By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles)

by Houpt, David

  How much power do you have? Lian asked Gem. We may need some counterspells.

  Not much at all, son, she replied. I can possibly interfere with a few spells, nothing more. The admission betrayed to Lian the gravity of his mentor’s state, for she had been forged with particular emphasis on defense from hostile magics. At full capacity, she was able to unweave magics literally all day.

  He swallowed his panic at this revelation, then loosened up his shoulders and legs as much as he could, truly frightened at her admission.

  “Zu e ni vala, li dor?” asked Snog softly in Govlikel. Are you all right, my lord?

  He nodded in reply after Gem translated for him. “Just nervous, Snog.”

  “Heh. I can imagine, son,” Saul said. “It’s not every day one draws the attention of an Undead the likes of this Temvri. The only advice I can offer is to trust in your gods to see you through, and that things will unfold as they were intended.”

  At that moment, the clearing palpably chilled, as the aura of the knight reached out to cast a pall over the nighttime sky. Without further warning, the brush parted, and the chainmail-clad Undead strode purposefully from the cover. At his shoulders was a pair of wraiths, to all appearances sake identical to the two Lian had encountered in Firavon’s Tower.

  The knight’s hollow voice boomed across the distance, carrying easily to the warriors’ ears. “You should have kept moving, boy,” it intoned flatly. “You might have bought yourself a few more days.”

  Lian didn’t reply, but Saul did, letting fly with his arrow. It flew in an almost flat trajectory, and struck the knight squarely in the chest. There was a massive silver shower of sparks, and Temvri actually stopped momentarily.

  Powerful bow indeed, Gem observed.

  Saul drew forth a second arrow, twin to the first, but the wraiths weren’t going to allow a repeat of the first strike. With the swiftness possessed only by the incorporeal Dead, they crossed the distance before Saul could fire again. Teg and Lian readied their weapons to defend the ranger, but were shocked when the wraiths suddenly halted, twenty feet away from them, as if they suddenly sensed something.

  Saul fired again, ignoring the wraiths. His second arrow flew as accurately as the first one had, but this time it encountered some kind of barrier before reaching the knight, and dissolved in an even more impressive shower of sparks. When the remaining shards of light struck the knight, it staggered, but this time didn’t halt its advance.

  As Saul fired, Teg stepped forward, swinging his club at full extension. The wraith he targeted attempted to dodge the blow, but the unexpected swiftness of the ogre’s motion caught it while its attention was diverted. The club flared deep red as it struck true, and the wraith’s form was completely obliterated.

  Lian moved to support Teg, but the ogre and the remaining wraith were both too high for him to be effective. The wraith dodged the ogre’s follow-through nimbly, and reached its arms out hungrily toward Teg.

  Before it was able to make contact, a dagger from the region of Teg’s knees tore through the wraith’s side, then flew on to land somewhere in the darkness. The goblin scout screamed a Govlikel battle cry and rolled quickly away from the ogre. The strike, while not decisive, caused the wraith to hesitate, and thus allowed Teg to regain his balance.

  The ogre and the wraith began a carefully choreographed dance, the wraith flitting gracefully beyond the club’s reach, as Teg smoothly kept himself faced toward the dangerous specter.

  Saul drew another arrow, this one tipped with mundane steel. He let fly, but the arrow shattered before it approached within ten feet of the knight. “That’s the last of that tactic,” pronounced the ranger, drawing his sword. The blade had deep blood runnels along most of its length, and was carved with powerful runes.

  The knight had closed half the distance and was rapidly approaching, and Lian turned to Snog. “If you saw where the dagger went, go get it. If not, join the animals and strike the ghouls and the A’kra Vilshari.”

  The scout nodded. “I’ll never find it in time to do any good, so I’ll support the beasts.”

  “Good throw, by the way,” Lian added approvingly, handing his crossbow to his henchman. “It’s yours after the fight, if we live.”

  The goblin’s grin widened as he accepted the extra crossbow and fell back. Assessing the slopes at the foot of the promontory, he said, “If they brought bowmen, they’ll take that rise and try to get a good line of fire on us.”

  “If that happens, we withdraw into the city proper, and try to keep hard cover between us and the archers,” Saul said. “Even with the walls breached, the castle is the best defense to be had, so head there.

