What are they doing now? asked Belwynn, unsure whether to be intimidated or amused.
I don’t know, replied Soren, sounding equally bewildered. They might be trying to provoke us into attacking them, but surely they don’t think we’re that stupid.
The vossi tactics were now challenged by Herin who, evidently getting bored with the impasse, fired an arrow straight at one of the demonstrating vossi, which struck it full in the chest; the creature keeled over in the middle of the clearing. Herin quickly grabbed another bolt and pulled back the string of his bow, threatening to repeat the attack. This gesture caused the clearing to empty again as the vossi retreated to the treeline.
The screaming amongst the vossi now resumed, and soon large numbers were being pushed forwards towards the mound. A barrage of missiles descended upon the defenders as they were forced to take cover behind the two oak trees. Belwynn, Soren, and Elana knelt down as stray stones hurtled in their direction. Clarin also knelt down and, rather than using one of the trees as cover, he placed his whole body behind his shield. This seemed to invite attack, and the vast majority of missiles were now raining down on the large warrior as the vossi sought to penetrate his defence. However, the vossi had used many of their long-range weapons already this day, and they did not seem to have either the amount of ammunition or the skill to succeed in getting past Clarin’s shield.
Herin and Gyrmund now began to shoot back at the vossi, each shielded by one of the trees. They were increasingly able to pick off their targets without putting themselves in too much danger. Herin had an upright style, pulling the string to his chest and looking around before he let go. Gyrmund pulled his string all the way back to his ear, carefully aiming the flight of his arrow so that he was as accurate and deadly as possible.
It wasn’t long before the vossi leaders realised that the missile contest wasn’t getting them anywhere and screamed new orders to their troops. The vossi stopped shooting altogether, and a short period of silence followed, interrupted by the hard twang of Herin and Gyrmund’s bow strings as they continued to take advantage of the sitting targets.
Then, one by one, the vossi began to scream their defiance to those on the mound until every single warrior joined in the chorus.
‘Prepare yourselves,’ shouted Herin above the cacophony.
As the words left his mouth, the vossi charged. It was a disorganised mess, since many of them didn’t seem sure which part of the mound they should be attacking, but it was a frightening sight nonetheless. Herin and Gyrmund had a few seconds to release their last arrows before discarding their bows and drawing their swords.
The vossi reached the centre of the mound first. Once they were only a few yards away, Clarin led a counter-charge into the enemy. Shouting twice as loudly as any of the vossi, he used his shield as a battering weapon, shoving it into the vossi at face height and then bringing his sword over his shoulder in a high arc so that it crashed down into his chosen victim with such force that it almost cleaved it in two. Herin and Gyrmund followed his move, slashing into the vossi with speed and strength while retaining enough manoeuvrability to dodge the returned blows. The vossi who had reached the mound first now looked like they regretted it, but the ranks behind them pushed them onwards, forcing the three defenders to back away to their original places in between the two great oaks. This was no bad thing, as the vossi were no longer able to outflank Herin or Gyrmund, but had to come at them face on.
In the meantime, more of the vossi had reached the two sides of the mound. To Belwynn’s right, Moneva was parrying and defending her position on the other side of Gyrmund’s oak tree, while Kaved was hacking and slashing at the vossi with sufficient aggression to keep them at bay. Belwynn turned her attention to the left, where the vossi were just reaching Rabigar and Dirk. As the first vossi approached, Dirk took an enormous back-swing with his mace and aimed a blow. The weapon connected powerfully with the face of its target, leaving the vossi in a crumpled heap on the floor, its head lolling at a strange angle away from the rest of its body. Unfortunately, the force of Dirk’s blow was so powerful that it pitched him forwards, and, as the next vossi came towards him, he didn’t have enough time to pull back the mace to defend himself from the blow.
The vossi thrust a wicked looking blade towards Dirk’s midriff and the best the priest could do was to twist his body away and try to avoid the impact. He was unable to escape the blow, however, as the vossi lunged forward and stabbed into his side.
The blade penetrated deeply, before the vossi withdrew the weapon, leaving a deep gash pouring with blood. Dirk staggered backwards, then collapsed to the ground. As the vossi stood to full height, the blade of Rabigar’s sword sliced into its neck, killing it immediately. The Krykker proceeded to swing his weapon in deadly circles, forcing the other vossi to back away as he inched forwards to stand over Dirk’s body.
Belwynn rushed forward to help and grabbed Dirk under the arms, trying to hoist him further up the mound. She was soon joined by Soren and Elana, and between them they pulled the priest away to relative safety.
Elana began tending to Dirk, but it was clear to Belwynn that he was in a bad way. Can’t you use your defence spell again? she pleaded to her brother as she watched Rabigar slowly being forced backwards by the vossi. The vossi had found themselves a weakness in the mound’s defences, and although they rightly feared Rabigar’s whirring blade, they also knew it was only a matter of time before they pulled him down.
I’ll use it if I have to, Soren replied, but it will run out eventually and then I’ll have nothing left.
