Destruction of a God
By
I.K. Bartlett
Advance to Contact
For nearly a week, Ramilo and his forces had scoured the city for any sign of the silver-armoured enemy – they were all gone. Bazil and Jayla were still no better, but control of Velumia was back in the right hands. The silver-armoured army was gone and the mercenaries who had been guarding the city for them had fled.
Artir, the crown Prince, had sunk into a catatonic stupor; he simply sat in a chair facing his window - seemingly oblivious to everything around. No matter how many times Ramilo had tried to question him, he never even blinked – not even when he sent Manil in to scare him. He was determined to get some intelligence on the odd army Artir had employed to attack Antia and the other cities of the realm. Manil had offered on many occasions to add a little physical persuasion, but Ramilo could not bring himself to do it. Despite the Prince’s recent behaviour, something niggled at Ramilo. Growing up, Artir had always been a kind, caring boy – continually volunteering to help dish out food in the poor quarter or offering aid to the needy, but then, ten years ago; he had changed.
Ramilo refused to believe that this alteration in personality was due to the natural maturing of a boy becoming a man; there must be more to it. Today was no different, Artir had not moved; the Royal attendants had been in and cleaned him as best they could. He was dressed in clean robes, but a trace of breakfast still decorated the side of his mouth. Ramilo knelt down, in front of the Prince and whispered, “Your Royal Highness, I know you’re in there. Please help me save your Father’s Kingdom.”
Nothing.
Ramilo was about to move when – for the briefest of moments, the Prince’s eyes seemed to focus on him; then he was gone. Shaking his head, Ramilo started rising when Manil growled, “Me tells yous, me’ll knock him backs into dis world. ‘E won’t sit there starin’ inta the distance when me gets to ‘im.”
Ramilo shook his head and replied, “He is still the Prince.”
Manil grinned and shrugged before declaring, “Not mees Prince.”
Muru, who was only a step behind Manil, placed his hand on the troll’s gigantic shoulder and said, “Come on mate, let’s go down and watch the Cavalry make arses of themselves.”
Rolling his eyes in disgust, Manil growled, “Dem already gots to be trained to death.” He glared at Ramilo and added, “We’s shoulda already gone to yours city and freeds it.”
Ramilo did not reply, he simply sent a withering look in return and continued to try getting a response from the Prince.
Whilst Ramilo had been busying himself inside the Palace, Avery had been preparing the Velumian Cavalry for war. It had taken two days for supplies to arrive and he was getting frustrated. Standing on the marbled stairs at the front of the Palace, he watched as his troops trained on the open drill-square in front of him. With furtive glances over his shoulder, he kept an eye on the front door – Ramilo had promised that if he could get no information from the Prince; today was the day they rode to battle.
As he stood fidgeting, uncomfortably, waiting for Ramilo, a courier rode up the high street - making straight for him. “Colonel Avery, I have the latest intelligence from Antia.”
Avery took the message pouch from the slimly built rider, tore it open and pulled out the thick wad of papers inside. Reading the summary on the front cover, he smiled slightly – the city was still standing; they were holding their own. Looking across to the young Lieutenant in charge of training the troops, he called, “They’re all yours Timothy; I must take these up to the Duke of Antia.” He then turned to an enormous Sergeant on the far side of the square and shouted, “Sergeant Richards, it’s time to form up the city watch – it won’t be long before security of the city is all yours.”
The fearsome soldier simply nodded and then turned smartly, before marching in the direction of the guardroom. Avery watched him go, casting an eye across his troops - all of whom were working incredibly hard - before turning to enter the Palace.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed to the upper level, quickly reaching the top flight. He stepped onto the plush carpet and headed along an ornately decorated corridor with weapons hung on the walls in place of paintings – a change that happened since Artir had assumed the Throne.
Reaching Artir’s room, he jinked through the door, being careful to step around Manil’s bulk, which seemed to make the room smaller, and halted smartly a few feet from the Prince. Ramilo saw him enter and rose to his feet as the Cavalry Colonel approached.