  “Teg! You all right?” he called to the ogre, who had maneuvered about five yards further from them in his deadly minuet with the wraith.

  “I is fine, Saul,” Teg answered. “He just think I is stupid!”

  The knight was now a mere twenty feet away, and it paused a half-step, almost as the wraiths had. Continuing its advance, directly toward Lian, it announced, “This lies between the boy and me. Stand thee aside.” It made no promise that it would leave the others unharmed.

  “Not on my land, ciònel,” Saul replied. “You want him, you go through me.”

  The grinning death’s head, now within arm’s reach, nodded and said, “So mote it be,” and immediately launched into a furious attack on the two warriors. Lian abruptly found himself hard pressed to merely parry the knight’s ferocious blows, and without opportunity to riposte. Saul, too, though he was proving a skilled swordsman, was unable to counterstrike the Undead’s lightning blows.

  The deathly cold of the knight’s aura chilled Lian to the bone, penetrating both cloak and armor as if they didn’t exist. That cold’s going to slow me down sooner or later, he said to Gem, who replied by singing a few clear notes, as song which reminded Lian of springtime.

  The biting cold instantly abated, and the knight growled in annoyance. Gem said, I couldn’t cover Saul; I just don’t have the strength. Despite the literally bone-chilling cold, Saul fought on seemingly unaffected. The ranger also did not flinch at the spell emanating from Gem.

  The two warriors desperately sought an opening, but the knight wouldn’t allow one, pressing its attack until they had been forced more than twenty yards from Teg’s struggle with the wraith. One of the wolves, a large black male, suddenly broke away from the others and raced toward the knight. It struck the frigid zone but didn’t hesitate as it leapt for the knight’s throat. The knight took advantage of the momentum of its current strike to slash the wolf across the throat, killing it instantly, but the animal’s body continued on its course, crashing into the Undead’s chest, burying the knight’s blade deep into the lifeless body.

  It took the knight only a moment to free the blade and regain its footing, but it was enough time for Lian and Saul to simultaneously strike it with powerful blows. Both of their weapons were enchanted, and they sliced long gouges in the Undead’s chainmail.

  Temvri immediately regained the offensive, but his strikes were noticeably slower and less accurate, and Lian sought to take advantage of an opening. This opportunity proved to be a feint, for the knight regained his former quickness and closed its left hand on Lian’s arm. Saul, however, had read the motion correctly, and took a slash across his leg from the knight’s sword in order to neatly cleave Temvri’s hand from its arm.

  Lian pulled back for a moment, using Gem to pry the skeletal hand from his arm, but it was already crumbling to dust.

  “You’ll pay for that, blood-drinker,” Temvri said. “I’ll have your hand to replace it.”

  Saul limped backward, parrying desperately, and Lian returned to the press. He didn’t have time to consider the implications of Temvri’s statement, and Temvri seemed unhindered by the loss of its hand. Saul growled, “You’ll have nothing, ciònel, save an ending.” For the second time, Saul had uttered a word which neither Gem nor Lian could translate.

  All three warriors w
ere more careful now, but Lian was well aware that the knight would win in a battle of attrition. He wasn’t suffering from fatigue yet, possibly due to Lord Grey’s potion, but he knew he couldn’t depend on it to last indefinitely, nor would his attention. He would eventually make a mistake that would prove to be lethal.

  Snog shouted from his sentry position away from either fight, “Movement on the ridge! We’ll have enemy bolts flying soon!”

  Saul began chanting as he swung his blade, and Gem commented, Battle magics. Our mysterious friend is a sorcerer.

  Temvri attacked Saul in earnest, shifting its attention from the prince. Mistake, Lian thought in elation, and took advantage of the knight’s preoccupation to land a few blows on its swordarm. These didn’t penetrate, but they did interfere with Temvri’s attacks.

  As soon as Saul completed his spell, his left arm was suddenly covered with a shimmering shield of golden light. Where Temvri’s black-bladed sword struck the shield, there was a renewed shower of sparks, which had no effect on Lian when they showered on him. Temvri’s reaction to them, however, was one of intense pain.

