They road on for a good distance and the horses seemed to be happy that they were away from whatever danger it was they had sensed earlier. Lucian squinted, trying to see through the dense fog for any sign of the city. Suddenly he caught the glimmer of something barely visible across the road in front of them. Not having any idea what it could have been, it was instinct more than anything that caused him to yank back on the reigns with one hand as he held his other high in the air, signaling the others to halt as well. Thunder came to a grinding halt, kicking up dirt and stone as it dug in its hooves. Eliath's powerful grey and black gelding stopped alongside of him but Tarriel burst ahead.
“Stop!” screamed Lucian. He didn't know if she was just being stubborn, or if her lack of skill kept her from being able to stop the horse so suddenly.
Her scream answered the question. Soon after it was the horse’s squeal that rang out through the night air as it buckled and sent Tarriel flying over its head to land hard, skipping across the unforgiving ground. Lucian knew that whatever he had seen ahead was what had cut the horse down. Whoever their attackers were, they had expected to spook the horses into charging ahead blindly. Lucian had no time to feel foolish over his decision to lead them all right into a trap. Tarriel was down and he had no doubt that whoever set the trap was bearing down on her as she was sprawled out on the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. Lucian swung his leg over Thunder’s neck and landed on the ground in a dead sprint toward Tarriel. Eliath was right on his heals along with Solomon, Thaddeus and Orton. The Culdorans were not far behind, anxious to come to the aid of their fallen commander.
Just before Lucian got to Tarriel, a chorus of loud battle cries rang out from the fog all around them. The sudden realization of the number of enemies that must be upon them shocked him. Three large forms burst into view coming toward him, opposite Tarriel’s unconscious body. He flinched as an Ortsk battle-axe whiffed past his head from behind, striking one of the men in the chest and knocking his legs out from under him. He met the other two attackers just as they reached Tarriel, sliding into a defensive stance over her body. He was barely able to hold his balance as Eliath brushed by him in midair.
Eliath’s bastard sword was already free and he launched himself past Lucian and over Tarriel, under the swinging blade of the lead man, and into a brute that was making ready to chop down at her with a large battle axe. He was a human spear with his sword leading the way, hitting the man square in the chest while the axe was still held high over his head. The man's face contorted as Eliath’s sword stabbed through his chest all the way to the hilt. The brute fell backwards, dropping the axe into Eliath’s waiting grasp. He rolled up to his feet and slammed the shaft of the axe into the chest of another foe, knocking him off his feet. As the man hit the ground, Eliath buried the axe deep into his torso.
Lucian lunged forward after Eliath’s flight and slammed his shoulder into the lead attacker’s chest once the man had missed Eliath with his sword. They toppled backwards away from Tarriel and began to grapple in the mud. Lucian was much stronger, and quickly overpowered the brute, coming around behind him and clamping his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing with all his strength. Soon the attacker’s body went limp and Lucian let him roll over into the mud.
The Culdorans had formed their war circle, joined by Solomon and the Sanjeeran. They were spinning and maneuvering to get closer to Lucian and the others while fighting off the assailants as they came. Thaddeus and Orton rushed up just as another group of men came charging in at Lucian and Eliath. Orton roared out as he met the attack with Thaddeus by his side. The ambushers looked a little shaken by the size of the two Ortsk warriors but they came on anyway. Thaddeus, who favored a polearm in battle, was sweeping around with the long reach weapon causing several men to stay on the defensive, trying to keep away from the deadly series of attacks that he was laying down. He faked an opening and two of the men rushed in to attack. With a quick pivot, Thaddeus was in close to them, slamming his shaft into their chests, shattering ribs and knocking their feet out from under them. Just as the men were hitting the ground, Thaddeus had reversed his grip on the polearm and pulled a knife free from his belt, slamming both blades simultaneously into the downed men.
