“My lord, the frontlines are faring well against the Allesmeadeans. My men will deploy their cavalry divisions deeper into their lines, and we should be able to overwhelm them within the hour,” Rainier reported confidently.
Silas frowned. “Let’s not call the battle before it’s over, Rainier. We have no idea what Brandewulf’s planned. Plus there are the catapults at the rear to take care of,” he said.
The last time he and Rainier had fought together was months prior, in Ithileo. The former captain had suffered a horrible disfigurement from the dragonfire that burned the left part of his face. Although his visage would never be the same, the man thrust himself back into action, and Silas’ father advanced his rank to that of general. Silas could not have chosen a more worthy knight for the job. Even if one existed among the nobility, none had the battle experience to match Rainier’s.
“The catapults will be seen to, my lord. I’ve ordered the auxiliary divisions to attack the siege lines just as soon as their defensive lines break. Those stones will not be hurled within a hundred feet of Gilead Palace,” Rainier replied.
“Where are the auxiliary lines?” Silas asked. He looked to the east, where the two hundred riders and men-at-arms were waiting under the cover of a tree line. But he couldn’t see their standards.
“They were there just a moment ago. I swear I saw them!” Lord Berkley, one of Aldron’s nobles, said.
Rainier surveyed the area with his spyglass. HIs face drained of color as he passed the spyglass to the king. Silas took the device, searching the conifers for signs of his men. Then he saw it. A group of banners emerging from the trees, but the standards were not of Aldron. The blue and white flags were replaced by red flags with a black symbol of a ship’s anchor. The standard belonged to Tarshish—the city under Felix Gryn’s governance.
“Is that Tarshish? Have they come to our aid?” another knight asked.
“No,” Silas said grimly. He knew of Gryn’s close association with Brandewulf and Allesmeade. The governor’s corrupt dealings were well-known in Azuleah, but Alfryd had believed Gryn was loyal to the crown. Silas always knew better. Ever since the two men fought together in Neroterra, Silas suspected Gryn was up to something nefarious. He never expected it might be treason.
“They’ve taken out our auxiliary troops. I estimate there’s over a thousand strong down there,” Rainier said, trying to keep his voice even.
The combined numbers of Allesmeade’s army and Tarshish would put the Aldronians at a disadvantage. Silas did not wish to underestimate his army, but he knew the odds would be against them. From the position that Gryn’s forces were entering the battlefield, they planned to pin his army on each side. They’d have to fall back to avoid being overwhelmed, but that would place their enemy dangerously close to Aldron. Although he had a reserve garrison inside the city, he couldn’t allow it to be sieged. His people had already suffered enough devastation from the dragon attack. The fight needed to be won here in the open.
“Brace your saddles, men. We’re in for a tough fight,” Silas said. He turned to Rainier. “Give the call to fall back. We’ll rally our force, then hit them with everything we’ve got.”
Rainier nodded. “Shall we move our party’s position as well, my lord?”
“No, Rainier. We’re going to join the men down there,” Silas said firmly. “And I plan to kill Felix Gryn before the day is over.”
CHAPTER 34
SHATTERED ALLIANCES
Lucius narrowly escaped the barrage of arrows that the pursuing elves launched his way. Once the rebels regained control of their remaining ballistae, they cared little for a single warrior riding off toward their supply lines. After all, the supply lines were heavily guarded and far removed from the rest of the forces on the field. For all intents and purposes, Lucius was on a suicide mission to rescue his friends. And yet, he felt a sense of calm about the whole thing. Somewhere deep in his conscious mind, he knew this was exactly where he needed to be.
It didn’t take long for the elves guarding the supply train to spot him. The first round of arrows flew toward him. He steered Penna on a staggering course to avoid the projectiles. For a moment, he avoided being struck by any of the long green arrows. But he was quickly reminded of the elves’ pinpoint accuracy when the second round of arrows flew. Riding in a zigzag pattern, he felt a sting to his right shin and then another at his left shoulder. Pain spread from both spots. He struggled to keep his body on the saddle as more arrows fired. Ducking lower onto the saddle, Lucius nudged Penna to increase her speed.
