by P R Glazier
Chapter 41. The Final Conflict
The battle raged. The construct armies of Startmektoken on both sides fought each other with breath taking fury. They were a shocking wall of aggression, impenetrable. R’Thy’Uln could not see beyond the Startmektoken, bar the occasional glimpse, for much smoke and fume hid the true nature of what was happening on the battlefield. But occasional glimpses revealed the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran army that stood in wait on one side, as did the army of Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned upon the other. Weapons crashed against each other, projectiles ricocheted from thick armour, very occasionally one of the constructs fell, showers of sparks exploded into the surrounding air and crackling blue arcane energy shorted itself back into the ground from whence it had come. The noise was deafening, the clamour of war. Yet for all the clashing of steel and other din associated with battle, one thing was missing. There were no screams of the dying, no grunts of exertion, no shouts of abuse or cries of hatred, or cheers of victory. To the T’Iea that watched in horror, this seemed an unworldly silence in the midst of this battle.
It was impossible to tell one side’s army from the other, only the Startmektoken themselves knew whom they served and whom they fought. Thor didn’t know who it was that had programmed the constructs that fought for them, only that whoever it was remained within the great flying machine that had dropped the Startmektoken to the ground and set them upon their course of destruction, the machine had then flown off, back into the skies from which it had come. It all happened so suddenly, without warning, from a deep brooding silence to complete and utter mayhem. Immediately the sky darkened as each army fired whatever ranged weapons they carried, projectiles of unknown kind had dotted the blue skies, they erupted onto the ground and onto the opposing sides, many had fallen under the barrage. But suddenly they had increased their speed and the two armies had crashed together in complete mayhem and the bitter butchery of close quartered hand-to-hand fighting had started. But that was several hours or so ago now, they still fought, tirelessly it seemed for neither side was weakening or gaining any ground on their opponents.
Thor thought how they did not seem to attack anything other than their enemy counterparts and this was the reason that Thor had no idea which Startmektoken fought for which side. He was pleased however that they just fought each other. If one side or the other won then may be the time to think quickly about how they may be destroyed, he whispered a prayer that the machines on his side would prevail. Thor looked around him at the faces of the T’Iea army that surrounded him, a bright pensive madness in their eyes, he had to look away from those faces, he somehow feared them more than the Startmektoken.
R’Thy’Uln went to stand by Orln and Neth’Gore. Once more the three of them were together, it felt good. Behind him his comrades stood ready to fight and around them the strangest scene of all met his eyes. There in amongst the undergrowth a vast army of goblin men stood ready to move forward, ready to give their lives for him. He had no idea so many inhabited the region; he had never seen such a gathering. There at their head stood Niepre, the goblin man surveyed the battle raging in the distance, waiting like them he supposed for the outcome. But that was not all for in amongst the goblin men there also stood men from the east. Wild men able to change their form and fight in another way should they wish to do so. Many wolves and wild cats stood there also, Thor knew these were the men of the east in their other form, those that had a second form, a shade as they called it, that could fight effectively against the enemy if necessary. But the most unexpected sight had met his eyes. Something he never expected the strangest of sights, something from out of his wildest of dreams. For there in several places goblin men rode upon wolves and large cats, they held tufts of hair in one hand and a stone weapon in the other. He felt somehow out of his depth; felt there was so much more here than first met the eye. He felt proud and at the same time a little saddened that such as these would see fit to fight alongside him, allies to his T’Iea army. But the gratitude will have to wait, the deal he struck, that was something to worry about later, now he had to contend with the outcome of this current battle. His attention turned once more to the battlefield below, the two armies of Startmektoken still fought, but there was no way of knowing if either side was to be victorious.
R’Thy’Uln thought it was a strange feeling glimpsing the enemy within arrow striking distance yet not being able to engage with them. It was as if they waited in the wings, waited on the side-line of a murderous battle until it was their turn to fight and perhaps to die. It was a horrible feeling, being reliant upon the success of an army that was beyond their control, a tireless army that had a pre-programmed intent and would not deviate from that plan until it was either wholly successful or it had utterly failed.
