look what he did to save her.”

  No one had a response to that.

  “As soon as we march south,” said Bryce at last, “those Aegonar will try to cross.”

  “Aye,” said Hugh, “but not in large enough numbers to threaten Barellion or any of the castles.”

  “Raiding parties,” said Bryce. “As they have before.”

  Hugh nodded. “We’ll keep men patrolling along the banks of the river. They’ll deal with any raiders, and if the Aegonar gather in numbers large enough to launch an assault, w
e’ll know and have time to prepare.”

  He only hoped Skalatan did not open a mistgate. The San-keth archpriest had used a mistgate to escape the Prince’s Keep. If Skalatan used his magic to launch a quick attack…

  Hugh shook his head. If Skalatan could have used a mistgate to move the entire Aegonar host over the River of Lords, he would have done so already.

  “Then,” said Karlam with a scowl, “we will merely wait.”

  “For now,” said Hugh.

  “So rather than take the offensive and drive the Aegonar from Greycoast,” said Karlam, “we shall merely cower behind the River of Lords and hope the Aegonar die of old age? Or will we wait for Lord Mazael to come and save us?”

  “We shall launch an offensive ourselves,” said Hugh, “when the time is right. And not a moment before. Greycoast has lost too many men to the runedead and the Aegonar. If we attack before the time is ripe, we risk disaster. Mazael’s aid will be welcome, but we will not rely on it.” Mazael had promised to return with the armies of the Grim Marches, to revenge Skalatan’s attack upon his wife. But with the chaos unleashed by the runedead, Hugh knew better than to rely on Mazael’s aid.

  Karlam sneered. “I should have known. Prince Everard sat on his hands as the runedead rose and the Aegonar conquered half of our land, and it seems his youngest son is little…”

  Hugh turned, his grip on his temper slipping. “Indeed, my lord Karlam? And when my father called for aid against the Aegonar, you managed to keep your men out of the fighting. Perhaps if you had…”

  Karlam’s thin face darkened, and the argument might have gone further, but a low moaning filled Hugh’s ears.

  All the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  He cursed, stepped back, and drew his sword.

  Karlam’s eyes widened. “What is this? You would draw steel upon your own vassals? You…”

  “Karlam, shut up,” said Bryce, drawing his own sword. “Can’t you hear that? It’s happening again!”