Ahead, he saw Avani and Violet staring at their approaching rescuer. Recognition appeared on the Avani’s face.
Beside her, one of her captors nocked an arrow and aimed carefully at Lucius. Before the arrow released, Avani kicked the elf in the head and sent him sprawling onto the snow. Enraged at the blow, the elf stood up and backhanded the princess viciously, causing her to fall off the saddle. Her arms hung above her head, still tied to the pommel of the saddle.
Lucius gritted his teeth, riding harder toward the haughty warrior.
When Penna came within five feet of the elf, Lucius leaped off the saddle with his blade drawn. The elf could not fire at him before the impact came.
Lucius’ weight crashed onto the warrior, and the point of the sword pierced through the warrior’s chest. Around him, elves raced to their location. Their strikes came quickly and elegantly. Lucius blocked and parried the blows, struggling to match the elves’ speed.
He sensed more of the supply train defenders were approaching to see the commotion.
“Cut me loose, Lucius!” Avani yelled beside him. She was on her feet now, tugging hopelessly at the bonds that kept her by the pack mule.
“I’m a little busy, Avani,” Lucius replied, gasping the words between sword strokes.
“Block the one on your left then turn and cut,” she commanded.
The instruction was ridiculous, but he did it, trusting her judgment. After a quick block from an attacker on his left, he turned on his heel and cut the air. The blade sliced through the rope on the pommel that Avani held taut for him.
She staggered backward, then picked up the fallen elf’s bow and nocked an arrow from his quiver. The arrow she released struck down a warrior on Lucius’ right. Lucius parried another blow, then flicked his wrist to send his blade upward at the nearest attacker. But before the blade connected, another arrow struck that attacker down too. The last one hesitated for a moment, choosing whether to attack Lucius or Avani. His indecision cost him life as Lucius unleashed a quartet of swipes that ended with a deep cut across the elf’s torso.
“Excellent work with that bow,” Lucius said, breathing raggedly. He stumbled a bit as the adrenaline in his body waned and the pain in his wounds resurfaced.
“You’re hurt! We need to get you far from here,” Avani said. She ran over to Violet, who watched, wide-eyed at the entire skirmish. After cutting the woman’s bonds, Avani looked around her to see more of the supply train defenders were about to surround them.
Lucius grabbed Penna’s reins and made an attempt to climb the saddle, but the arrow in his shin forced him to reconsider the move. He grasped the shaft, then took a deep breath before tugging it out. An explosion of pain ran up his leg and he screamed.
“Lucius! Are you insane? Let me look at you,” Violet scolded, running to check his wounds.
Lucius winced. “We need to move; we’re about to be—”
“Too late,” Avani said with a heavy sigh.
A dozen elves swarmed around them, bowstrings drawn and aimed at each of them.
“You’re not going anywhere, your Highness,” one of the elves said indignantly. He was a well-built warrior with a hawkish nose and almond-shaped eyes revealing a deep-rooted hatred.
“Lanor. Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Avani said, frowning. “Were there no more dishonorable posts among the infantry to take?”
Lanor smirked, then reared back and slapped Av
ani with the back of his hand. Lucius moved to strike Lanor for the action, but Violet restrained him when the other elves increased the draw on their bows.
“I have been looking forward to that for so long, your Majesty,” Lanor said in a sardonic tone. He turned to Lucius. “And you. What kind of foolish boy dares challenge Numa?”
“You’re not Numa. You are all brigands and rebels with childish claims,” Lucius said through gritted teeth.
Lanor laughed. “You truly are ignorant, boy,” he replied. Then he waved a hand at one of his subordinates. “Kill him, and the woman too. Tie the princess to the back of that mule. We still need her for the ransom.”