  This afforded Saul better protection from the Undead’s attacks, and he was able to begin landing his own ferocious blows. With each strike of the ranger’s runesword, links of the chainmail were severed, until the armor of the Undead hung useless, more hindrance than protection.

  Lian and Saul were both landing more effective strikes, but Temvri still managed to slash Lian across the shoulder and chest. He felt the cold bite of the knight’s black sword, and knew that his scale armor had been pierced. At the same moment, however, he managed to sever one of his opponent’s legs, tumbling Temvri to the ground.

  Saul moved fast, and leapt in to sever Temvri’s head at the shoulders. His sword didn’t appear to slow down at all as it sheared through mail and bone. A bloodcurdling scream of frustration and rage arose from the helmet as it flew through the air, abruptly cut short as Temvri’s consciousness faded.

  The wraith, having kept its attention on the battle as well as the ogre, now rose to a height a little over twice Teg’s. It seemed unsure of its next move, but the ogre quickly resolved its confusion.

  Teg gathered himself in a leap, and jumped higher than Lian’s head. At the same time, he swung the club in a wide arc that terminated on the wraith, and it vanished as swiftly as its companion had.

  “Who stupid now?” Teg demanded as he landed, the earth shaking slightly as he did so.

  “Not you, Teg,” Saul said, removing a small vial from his pouch and offering it to Lian. “You’d best stop that bleeding. This will do the job.”

  Lian eyed the ranger warily, but accepted the vial. His shoulder and chest ached with an acid pain where the knight’s foul blade had bitten him. He swallowed the contents, a rather pleasant blue color, and immediately felt welcome relief from the pain.

  The prince wasn’t concerned about the damage to his lashthirin armor, for the elven smith who crafted it had bound powerful mending magics into it. In a matter of minutes, the scales were rejoined, as strong as the day they were forged. It was, like Gem, a master work.

  Saul retrieved his bow from where it had fallen and nocked another steel-tipped arrow.

  “My thanks,” Lian said, reclasping his cloak where the sword blow had sliced it. Now’s not the time to ask what Temvri meant by “blood-drinker,” he thought to himself.

  Snog drew near again and said, “They’re spreadin’ out. They’ll be firin’ ta get the range. One’ll shoot high ‘n one’ll shoot low. The rest’ll fire in the middle, tryin’ fer a lucky shootin’.”

  “Can goblinish crossbows achieve that kind of range?” Lian asked incredulously, nodding toward the two bows the goblin carried.

  “The grunts don’ carry this kind o’ bow, milord,” the goblin replied. “Theirs is lighter, but got a lot more range. These things is fer short-range work.” Snog handed Lian’s captured crossbow back to him.

  “My bow has the advantage on range,” Saul said, “but I’m sure that they’ll have ground support moving in fast.”

  Snog said, “I don’ hear the rats nowhere, so the calvary’s out searchin’ fer us. They’ll be comin’ afoot, and the lads’ll be bone tired from forced marchin’.”

  “Rat calvary?” Saul asked, a slight smile on his lips. “That I’d like to see.”

  Snog said defensively, “They ain’t heavy horse, but they’ll hold their own.”

  “We can quibble later,” Lian said. “They’re firing.”

  The four of them watched the incoming quarrel flights, ranger, prince, and goblin each calculating flight paths as they flew. None of these initial bolts were going to strike near them, but they would land all around them. One fell right in front of a wolf, which let out a surprised yelp and jumped backward.

  “Good range indeed. We need to move,” Saul said, ignoring the sword wound on his leg and drawing them back toward the shelter of the buildings.

  Without warning, a gigantic streak of gold and white appeared from behind the promontory, dropping on the archers’ position without a sound. The sudden shriek of goblins being shredded and mauled was punctuated by a tremendous scream of rage and fury.

  “Gilaeshar!” Lian shouted at the top of his lungs. The gryphon had swept in behind the crossbowmen, and taken them completely by surprise. He apparently had timed his attack to begin immediately after they had launched their first volley.

  Now, he tore into the archers, ignoring the paltry infantry force that had been arrayed out of sight behind them. This second unit began advancing hesitantly to engage the gryphon, but their indecision was costing the lives of the goblin archers.