Orton came around with a mighty swing of his finely made, two-handed longsword, cleaving through a club raised in defense and into the man’s head. Before he could dislodge his blade, two more men were on him. He punched out at the closest, after dodging a thrust from a sword, and shattered the man’s jaw. The second tackled him to the ground but it was foolish to take on Orton in close quarters. He quickly gained the advantage and spun the man around then wrenched his head backwards, snapping his neck. He heard another attacker charging in from behind him and turned around to see the man fall face first into the mud in front of him with a large battle axe lodged in his back. Eliath gave him a short nod and spun to face another attacker.
Within a minute, the fight was over. Solomon and the Culdorans had fought their way to Lucian and had cleaved a bloody path along the way. Lucian stood over Tarriel, trying to get her to wake. She was starting to come around. He was relieved that no one had been killed and only a few had taken minor injuries. Everyone was breathing heavy but stood alert and ready in case another wave of attackers came on. They all formed a circle around Tarriel as Lucian tried to revive her.
“Who are these men, does anyone recognize them?” asked Lucian as he looked around at the bodies of their enemy. There looked to be about fifteen to twenty men lying dead all around them.
“They look like roughnecks, brutes. They wear no uniform,” said Orton as he moved over all the bodies, inspecting them.
“This was an organized attack, somebody sent them,” said Lucian as he thought it over. These men were not soldiers, they were unskilled. Why would someone send them in to attack first?
His eyes widened as he realized the answer.
They were fodder, sent in only to tire and weaken him and the others. He started to stand and scream out for everyone to be ready when he heard the sound of a blade cutting through the air and then a scream as it found its target. He spun around and saw that it was Orton who screamed, but not because he had been hit. Thaddeus slowly fell backwards and crashed to the ground. A short, black-steel blade protruded from his forehead. The world seemed to slow as Lucian heard the tell-tale sound of more blades cutting through the air and more screams as other targets were found.
Lucian felt two sharp rings as something impacted the back panel of his armor. He spun to face the threat and there was no one there. Two black steel blades sat at his feet, their tips flattened. He looked up in shock as more than a dozen figures clad in black leather armor seemed to materialize out of the fog. Simultaneously, they all pulled free a long, thin sword, made of the same black steel, from sheaths on their backs. Lucian heard Orton roar and charge toward the men. He yelled out for him to stop and stay with the circle but the warrior was lost in the grip of rage. The giant oak rushed toward the smaller men and no sooner did he meet them, then they cut him down like a sapling. It happened so fast that Lucian thought he might have been seeing things, but Orton’s dismembered body lying at their feet spoke true.
He shook with fury as the men in black stood in a large circle surrounding him and the others. They didn’t attack but stood motionless, poised and ready, as if waiting for Lucian and the others to make the first move. The fog broke in an area for a moment and Lucian thought he saw another figure clothed in black armor standing back from the others. But just as he saw him, the fog crept in again and he was gone.
Lucian let loose his rage, abandoned his judgment, and threw himself toward the closest assassins. He couldn’t hear the screams of his friends, telling him to stop. He couldn’t hear the wet mud suck around his boots as he charged ahead. The only sound was that of his heart, pounding ferociously in his ears. He thrust out for the first assassin he came to, his blade striking only air. He felt a sting to his side and another to his back. The ass
assin was now behind him. He spun and swung wildly, left and right. He was surrounded but he hit nothing as the assassins easily avoided his reckless strokes. He was amazed at how quickly the men moved. He felt something slam his sword and then it was flying through the air. He was unarmed now. Suddenly an assassin was directly in front of him. Before he could react, the man spun and kicked him in the chest. Lucian landed hard in the mud, gasping, trying to pull the air back that was knocked from his lungs with such impossible force. Blackened steel blades pulled back, ready to thrust in and chop down into his flesh.
†††
Eliath couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After Thaddeus and some others had been hit by throwing knives, black figures emerged from the fog, surrounding them. He saw not only assassins, but his fallen brethren as well, many of them, scattered around the attackers. He watched as several of the men were taken by them, a transformation that none but Eliath could witness.