“Wait! Please, you can receive a ransom for them too. They are loyal to me, and my father will pay whatever is asked,” Avani pleaded. Lucius noticed her lip swelling from the bruise she’d received. It angered him that he’d come so close to saving her and Violet, only to be foiled by these arrogant elves.
“If it were up to me, I would keep them alive, but your brothers only care for you to live. You are right about one thing though. Your father will pay,” Lanor said, smirking.
Two elves nearest to Lucius and Violet grabbed them by the shoulders, steering them away from the horses.
In the distance, Lucius saw the main battle raging on between the rebels and Aldron. He couldn’t tell which side was winning, but he berated himself for not getting the job done here.
The two elves pushed them onto the snowy ground. More laughter came from the others watching their impending execution with keen interest. He heard a bow being nocked along with the soft cries of Violet beside her. Death had no hold on him right then, but despair for his friends weighed heavily on his heart. He’d failed them.
An unexpected noise roused him from his guilt. A soft hiss followed by a thunk had come from behind him. The loud thud of two bodies falling onto the snow alarmed him. He craned his neck to look from his prostate position. Their executioners were dead on the ground. Green arrows stuck out from their chests.
Lanor screamed an order at his troops, but Lucius could not make it out. More arrows struck the elves who were now retreating. Did the rebels turn on each other?
Instinctively, he worried over Avani and whether or not she’d been struck. He checked Violet, who cowered in the snow, holding her arms over her head defensively. He shook her, and when she looked up, he pointed at the fallen elves. Lucius helped her up, and they wheeled around to find Avani taking cover near Violet’s horse, Homer. The princess held a bow in her hand once more as she glanced around the horse.
“Come on, let’s get out of here and let them kill each other,” Lucius said.
“What are you talking about?” Avani asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The rebels. They’ve turned on each other,” he said, gesturing to the fallen elves around him with arrows in them.
“It’s not the rebels. My father has come. Look at the standards,” Avani said, pointing to the north.
A group of riders shooting arrows at the fleeing rebels rode into the battlefield. They carried the green banners of the House of Rubiwind.
Help from Numa had arrived.
*
“Fire at their siegeworks!” Rainier yelled the order to the forty longbowmen positioned on the outskirts of the battlefield.
Silas watched as the third volley was sent hurtling toward the band of trebuchets slowly moving up the hill. Arrows found their targets: the siege operators. If the trebuchets reached another fifty yards north, they’d be in position to topple Aldron’s fortifications.
Ahead of the trebuchet, a pitched battle raged on between Silas’ men and the forces of Tarshish and Allesmeade. The last two hours had seen them losing ground in the fight. He wanted to avoid falling back inside the city walls. The siege would last weeks, and his people would not survive. If it were summer, they might withstand the siege, but in these winter months their resolve would break.
Gryn’s forces were attacking the east flank now, where Silas’ cavalry divisions fought hard to keep the line strong. The governor’s tactics were predictable, but effective. Quick, concentrated strikes on the line with cavalry bolstered by archer fire. After the initial attack, the cavalry retreated, giving way to an infantry charge on the battered defense. The cycle repeated itself all along the flank, and their defenses were weakening.
Allesmeade was more straightforward with their attacks on the frontline. The warriors of Allesmeade were plain folk who liked to keep their battles simple, but brutal. They pushed Silas’ forces hard with a ferocious offense that consisted of heavily armed swordsmen and pikemen. However, their cavalry was weak and uncoordinated. They attempted to break the west flank just like Gryn, but they could not withstand Rainier’s archers. Every time the cavalry came close, a swift volley made quick work of the Allesmeade horsemen. Silas knew Gryn was attempting to coordinate a pincer attack to overwhelm his forces on each side, but Allesmeade’s military leadership was not equipped for the task. Silas thanked Yéwa for that.
“Rainier, order a volley on Gryn’s riders and give our flank a respite,” Silas commanded.
The general nodded then shouted the order. All forty archers moved in a coordinated turn to their left, drew their bows as one, and fired.