Avery held out the envelope, which the Duke of Antia took from him. However, before Ramilo had the chance to take out the report, Avery spurted, “The city still stands, but they are short on supplies – they need reinforcements and fast.”
Ramilo shook his head and passed back the report. He glared angrily at Artir and spat, “We’re getting nothing from him, so let’s get going.”
Hearing this Manil whooped with joy and danced what was the closest approximation of a jig a troll could ever perform, before crowing, “It be great getting’ outa here – me’s so bored.”
Ramilo chuckled quietly and marched out of the room; the others following close behind. They rushed down the stairs and out of the Palace, just in time to see the last of the Cavalry Troopers forming ranks. The young Lieutenant, being a bright lad, had already called them to order and had formed a snaking column, which faced the north gate, ready to ride out on Ramilo’s command.
Ramilo was about to ask for a horse, but remained silent when the Palace grooms brought across three horses – one for each of the Human members of the command cell. Ramilo thanked the man leading his horse across to him and then shot a look across at Raynor – the chief groom – and joked, “Can’t get rid of me quick enough can you Ray.”
The aging man smiled and called back, “It’s about time you were out earning your crust my Lord.”
At the same time, a young Lieutenant led a horse across to Muru and said, “Colonel Avery asked me to give you a horse.”
Muru stood up straight and clasped the horse’s jaw. He peered into the creature’s eyes and then stroked its nose. Glancing at the young, blonde Lieutenant, he said, “Thank you, but I prefer to use my own two legs.”
The Officer stared at Muru in disbelief, but nevertheless, led the horse back into the stables. Ramilo also declined the use of a horse. He knew that it would be far easier to ride, but he also knew that if the Dwarves were still waiting for him - the latest report, which was only yesterday, said that they were - to maintain an air of respectability, in their eyes, he would have to keep pace with them - all the way to Antia.
Avery rode towards the front of the column and looked across at Ramilo, who was now standing next to Muru, before calling, “Lead on my Lord, if we ride out of here and bump into the Dwarves without you first explaining that we’re on their side, we’ll be in for a hiding.”
Hearing this, Ramilo grinned, as did Manil, and then nodded, before marching to the front of the column with his companions at his side. As they reached the front, Lin-Te called to the remainder of the Royal guard, who had formed up behind the Cavalry, “Get up here. If you march behind the Cavalry you will struggle to keep their pace.”
The small company of Royal Guardsmen immediately ran to the front and settled themselves behind the Gnomes, who were in front of the Cavalry, but behind Ramilo, Manil and Muru. Lin-Te moved across to stand next to Muru and then nodded to Ramilo. Seeing that the column was ready, Ramilo called to the gate guards, “Open the gate then!”
A loud creaking sound emanated from the heavy wooden gate, as it moved slowly on its rollers, exposing the raging river outside. Once it was wide enough, Ramilo led the column out of the city
towards the Velumian Bridge, which spanned the River Vel.
Once they were across the other side, Ramilo set course for the woods in the south. He knew that the Dwarves had set up camp slightly further east than he was going, but his plan was to halt the column at the edge of The Great Forest and then make his way to the Dwarves by himself.
The column marched for a further ten minutes, before Ramilo called a halt. He moved back to Avery and explained his plan. Avery saw the sense in it and nodded his affirmation. Ramilo smiled up at Avery and patted the Colonel’s horse, before spinning around to head towards the forest. He was about to push into the thick foliage when a voice called out, “Hold it there Ramilo, we’re coming out.”
As Ramilo came to a halt, he spotted Omni and Obli pushing through a thick bush in front of him. Ramilo stared in disbelief, as a grinning Obli said, “Our scouts have been watching you since you left the city. You don’t think that we didn’t realise that Avery would be on our side.”
Ramilo’s raised eyebrow was his only outward sign of surprise, as he said, “Fall in then. The quicker we get to Antia, the quicker we give those silver-armoured turds a good kicking.”
Omni grinned as he led his troops to the head of the column. As the Dwarves, moved from the trees, Avery rode forward to meet them. He stopped a few yards away from them and waited for the smiling Omni to reach him. Omni halted next to him and reached up his hand. Avery took the proffered hand and said, “It’s been too long my old friend.”