Dar’ Lahnrael was making a bold move this night.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucian rushing toward several of the possessed men. He screamed out, “Stop, they are not as they appear.” But Lucian would not heed his warning.
He started for his friend but one of the assassin’s pointed at him and screamed out, “Kill the guardian!” His voice was something other than his own.
A group of them came at him. He looked to his friend, his charge, who now battled hopelessly with the possessed men.
“Father, help us. Protect him,” he whispered. His only hope was that Lucian survived long enough so that he could make it to his side.
Eliath turned to face his assailants. He gritted his teeth and a holy fire ignited in his eyes. He quickly scooped up Thaddeus' fallen polearm as he charged toward the oncoming assassins, his own blade he kept sheathed. As he neared the first of the men, he faked a powerful head level swing but quickly re-angled his attack and swept the blade low, under the man's defense. The fine Ortsk blade passed easily through the assassin's legs. The man screeched out as he toppled helplessly into the mud. The host that possessed him roared out in anger from being forced out of the man's body by the shock of the injury. Eliath quickly maneuvered to the side so he wouldn't be surrounded. He brought the polearm up, defeating two overhead chops, and kicked out behind him, connecting with an assassin’s chest and sending him flying back into the mud.
The two assassins in front of Eliath pressed him hard, but he worked the polearm expertly, deflecting every attack. He swept out to the right with the long weapon causing his target to jump back and as the other assassin bore in on him at the opening he thought he had, Eliath let go of the shaft with his left hand and spun the polearm in a circle over his head. The assassin saw the maneuver too late and could do nothing as the tip of the polearm blade sliced through his throat, severing his head. Eliath let his right hand slide down to the end of the shaft and thrust out with it like a sword. The assassin who was regaining his feet after dodging the first swipe could not have expected such a strike for few men had the strength to extend so far with the heavy weapon. He screamed out in shock as the blade pierced his chest and heart.
Eliath turned to face the other assassins that quickly surrounded him. He could see the faces of his fallen brethren, screaming from within the masked faces of the men they inhabited. They mocked, and cursed him. He paid them no attention, thinking only of Lucian. A quick glimpse took in his surroundings. The others had joined into the battle against the assassins. Lucian was swinging wildly at several of the possessed men but they easily avoided his frantic swipes.
Eliath batted away blackened blades as they thrust and sliced in at him. He spun around under one, sweeping out with the long polearm and sending several men skittering back while coming in close to the attacker. He slammed his elbow back into the man's nose without looking. Blood sprayed from the flattened nose but the assassin didn't flinch and instead hooked Eliath's arm in an attempt to lock it in. Eliath contracted his stomach muscles and torqued his body around, pulling down with the arm that was hooked. The assassin that had latched onto him was launched over his shoulder and into two of his allies. He unluckily caught a blade through his back from one of the men who was thrusting forward with an attack. The three of them tumbled into the mud.
Then Eliath watched in horror as a trio of his evil kin joined together in taking one of the assassins. The man ran at him screaming and frothing at the mouth. Instinctively Eliath thrust his polearm into the man’s abdomen as he came on. It was what they had been hoping for. The assassin stood with Eliath's weapon buried deep in his stomach and pulled himself forward. He grabbed Eliath's wrists, locking the polearm within him and taking it out of the battle. Three wicked smiles peered up at Eliath from behind the assassin’s wide eyes and two more cutthroats charged in from behind.
"You foolish, vile creatures," said Eliath as he yanked his hands free, leaving the polearm within the man. He pulled free the short sword sheathed at his hip and with one quick swipe, lopped off the assassin's head. The sound of the three fallen, screeching together as they left the lifeless body pleased Eliath. He spun under a swiping attack and spilled the intestines of another assassin. He swept up high with a powerful swing, deflecting an incoming blade out wide and snatched the man’s throat. With a quick thrust of his thumb he crushed the windpipe. The assassin's hands came up to his throat as he fell to his knees. Eliath felt someone at his back and spun to attack when he noticed it was Solomon, panting from exertion. His twin gauntlets dripped with blood.
