by Duncan Pile
Ferast glanced down to find his spell of invisibility had dropped. Hurriedly, he restored it, stunned that he’d been lying there on the ground, visible to all and vulnerable to attack, and yet he’d not been touched. Looking around, he realised that he’d fallen amidst numerous bodies, littered across the ground. People would have seen his prone form and assumed he was just another corpse.
Grimacing, he rose to his feet and moved slowly towards the gate. The battle was raging only yards away but it felt like a million miles. He staggered on, passing the gate, and paused to cling to the wall for a moment until his head stopped spinning. He reached for his power to heal himself but couldn’t grasp it, so disoriented was he by the throbbing in his skull. He felt like he was about to throw up, but he pushed himself off the wall and climbed the stairs one at a time until he reached the parapet.
Steading himself against the cold stone, Ferast let the chill wind cool his head for a moment before opening his eyes and taking in the scene before him. It took him a while to understand what he was seeing, but as the picture became clear, fear uncoiled in his belly. Thousands of men were fleeing the field, led by Antoine, who appeared to be deserting. Ferast couldn’t believe his eyes. How could this have happened? Understanding dawned, accompanied by a freezing sensation in the pit of his stomach. His compulsion must have failed when he’d lost consciousness, along with the spell of invisibility. It was impossible to reinstate it now at such a distance, and especially with men who would consciously resist a further intrusion into their minds. A prickling sensation between his shoulder blades intensified as he watched, and he spun around, half-expecting to see Sestin standing behind him. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief and began to think fast. It was he, Ferast, who had raised this army, and now half of it was fleeing the battle. Was there any way of remedying the situation? If he transported right now and coerced Antoine into returning, would that make a difference?
He already knew the answer. Sestin had no mercy; he would never forgive him for this. Ferast had experienced the archmage’s ire after his failure to kill Gaspi at the Measure. The punishment had been unendurable. It had broken him, physically and mentally, and he didn’t know if he could face such pain a second time.
Ferast continued to watch, struggling to reconcile himself to the course of action he knew he must take. Out on the plain, Antoine’s men had come to a stop and had regrouped. Antoine was speaking to them, and for a brief moment Ferast dared to hope this was all part of the Man in Black's strategy, but his hopes were dashed when the men he spoke to began to stream away and desert the battle altogether. Antoine himself remained, and when all was said and done, about a thousand men stood with him. Moments later, they were charging back into the fray, a mighty roar issuing from their lips. The men at the rear of Sestin’s force turned to face them, bewildered and in disarray, and the two forces met with a colossal crash.
Ferast groaned. Things were getting worse by the minute! Even depleted, Sestin’s army would have crushed the dwindling band of defenders if not for Antoine’s betrayal, and now they were fighting on two fronts. They still had the larger force, but the demons had all been defeated and Helioport’s army contained a number of powerful magicians, along with those damnable elementals, whose powers were considerable.
A flicker of movement drew his gaze to the horizon, where a dark smudge was spreading before his eyes, and it wasn’t long before it filled the plain from side to side. Another army! Briefly, he considered that Sestin might have allies he’d kept from Ferast, but quickly dismissed the notion. Sestin had brought his full might to the battle, and if not for Antoine’s desertion, would have crushed the last of Helioport’s defence by now. This new force was allied to the defenders.
He glanced again at Antoine’s men, who were cutting a deep, bloody swathe into their rearmost ranks of the Sestin’s army. Confusion reigned among Sestin’s troops, until even the front lines began to falter, disturbed by the sounds of battle behind them. Ferast heard a mighty roar, and saw the golem wading back through the mercenary force, heading towards the turncoats.
Ferast was gripped by sudden, all-consuming alarm. What was he standing around like an idiot for? He had to get out of there, and fast. Concentrating as hard as he could, he reached for his power and this time he managed to grasp it. Healing energy seeped through his body and repaired the damage to his skull. His vision cleared and the feeling of nausea dissipated.