Omni nodded and replied, “It has.” He glanced to the west and continued, “Let’s go and destroy those self-important buggers.”
To this, Avery merely nodded and then rode back into the column, as the Dwarves formed up in front of the Royal guard whilst Ramilo marched to the front to take up a position next to Omni. Glancing around to check everybody was ready, he called, “Let’s go then!” He then broke into a jog and headed east along a large trail, which led through the forest.
The column sped through the forest at an incredible pace; Ramilo had forgotten how fit the Dwarves were. His legs were beginning to feel as if he was running in water and his lungs were burning. He glanced back and saw that the Royal Guard were struggling as well. He held up his arm and after slowing to a walk, breathlessly called, “We’ll stop for a water break. We have ten minutes and then we’ll be off.”
Omni moved forward and said, “We’ll scout a little further on. Rest assured that we’ll return in time for the column to move off.”
As the Dwarves moved forward, Ramilo called back to the Royal Guard and the Cavalry, “Be ready to go as soon as the Dwarves get back.”
Muru and Manil sank into a sitting position and began to take deep drafts from their water skins, as Ramilo joined them. They sat in silence staring suspiciously at the dark shadows of the forest, strange noises and the occasional snapping of a twig keeping them on edge.
Suddenly, Ramilo noticed a dim reflection some way into the forest. He stood up slowly – keeping his eyes fixed on the thick foliage - and was about to say something to his troops, but noticed that the entire column was already on guard. They waited for what seemed an age; the tension was so high it was almost as if the entire world had held its breath in anticipation.
Suddenly, from deep in the forest a wave of silver-armoured warriors crashed through the bushes. Seeing them, Ramilo screamed, “Prepare for battle!”
The Power of Inheritance
Tal winced, as he watched - helpless to do anything. The silver-armoured cavalry smashed into the thin line of Lancers, but the Lieutenant kept a firm group on his troops and they hacked the first wave of enemy riders from their saddles. However, the next few ranks swept through the flimsy defensive line, snapping the Lancer’s weapons, as they crashed onwards.
Ben took no notice. His heart leapt into his throat when he spotted Maerk charging to meet the enemy. Ben’s son ducked under a heavy, swinging blade and deftly stabbed the armoured cavalryman under the arm. Another warrior rode towards the Sergeant, as Ben rushed to help him. Maerk simply skipped under the clumsy blow and grabbed the man’s overreaching arm, before pulling him from his saddle.
The heavily armoured soldier tumbled to the floor with a resounding thump. He tried in vain to rise, but Ben sped across to him and ran him through, before he could regain his feet. Maerk smiled at his father and wiped his brow.
He then spun on his heels and sliced an oncoming enemy soldier across the chest.
Tal had already joined Ben and Maerk, by the time Gwena rushed towards them and called, “When they withdraw let’s get everybody down; I have a plan.” She then leapt nimbly backwards and sent her sword in a complicated dance that sliced through an enemy warrior, before he could counter her attack.
As Gwena killed her opponent, Tal blocked a savage blow that sent him stumbling backwards. Ben saw Tal’s predicament and twisted at the hips, sending a vicious stabbing blow at the soldier attacking his friend.
The warrior tried to bring his weapon back to defend himself but overbalanced and fell from his saddle. Ben’s sword swung wildly as it missed the falling man, but he strained with all his might and reversed his swing, driving his blade through the man’s exposed neck. Ben glanced across at a small group of soldiers that the enemy cavalry had separated from the main body and grimaced in anguish when he spotted Zimina and Aleron, who were now isolated from the main body, fighting back to back.
As Ben watched helplessly, Aleron reached up and pulled a rider from his saddle. He sliced down with his blade as the man fell, cutting his throat. The man died before he hit the ground, but Aleron had not let go, so as the enemy soldier tumbled forward, he overbalanced, giving another silver-armoured warrior the chance to stab him in the back. Zimina screamed with sorrow and began lashing out indiscriminately - killing three of the enemy cavalrymen before they could react to her assault. Suddenly, she felt a heavy weight slam into her back. Excruciating pain flared in her shoulder, as a huge hound took a massive bite from her. She fell heavily to the floor and warm blood flowed down her back.