Eliath looked around and saw no other assassins standing except those around Lucian who was down now, lying on his back. Several blackened blades raised high, about to cut him to pieces.
Eliath screamed out as he watched the trio of swords descending toward Lucian, the Chosen One. "How could this be?" he wondered. He saw Solomon screaming as well and running toward Lucian when he heard a loud crack, like when lightning strikes. A concussion of air slammed into his back, nearly knocking him to his knees. He saw the priest fly forward into the mud next to him. A blinding light cut through the fog and the rain seemed to cease all at once. He slowly turned around to face the source of light, and smiled a weary smile. Tears rolled down his cheeks, forming channels through his muddy, blood soaked face. He dropped his sword and sank to his knees next to Solomon, rolling him over so that his face was out of the mud, he did not wake but Eliath knew that the Priest was all right.
Screams filled the sky, growing louder and rising in pitch.
The Revelation
Lucian lay on his back as the three assassins brought their blades back to strike. He tried to bring his arms up for some type of feeble defense but they stepped on his wrists, pinning them to the ground. He would have thought the men weighed a thousand pounds each. As the blades reached their apex, his life flashed before him. In the end he saw the charred bodies of his parents, tied to a pole in their home.
He screamed out in defiance at the men who were about to kill him. Their eyes seemed to hold an evil darkness. His body burned with anger and he screamed again as he heaved against the feet holding his wrists down. As he did so, a bright light illuminated the men and they went hurtling through the air. Lucian stayed on his back in the mud for a moment, not believing that he could have just thrown those men off of him.
He pushed himself up painfully. He had to get up. The assassins would surely be gathering again to mount another attack. Screams started to pierce the sky, horrid screams, that threatened to burst his ears. As he came up into a seated position and was able to see who was screaming and why, he stared in shock.
The three assassins that had been about to kill him were now writhing and shaking in the mud, screaming. As Lucian watched in disgust, the three men came up onto their knees and started clawing at their faces until their eyes were ripped out. Then, all at once, they fell over face first into the mud. Lucian knew without a doubt that they were dead. He blinked at the scene for a moment, then stood and turned around to see how his friends ha
d faired. His knees buckled and he collapsed again.
Eliath was standing over Solomon, who appeared to be unconscious, and was staring at him with a tear streaked face. But Lucian never saw them. His eyes took in the figures that stood behind them, what looked to be nearly four score of giant men, at least eight feet tall, donned in magnificent, gleaming armor. It was the most intimidating site he had ever seen. Each man seemed to glow with a golden hue. Their skin and bodies were flawless and their armor was in pristine condition. The light that shone around them was so bright, yet for some strange reason it didn't cause him to squint, not bothering his eyes at all. The rain continued to poor down on Lucian and all around the host of brilliantly armored men, yet not a drop hit them. He watched as the rain came straight in at them and then, impossibly it seemed, it would evaporate in midair.
He blinked at what he was seeing. He had heard stories of such sights, fairytales from his father he thought. Never in his life did he imagine that he might see such a thing.
One figure, at the forefront of the line of warriors, wore a slightly different suit of armor. His head was shaved but for a small patch of long black hair in the back that was tied up and flowed down past his lower back. A glowing rune showed on his forehead, almost like a tattoo. Lucian noticed many of the other warriors with similar markings but this man, or being, was the only one with such a symbol on his forehead. Somehow, his armor seemed even more impressive than that of the others. He moved forward several steps to stand in front of Lucian who stared up at the intimidating man, unable to move. His upper arms and legs were exposed, revealing powerfully muscled limbs that looked to be formed of iron. Lucian trembled until the man knelt and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Revelations of Doom Page 29