Turning on his heel, he rushed down a nearby stairwell and slipped back through the gate. Cloaked in invisibility, he rushed silently past the melee, away from the battle and away from his Master. Ferast ground his teeth as he fled, knowing that he could never allow Sestin to catch him, or he would be worse than dead. He would escape to the east, seeking a large port on Antropel’s coast, where he’d board the first available ship and leave this land behind, never to return.
Forty
Antoine fought like a devil, cutting a crimson path through the heavy press of men, who fell before him one by one. He knew some of them by sight and a few by name, but right now they were his enemies, and he couldn’t allow himself a moment’s hesitation or remorse. The people of Helioport were innocent; they had not asked for this, but the men he cut down were mercenaries, hired killers who had long ago embraced the risk of dying in battle. A giant of a man rose before him; six and a half feet tall and covered in blood. Antoine recognised Red Dan – a butcher of men who lived for the kill and relished in slaughter. He was a rapist and a thug; the very worst that Namert had to offer. Suddenly, holding remorse at bay was no longer an effort.
Red Dan was caught in the thrall of bloodlust, his eyes gleaming feverishly as he swung his double-headed axe. Antoine knocked the blow aside and spun on his heel, shattering Dan’s nose and cheekbones with a sharp jab of his elbow. Dan fell back, roaring in fury and trying to wipe the blood from his face. Antoine pivoted hard, launching a blow that began with his hips and surged through his back, chest, shoulders and arms, splitting Red Dan from neck to groin. Blood spattered Antoine as the giant fell, twitching to the ground.
Antoine’s men were fighting out of their skin, and he felt a moment’s pride as he watched them decimate the nearby ranks of Sestin’s army. They were fighting for more than coin now, their features etched with gritty determination. On and on they fought, until at last their opponents rallied and began to organise themselves, putting up a real defence. Their progress ground to a near halt as both sides tried desperately to gain ground. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Antoine found himself wondering if their best efforts would prove to be enough, or if the people of Helioport were going to die, despite his best efforts.
A fearsome roar sounded from nearby. Antoine looked around to find the bone golem striding in his direction, furiously flinging its own men out of the way. Sestin! Antoine went cold. This was it. The arch-mage would never let him leave the field of battle alive. If he was lucky, Sestin would snuff his life out in anger. If he was unlucky…
The ground shook harder and harder as the golem neared him. Was its footfall so heavy? Sweat broke out on his brow as the shuddering intensified. The golem came to a stop, its empty, glowing eye sockets coming to rest on Antoine, who raised his sword. If this was to be his last battle, he was going to go out fighting. “You will pay for your betrayal,” the golem growled, lunging towards him. Antoine’s men rushed to interpose themselves between him and Sestin’s monster, but the golem grabbed one of them – a loyal member of the Black Guard called Gideon – by the foot and dashed his head against the ground. Blood and brains dripped from his shattered skull as the golem lifted Gideon’s body and started laying into the others, swinging it like a club.
“No!” Antoine barked. “Back off! This fight is mine.”
Reluctantly, his men retreated and Antoine dropped into a defensive stance. He steeled himself, ready to fight for his life, but the golem didn’t attack. It reared in alarm, looking out over the plain. Antoine turned too, suddenly conscious that the rumbling beneath his feet had conti
nued to intensify, even after the golem had come to a stop. Without a word, the golem turned its back on Antoine and rushed back towards the heart of the battle.
Bewildered, Antoine turned to the nearest of his men. “Daffid, I need to see what’s going on out there,” he said.
Daffid knelt down and made a cradle with his hands. Antoine planted his boot in the cradle and raised himself off the ground. His eyes widened at the sight that had spooked the golem – an army of ogres stretched across the plain and was rushing in their direction. They would be here in no time!
Dropping back to the ground, he tried to make sense of what he’d seen. Sestin had clearly been shocked by the appearance of ogres, which could only mean one thing; the ogres fought for Helioport. Elation turned to alarm in a matter of moments. Helioport would be saved, but if he didn’t get his men out of there as quickly as possible they’d be taken for the enemy and every last one of them would die.