The results were satisfying. A dozen riders fell from their saddles, and a good number of infantrymen crumpled in the snow.
After a few minutes, Gryn’s riders were on the attack again, but this time they synchronized their attack with the trebuchets. Large stones were hurled from the siege engines onto Aldron’s flanks. The outcome devastated the infantry lines, creating a gap for Gryn’s riders to attack.
“We need to take out those trebuchets, Rainier,” Silas said, whirling his horse around to face his general.
“I know, my lord. The archers will fire on their positions,” Rainier said.
“Not good enough. I’m sending the Royal Guard to engage,” Silas said.
The war party consisted of the two dozen knights on horseback who pledged to defend the king and his staff. They were currently guarding Silas’ position several feet from the hill they stood upon. Occasionally, the horsemen would provide support to the main force if they were close enough to the fight, but traditionally they would not stray far from their king.
“My lord, the guardsmen are tasked with defending your life—”
“Send them out, Rainier,” Silas ordered, his face stern and unflinching.
Rainier nodded reluctantly, then relayed the order. The knights, ever loyal, set out without any hesitation. Now Silas only had Rainier and a few members of his cabinet nearest to him. He considered leading a charge against Gryn’s position several hundred feet away. If he could bring down the governor, morale would be significantly reduced on his enemy’s side.
The Tarshish noble had taken active command of both his troops and Allesmeade. From his spyglass, Silas saw the man, clad in a black surcoat with heavy chainmail, sending envoys to the Allesmeade general. The general was clearly incompetent since he had failed to break Aldron’s defenses and lost a good amount of men in his weak attacks. However, the trebuchets were giving them a decisive advantage, and as Silas saw it, Aldron and Allesmeade would be at a stalemate if not for the successes of Gryn’s forces.
“Gryn is sending a party against the Royal Guard, my lord,” Rainier said.
“I see them. Is he leading them?” Silas asked.
“It looks that way, sire,” Rainier replied.
Silas’ mind raced. This might be his only opportunity to engage the governor and possibly cripple his command of the field. But Rainier would disapprove of the move. What was it he always said? “Better to lose a thousand men than a single king.” He couldn’t disagree more, but he respected the sentiment.
“I’m going to meet him on the field,” Silas said to no one in particular.
Rainier’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to argue, but Silas lifted a hand to silence him. “No arguments, Rainier. You are to com
mand Aldron in my stead while I go send this usurper back to the rathole he came from, is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The king rallied the remaining knights from his court, and they charged into the battle.
*
Violet wrapped a thick piece of linen around Lucius’ shoulder where the arrow had pierced him. He sat on the ground, watching the elves of Numa attack their rebellious brethren on the battlefield alongside Aldron. Blaise and the Drachengarde hemmed in the twins and the contingent on their left flank while the others attacked the right. The ballistae were overrun and no longer a threat. Soon the battle would be won and Brandewulf’s ambitious plot ruined.
Avani stood nearby, speaking to a field commander of the Numan loyalists named Orwin. Lucius tried to listen to their conversation, but Violet kept asking him questions about his wounds. “Is that too tight? Are you in much pain?” she asked like a mother hen tending to her hurt chick.
“It’s fine, Violet, really. I’ve been in worse condition,” he said. He stood up abruptly and favored his right side where the other arrow had struck his thigh. Violet had bandaged there too, but now she looked anxiously at her handiwork. “Really, you don’t need to go to anymore trouble for me,” he said with a bit more exasperation in his voice than he intended.
“It’s settled then. I’ll join the other riders and attack their position,” Avani said to Orwin.
“Attack who?” Lucius asked loud enough so they could hear him.
“My brothers. They’re in the center lines, and I need to face them before more blood is shed,” Avani said.
“I’ll go with you,” Lucius replied.
“No,” Avani said. Her face was stern, but it softened at his questioning look. “You have another person to deal with. Brandewulf. He has the sword, and he’s going to escape from the battle.”
“What? How do you know that?” he asked.
Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2) Page 34