  I told you that I would find you again, Lian Evanson, the gryphon’s powerful voice sounded in his head, the glee in the carnage it was wreaking nearly overwhelming in its ferocity. The gryphon closed the mindlink, so as not to drown Lian in its rage.

  “I hope that’s a friend,” Saul commented as he observed the devastation in amazement. In less than twenty seconds, Gilaeshar had slaughtered ten of the archers, and the half that remained abandoned their crossbows in an attempt to fend off the monster with their daggers. The gryphon’s beak and talons cut and slashed and ripped mercilessly, tearing goblins into bloody pieces without apparent effort.

  Movement behind the archers’ line revealed that the infantry on the ridge was retreating in disarray. Lian didn’t really blame them for retreating from the massacre.

  “He is,” Lian said in answer to Saul’s statement.

  Ignoring the blood bath taking place on the ridge, or perhaps unaware of it from their position at the forest edge, another force of goblin infantry emerged from the trees. Armed with throwing axes as well as their usual sharp knives, they were still too far out of range to be a threat yet. That would change quickly, and as they came into view, their numbers were revealed to be about sixty.

  A stream of filthy human and goblin forms streamed from the woods to the goblins’ left. They hissed and gibbered madly, and Lian and Saul said, “Ghouls,” simultaneously.

  Among the least of the true Undead, ghouls could only be killed by means of hacking them apart, and any strike to their vital organs wouldn’t really hurt them. They could also be slain by decapitation, a common method of dispatch for Undead in general. A few charms existed to keep them at bay, but Gem didn’t have time to weave any of the ones she knew, for those were intended to be prepared long before the actual meeting.

  Saul said with a distracted expression, “I’ve located your calvary. They’re on the other side of the peak, along with a large army of skeletons. They’ll be deployed near the castle before we can reach it, I think.”

  While they were assessing the situation, a pair of trees in front of them cracked and splintered. When the sharp report had died away, and the resultant shards had settled, a man-sized figure in voluminous black robes stood straddling the two trunks. At his side hung a cage of polished silver on a heavy chain, and within it lay a blackened, anc
ient skull.

  Lord Grey, Lian thought in dismay to Gem.

  “It’s the boy I want!” thundered the deep and resonant, magically amplified voice of the necromancer Lyrial. “The rest of you may go in peace!”

  A goblin in a uniform similar to Snog broke from the far right flank to run toward Lyrial. Snog pointed to him and said, “Can you hit the runnin’ one from here, ranger?”

  Saul replied by quickly drawing and firing his bow in one smooth motion. Long before the scout neared Lyrial, the arrow struck him in the side of his chest. The goblin fell silently, both lungs pierced, and the infantrymen near him shied away.

  “Why did I kill that one?” Saul asked dryly.

  “’Cause he seen the gryphon, ‘n I didn’t want the black robe knowin’,” Snog answered, picking at a stubborn piece of rabbit meat in his teeth, and feigning disinterest.

  “Good reason,” said Lian, glancing at the hillock. The few remaining goblins were in rout, fleeing the blood-soaked monster in several different directions. The gryphon didn’t seem amenable, however, to allowing a single one of his former tormentors to escape, and was pursuing them with a vengeance. Lian didn’t think the pursuit would last long, given the speed and viciousness of the gryphon.

  “An’ he was a right bastard who should’ve had his throat slit years ago,” Snog finished with satisfaction.

  Lyrial, who had watched the arrow’s flight dispassionately, now turned away from the goblin scout’s death. His voice boomed across the distance between the groups. “Then you have given your answer, and your answer will bring you death!”

  The necromancer gestured with his left hand. It was as if an invisible rope restraining the ghouls had been cut, for they immediately surged forward en masse. The goblins joined the advance, a drummer in the back rank beating a steady rhythm. With their generally shorter legs, and the cumulative exhaustion of a long, forced march, they lagged behind the tide of ghouls.

  At a signal from Saul, the wolves streamed forward in their own charge, eleven animals strong. Snarl lumbered after them, growling as he ran. Lian, Snog, and Saul each selected targets among the ghouls, aiming high in the hopes of striking the spine or head. Teg reached down and picked up a pair of small boulders from the untilled ground, then casually tossed one the size of a watermelon into the mob of ghouls, smashing two of them to the ground. Neither one got back up.