Spinning around, he quickly spotted another rock protruding from the plain. Sprinting towards it, he hoisted himself onto its flat top. “MEN! ABANDON YOUR POSTS. WE FLEE!”
Some heard him, some did not, absorbed as they were in the cut and thrust of battle. Once more, he bellowed the order before jumping to the ground and grabbing his lieutenants. “Rush them, harry them, just get them out of here. Now!”
Within moments, men were streaming from the battle, starting with those who could see the ogres approaching. Soon, the majority of Antoine’s rebel army were in full flight, escaping the field of battle with their lives.
…
“Put me down!” Baard said, but Khul ignored him and carried on running. “I said put me down!”
Khul shook his enormous head. “You will be crushed,” he rumbled.
Baard grunted. Much as he hated to admit it, Khul was right. Thousands of ogres followed them, pounding across the ground at a pace he couldn’t hope to keep up with. One slip and he would be flattened. Reconciling himself to hold on until battle was joined, Baard looked towards Helioport and the carnage outside its walls. A tide of black-clad men were milling about, seemingly battling against each other rather than against Helioport’s army. It didn’t make any sense, but it gave him hope. Perhaps the defenders still stood, in which case they had made it in time.
Even as the ogres drew near, some of the men peeled off and fled. Baard smiled tightly. Perhaps they lacked the appetite to take on a horde of angry giants. The trickle became a torrent as more mercenaries saw them coming, and soon a host of men were fleeing the field.
“Want us to stop ’em?” Khul said.
Baard pondered it for a second. “Let ’em go. First priority is to break the siege.”
“Right you are,” Khul said, before bellowing orders to the other Kaas. The rearmost ranks of Sestin’s army turned to face them, faces white and grim as they gripped their weapons in trembling hands. Many tried to run, but there was no escaping the ogres, who broke into a mighty roar and chased the deserters down with long, bounding strides. Baard broke into a grin as a nearby Kaas bludgeoned a mercenary with a heavy cudgel, smashing his head to a pulp.
Khul caught one of the deserters before he’d gone a dozen yards, bashing him to the ground with the back of his hand and pinning him down with an enormous foot. “Yours, Gunthaak-Bane,” he growled.
After hours of being jostled, Baard slid gratefully to the ground, feeling battered and bruised all over, but there was no time to recover. Even now, his friends were fighting for their lives – that is, if they still lived. Gritting his teeth, he reached over his shoulders with both hands and drew Bonebreaker. The mercenary’s eyes widened, his gaze fixed on the massive twin blades, glowering with a palpable aura of power. He tried to get away, wriggling desperately beneath the ogre’s foot, but Khul held him fast. Taking a wide-legged stance, Baard raised the weapon above his head and grinned, holding the mercenary’s terrified gaze. The blade whistled through the air and clove the man’s head in two, splitting it neatly from chin to skull.
His aches banished by bloodlust, Baard raised his eyes to the ranks of his enemies, lifted Bonebreaker once more and charged.
Forty-one
Gaspi fought on, holding to the desperate hope that they may yet be saved. The mercenary army was in disarray, cries of anger and pain continuing to sound from deep within its ranks. They still vastly outnumbered the defenders, and Gaspi was keenly aware that at any moment they might gather themselves and attack in earnest once more. On the far side of the battle, the golem let out a mighty roar and rushed angrily into its own ranks, casting men aside as if they were enemies rather than allies.
“What’s going on?” Taurnil said.
“I don’t know,” Gaspi said. “But it has to be good news.” Whatever the cause of the disturbance, it was enough to make Sestin intervene directly.
“Yep,” Taurnil said, braining another man with his staff.
Barely a dozen yards away, the mercenaries surged forward, overwhelming the outnumbered defenders. A guard collapsed, an axe blade planted in his chest, and another tripped over him, falling onto his back. Gaspi drew on his powers and formed a powerful head of wind, casting the mercenaries back into their ranks even as they tried to rush forward and finish the fallen guardsman. Taurn helped the man to his feet and stepped into the breach before the enemy could mount another attack. Gaspi strengthened his friend’s shield.