‘Then think of something!’ Belwynn screamed aloud at her brother, before drawing her sword and rushing down the mound to help Rabigar. Belwynn immediately regretted her words: she shouldn’t have handed all the responsibility over to Soren. They were all in this mess together, and shouting at each other wasn’t going to help—only cause panic. There was no time to apologise, however, as Belwynn gingerly entered the melee, prodding and then thrusting at the vossi, causing them to back off a little and giving Rabigar some time and space to regain a measure of control over the situation.
There was little the Krykker could do against such numbers, however, and Belwynn soon realised that one false move could result in a death blow from the vossi. As they swung and shoved their weapons towards her Belwynn was forced to retreat back up the mound, and Rabigar went with her, standing shoulder to shoulder. It seemed painfully obvious to Belwynn that the vossi could easily move around the mound and climb it from the other side, thereby surrounding the nine remaining defenders, but the vossi seemed too intent on striking at the nearest enemy to consider that.
As she was forced to give more ground, Belwynn took a quick look around. She was now almost above Herin’s position on the mound and the vossi would soon be able to attack him from the side. Belwynn realised that such an attack would spell the end of Herin’s defensive ring, and she resolved to stand her ground and not give the vossi a further inch. Another quick look behind her and she saw that Kaved and Moneva were also being forced to give ground to the vossi, though they were not yet in quite so perilous a position. As she turned back, Belwynn was quick enough to see that one of the vossi had decided to end the deadlock.
It charged straight up the mound, heading for Belwynn. The whole attack lasted seconds, but for Belwynn it happened in slow motion: he vossi leapt towards her, spear held in front and aimed for her heart. Belwynn’s body seemed to react to the threat independently of her mind, primeval instinct taking over. Gripping the sword so that it angled downwards towards the tip, just as Clarin had made her grip it time after time until it was second nature, Belwynn took a stride with her left leg down the slope and knelt down on her right knee whilst, in the same movement, extending her sword forwards. The vossi’s spear passed harmlessly overhead, while its charge propelled it onto her blade, the sword slipping easily into its guts. Its momen
tum nearly knocked her over, but she had the strength to keep her kneeling position, shoving the creature onto the ground in front of her, its weapon dropping from its lifeless hand.
Belwynn wrenched at her own blade, which had become embedded deep into her attacker. It came free, bringing with it the stinking entrails of the slain vossi, but not quickly enough.
One of the vossi had followed up the attack and now dove towards Belwynn, its face contorted into a vicious snarl. Belwynn thought it must be too far away to reach her, but as it threw itself to the ground the vossi stabbed a knife into her foot.
The impact and pain of the injury threw her into a state of shock. It felt as though the knife had torn right through her foot and impaled her onto the mound. Belwynn looked up into the eyes of the vossi, its hand still gripping the handle of the knife with all its might.
Suddenly, from the corner of her right eye, Belwynn detected movement. Her stomach contracted with fear, but she forced herself to turn her head around to face what she expected to be her killer. Instead all Belwynn saw was a blur streaking past her.
She followed its direction and saw Herin slamming his sword downwards into the prostrate vossi, then clashing one-handed with another vossi while his other hand felt at her foot. Herin removed the knife and then danced backwards, grabbing her around the chest and hurling her further up the mound. She looked up to see Clarin retreating up the mound towards her as he covered Herin’s move. This in turn forced Gyrmund to do the same, and as Belwynn scrambled backwards everyone seemed to follow her, forming a tighter and tighter semi-circle.
Then, behind her, Belwynn heard an almighty scream, the scream of a vossi, yet so loud it didn’t seem possible that it could belong to a single voice. Belwynn didn’t feel like she could face any more, but she turned around and looked up to the centre of the mound where Soren was.
Or, at least, where Soren had been.
Soren, Elana and Dirk had now been replaced by a swirling distortion of light, a gaseous substance which seemed to be taking shape whilst emitting the enormous sound.
The shadowy form slowly came to resemble a face, vossi-like in its features, but with burning green eyes and a mouth that, as it opened and closed, let out a scream that must have been heard throughout the Wilderness. Belwynn could now make out what must be words in the vossi language, and she turned around to see what effect the apparition was having on their enemies.
The vossi had stopped their attack on the defenders and were staring up at the face, worry lines creasing their faces, occasional exchanged glances or words passing between them. Clarin and the others looked unsure how to react, nervously looking over their shoulders but keeping an eye on the vossi in case their attention was drawn back to the fight. The vossi were now in a state of confusion, but their leaders began to rally their soldiers, shouting in their faces, hitting them and forcing them to renew their advance on the mound.
Just as this seemed to be working, the noise from behind Belwynn got louder, so loud that it hurt her ears, and she was forced to drop her sword and cover them with her hands. The vossi began to do the same and started to back away from the mound.
Then, a beam of light seemed to shine out from the apparition on the mound and strike the vossi warrior standing closest to Clarin.
For a moment, the figure of the vossi was lit up like a beacon, and then flames erupted from his clothing. The vossi struggled in the flames, writhing in agony, and Belwynn caught the smell of burning flesh in her nostrils. Those surrounding the vossi torch, a look of terror in their eyes, turned and ran from the sight. They briefly met some resistance from their leaders, desperately trying to stop the rout, before every vossi warrior turned their back on the mound and ran, in every direction, into the forest.