Zimina kicked her legs violently, spinning around to face the evil looking hound. Its hideous jowls were inches from her face as she pulled her dagger from her belt and stabbed the beast. Her blade slipped through its ribs and pierced its heart killing it immediately.
The weight of the creature lifted as it fell sideways, allowing Zimina to crawl towards Aleron, who was almost dead, but still strong enough to pull himself towards the muscular, dark skinned warrior. Zimina reached Aleron and held him in a loving embrace. She kissed him lightly on the lips, forcing a smile from his bloodstained lips.
Ben had to defend himself against a leaping hound, so he did not see the two enemy cavalrymen charge towards them. Aleron and Zimina were too weak to defend themselves, so they simply braced themselves for the impending attack. Smiling, they died in each other’s arms, a place that they had secretly yearned for the public to see them. Tal wiped an angry tear from his eye, as he watched the two warriors die in a way in which they wished that they had lived.
Slashing an enemy warrior across the thigh, Tal spun nimbly away from a rider’s swinging blade. He then glimpsed the young Lancer Lieutenant lead the few survivors of his squadron into the melee.
He groaned in despair, knowing full well that the Lancers were weak from the fight and were not up to defending against the much stronger enemy Cavalry. Lieutenant Bram blocked a powerful overhand blow from one of the silver-armoured warriors, but was so tired that the strength in it made him stagger - nearly falling - giving one of the huge hounds the chance to pounce.
It pulled him down and dragged him for a few feet before shaking him ferociously. When it was obvious that the young Lieutenant was dead, the beast spun around and leapt at the remaining Lancers, who were bravely fighting off a concerted attack from both hounds and Cavalry.
The Lancers were putting up a brave fight, taking many of the enemy with them, but they were fast tiring. One by one the exhausted men fell, until only
one remained. The man glanced around and on seeing that he was alone, roared an angry cry, before charging into the wall of silver armour in front of him.
He sliced the head from one of the evil looking hounds and then vaulted over its body. He then slashed upwards, taking a Cavalryman through the heart. As he charged, one of the enemy warriors stabbed him from behind, but this only spurred him on. He swung his sword left and right with violent intent, crimson blood flowing freely, as he killed two enemy warriors in quick succession.
For a moment, there was a standoff, but then two of the hideously formed hounds pounced at him. He fought bravely, but the weight of both beasts pulled him to the floor. Seeing his prey unable to move, one of the silver-armoured warriors bent over his horse and callously flicked his broad sword across the Lancer’s throat.
With anger spurring him on, Tal pressed forward; he knocked an enemy soldier from his mount, and stabbed a horrendous hound that was about to pounce at Gwena. Turning on the fallen enemy warrior, he drove his blade through the man’s chest.
Glancing around frantically, he realised why only a small handful of the enemy Cavalry had attacked. He could see that they were herding his troops, as if they were sheep, and were driving them towards the bottom of the other slope, on which the remainder of the enemy were standing.
Suddenly, a loud horn blast echoed around the dunes and the enemy Cavalry immediately sped back up the dune to reform. Tal glanced around his men and blanched at the destruction. Over half of his men were either dead or dying and those still alive were near exhaustion. He located Ben, who grinned at him through the blood that covered his face.
The Sect Commander then scanned the area and saw his son hobbling towards him. He waved, before calling, “Get them all down.” Tal peered at him with confusion more than evident, so he shrugged and explained, “Gwena wants us to get down.”
Maerk did not question Tal, he simply limped, as quickly as he could, from Corporal to Corporal, relaying Tal’s message. As he moved around the surviving troops, the enemy Cavalry gathered themselves to finish the gaggle of soldiers that were now in the gulley below them. As the last of the soldiers from Sarn lay down, a large enemy soldier pulled a small whistle from a pouch around his waist and blew on it.
Destruction of a God Page 1