On he fought, casting spell after spell into the mercenary ranks. He was exhausted, drained of much of his strength and drawing on the dregs of his power. All around him, defenders swung their weapons with weary arms. Surely they’d given all they could! The minutes passed by with agonising slowness, and despite the uproar among Sestin’s men, the defenders were still being pressed on every side.
The golem’s roar sounded once more as it strode urgently back towards the battle. Once again it cast men aside, its baleful gaze fixed on the heart of the defending army. It pushed past the front lines and tore its way through the defenders, closing in on the heart of Helioport’s army, where Trask and Hephistole commanded. Many tried to block its path, throwing themselves bravely before it, only to be cast aside like so much refuse.
Some dire instinct fired in Gaspi’s gut. “We’ve got to get there first,” he said, drawing on his power and forcing the men ahead of him aside. Guardsmen cried out as they were thrown from their feet, thinking they were under attack, but Gaspi didn’t spare them a thought. He had to reach Hephistole!
He broke into a run, ploughing through the defenders. Taurnil pounded along heavily in his wake, his boots slapping noisily in the mud.
They broke through a final knot of men and saw the golem had beaten them to it. Dozens of guardsmen were attacking it, but their blades were useless against the spells Sestin had used to strengthen its frame. It snatched up a swordsman, who had flung himself between it and the chancellor, and bit his head off. Helioport’s commanders were showered in blood.
“Stop!” Hephistole cried. He was on his feet but he was swaying, as if about to collapse. His face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. “You are defeated Sestin. Leave my people be.”
“Fool!” the golem sneered. “Do you think I care about the fate of this army? You can kill them, for all I care.” The golem glanced up at the city before returning its gaze to Hephistole. “I had hoped to tear Helioport down stone by stone, to see its citizens dragged out from their hidey-holes. I was going to make you watch while I killed them, man, woman and child, but alas I have been thwarted. Even so, I am not defeated, not while I have you in my grasp!”
The golem’s arm snaked out, its giant claws snatching at the chancellor.
Gaspi reacted instinctively, thrusting out with his power and striking the golem with a bolt of lightning. The golem staggered, arrested by the riot of energy, but it had no flesh to burn and no heart to stop and quickly regained its footing. Its burning gaze fell upon Gaspi.
“Stay away from him!” Gaspi spat. He stepped forward, his hands clenched to h
ide his trembling fingers. His heart was beating out of his chest.
“Nature Mage,” the golem growled and leapt forward, lashing out with a jagged fist. It missed him by a foot, sharp bone whistling through the air.
“At long last, I have you,” the golem crowed, its enormous head lowered menacingly.
Gaspi threaded power into Taurnil’s shield. He could only hope it would withstand a blow a from the golem’s fist.
“You cannot defeat me, Nature Mage!” the golem hissed, lashing out with a bony foot. Gaspi dove one way, Taurnil the other, and the blow missed them both, leaving a deep furrow in the ground.
Gaspi was desperate to keep Sestin talking, putting off the moment when his shield would be tested by a direct blow. “Why are you hiding behind this puppet?” he taunted. “Afraid to pit your powers against mine?”
The golem hissed in fury and lurched into motion, reaching him in three long strides and stretching out a grasping, skeletal hand. There was no time to get out of the way. Gaspi summoned a shield, but he feared it wouldn’t hold. He was weary from battle, drained of much of his strength, and the golem was more powerful than any of the demons he had fought. He braced himself for the blow but the hand never reached him, smashed aside by Taurnil’s staff.
Fragments of shattered bone scattered across the ground – the first damage that had been inflicted on the golem’s magically enhanced form. Pivoting on its heel, it swung at Taurnil with a bony fist. Gaspi flooded Taurnil’s shield even as his best friend dove aside. The golem landed a glancing blow, but Taurnil escaped the worst of the impact and rolled out of the way. Dark spots danced before Gaspi’s eyes. It had taken all of his strength to divert the blow, and it hadn’t even been a direct hit.
“Keep moving Taurn,” he said through gritted teeth. If they didn’t find a way to destroy the thing quickly, they were finished.