As floods of relief overcame Belwynn she turned around once more to look up at the mound. The image of the vossi face before her was now dissolving, and behind it she could make out the figure of Soren.
He was stood facing her, arms outstretched, veins standing out, eyes rolling up into his head in convulsion with a visible streak of blood running from his nostrils.
As the last vestiges of the image disappeared, the convulsions stopped, and he collapsed onto the ground.
IX
Afflictions
Belwynn gave her foot one final look, marvelling at the scarred tissue that, moments before, had been a gaping wound. She shoved her shoe back on. Elana had dealt with all the injuries. She looked exhausted from the healing she had carried out. But two problems remained.
‘They shouldn’t be moved,’ Elana informed Herin in a tired voice. ‘It could cause permanent damage.’
Herin grimaced. Both Soren and Dirk lay unconscious. Soren had not woken since he had collapsed on the ground after the vossi had fled. Dirk had been awake at first, but in agony, crying out in pain: mostly unintelligible, mixed in with pleas for help. He asked for help from the gods, from his mother but, interestingly, not from Toric. After Elana had treated him, he had grown calmer and fallen asleep. Belwynn would have been quite happy to risk Dirk’s health, since the priest had been of little help so far, and she knew that Herin was thinking the same thing. The vossi had gone, but no-one knew if or when they would return.
Belwynn’s own injury was not too serious, though it would still give pain every time she put any weight on it. None of the others had sustained any serious injuries, but they were all itching to get moving away from the bloody mound. The fact that Soren, who had probably just saved everyone’s lives, was now seriously ill kept them from departing the scene.
‘We’re going to have to build stretchers,’ said Rabigar. ‘We’ll be able to move them a fair distance before nightfall. Then we can decide what to do in the morning.’
‘Agreed,’ said Belwynn quickly. She looked around at the group, but no-one disagreed with the plan, even if they wanted to.
‘Well, now that’s settled,’ said Kaved, ‘we’d better get a move on.’
The group wasted no more time as Rabigar and Kaved began hacking off adequately-sized branches from the trees around the mound. Belwynn and Moneva picked up branches lying around the forest floor and collected those obtained by the Krykkers, bringing them to the centre of the mound, where Herin, Clarin and Gyrmund set about lashing them together to make platforms strong enough to carry the weight of the two men.
They worked quickly, and before long they were gingerly lifting the wizard and the priest onto the stretchers.
‘How ill do you think he is?’ Belwynn asked Elana.
The priestess pursed her lips. ‘I don’t know. His affliction seems to be more of the mind than of the body, and the powers that Madria has bestowed on me are not as effective in healing it.’
Belwynn nodded. ‘I think the magic that he used on the mound was too great for him to control; he put too much into it. What with the magic he used to get us to the river as well...I don’t think he had any energy left.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like that before,’ said Kaved, with apparent sincerity in his voice. ‘I didn’t think people could do that...’
Belwynn guessed that was the closest the Krykker ever came to saying thank you, and she smiled in recognition. The truth was, she hadn’t seen Soren do anything like that before, either. It was a different kind of magic, different from what he had learned from Ealdnoth. It was witch magic.
Gyrmund led the group off in a north-easterly direction while Herin and Clarin carried Soren’s stretcher and Rabigar and Kaved carried Dirk. It was very slow going, especially because everyone was so exhausted from the combat on the mound. The adrenaline from the fight had left Belwynn’s body, and she felt empty and drained. By nightfall, however, they had covered enough ground to feel that they were a safe distance from the bloody scene, and with very little conversation tried to make themselves comfortable on the forest floor. Belwynn lay next to her
brother’s prone body, still breathing, but dead to the world.
Eventually she fell asleep.
Prince Edgar was sitting in his tent with Ealdnoth, his court wizard, and his two bodyguards, Leofwin and Brictwin. They were awaiting the arrival of Wilchard, Edgar’s chief steward, with the Cordentine ambassador.
The wait gave Edgar time to contemplate his plans. It had been two days since the attack on Toric’s Temple, and he had been busy. The potential threat to the kingdom had led Edgar to raise an army, and he had issued orders to all those in the land who had a duty to provide their prince with soldiers. Not all of those who had been ordered to had yet provided men, and this meant that Edgar would be able to issue fines or even confiscate the land of those who had failed in their duty. In any event, a threat had not materialised, but Edgar knew that it was a foolish ruler who, once he had an army at his disposal, did nothing with it.
Edgar was aware that, with no enemy, he could not hold the army together for long. Men such as Otha of Rystham were already letting their suspicions about Edgar’s motives be known. So far, he had spun them along with some vague pronouncements about the robbers of Toric’s Dagger having possibly come from North Magnia. Mention of the kingdom’s bitter enemies had been enough to keep his nobles relatively happy with their Prince. The army had marched northwards all day yesterday, albeit at a leisurely pace, and Edgar had let the rumours of a confrontation with North Magnia grow. Aware that he was playing a delicate game, the Prince of South Magnia was not yet ready to show his hand.
Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga Page 11