Neth’Gore resisted the temptation, the small persuasive voice within his head that told him to summon heat from the very air and ground around him, concentrated it and work it into a ball of fire and then fling this at the nearest T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran soldiers across the field of battle, beyond the warring Startmektoken soldiers. He knew deep down that the fireballs would hit and they would deal death and pain. Neth’Gore felt a well of hatred bulge upwards inside him. He knew what it was, the dark presence in the Rift was struggling to overcome him, it recognised him for what he was, a T’Iea with a strong knowledge and ability with the arcane, it wanted him, wanted his strength and intellect, his head hurt from the exertions of keeping it out. He knew he could not give in to it, for to do so would render him so dangerous, he would not be able to distinguish between friend and foe alike. All would be a target for his hatred and his death dealing, he would lose his mind, like the T’Iea armies that faced each other down there. But he knew the Rift presence didn’t care, it just wanted war, it didn’t care who fought, who died, it didn’t care who won and who lost, it just wanted the battle, to relive its past once more. He fought an internal struggle that many others had lost. He found concentrating on other things helped, for he also kept part of his mind tuned in for the tell-tale presence of any enemy battle mage, he was sure that he would come up against a number, but so far none had materialised. This worried him, for he began to doubt his training, began to doubt his ability, yet it was an ability that had never let him down in the past. Perhaps the Rift was also denying him this ability, perhaps it was shielding the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran mages that must be somewhere upon the field of battle. He knew it was playing some kind of perverse game, amusing itself, some twisted intellect of ancient design was enjoying itself, finding sport in this conflict. It had told him as much, told him how he would enjoy such sport. Neth’Gore shook his head, moved to his right, instinctively Orln and R’Thy’Uln moved with him. Their training taking over as they moved to protect one another from any offensive move that may be presented to them.
The battle raged for an unmeasured length of time. Such destructive forces were hell bent on destroying each other. But the two armies of Startmektoken warriors were still well matched; in fact they were identically matched for they had come from the same place. They were in fact part of the same army, created by men in the distant past. Yet here they battled each other. So they fought until the last of them fell in opposition.
Suddenly the fighting stopped, as quickly as it had started. All that remained standing there with weapons shouldered or replaced were several Startmektoken soldiers, all presumably from one side for they did not fight each other. Which side they represented no one could say, but without an enemy to fight they just stood still put away their weapons and waited. Their orders had been carried out, they had accomplished what their masters had wished and commanded them to do. So now they waited, for new orders perhaps. Or even to be recovered by the Leviathan machines that would have disgorged them onto the battlefield in ages past.
Neth’Gore frowned, he would not allow them to wait, he could not risk even a few of these terrible warriors being revived from their inactivity and perhaps turned upon the T’Iea armies that now fa
ced each other across the smoking battle field. He stood and walked forward. R’Thy’Uln stood also, his eyes held a question, what was Neth’Gore doing? He would break their cover. His friend continued on down the hillside towards where the remaining Startmektoken stood immobile amongst the burnt and flattened heather.
Both R’Thy’Uln and Orln walked after him and then as one his army of T’Iea and the goblins and easterners also stood and started to make their way down the hillside after Neth’Gore.
Below them the two armies of T’Iea those of the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran and those of Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned stood stunned in the sudden silence. They eyed the several remaining Startmektoken with suspicion; they waited to see what the remaining metal soldiers would do. But then orders where shouted and the deeply conditioned and disciplined minds of the soldiers took over. The two T’Iea armies were marching towards each other, they would engage in battle within minutes.
Neth’Gore pulled at the arcane energies that surrounded him as he had so many times before. But something else felt the bending of the gravitational field. Within seconds he felt the Rift entity attempt to enter his consciousness, hatred filled his mind. He faltered, but he was strong, he had excelled his masters in the halls of learning, he was a natural talent and he was very experienced in battle. He placed a barrier between his consciousness and the attempted invasion. But he wanted the power that the Rift entity tried to seduce him with, he needed it and he let it through.
The Rift entity faltered, it had been hasty. It had felt the pull on the arcane around its field of effect. Immediately it had sought that node and found a T’Iea mage. All of the other T’Iea mages throughout the ages it had overcome easily, but this one was different, this one was strong, this one had a will of iron. The Rift entity made a decision, it would not waste time trying to subdue this T’Iea, it was a shame for such a servant would make a fine addition to its collection. But it had other things to consider, there was a battle to consider, a war to win and it knew how to do that. No it would feed the T’Iea mage with the power he desired. Feed him more than enough, it would be his downfall, greed would get the better of him in the end.
Neth’Gore felt the power within him, impossible amounts, far greater than anything he had felt before. He knew there was a risk, a great risk, but he needed more power than he could muster normally. He raised his hands. Felt the well of arcane energy travel through him from the earth below, he waited until he could hardly stand, hardly bare to have any more energy channelling through his being, he let it go.
A hurricane of hot air blasted Thor’s face and stung his eyes as he marched forward, the soldiers in front of him faltered in their advance. Thor looked between the shoulders and heads of the soldiers in front of him, he gasped. There six hundred metres in front of him down in the hollow where the Startmektoken had been fighting he saw the remaining monsters that had just been standing there suddenly engulfed in what looked like liquid flame, they seemed to burn and melt, parts dropped off them and seared the ground itself where they fell. One by one the metal soldiers melted into the ground, the heat was almost unbearable even at this distance.
The army of the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran and those of the army of Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned stopped dead in their tracks. The fire and heat before them meant they could not make forward progress. Eventually the flames died down, where each of the silent Startmektoken soldiers once stood there was a molten mass, a rounded pile of slowly solidifying metal that seemed to have been welded to the very bed rock of the ground beneath their feet. But the way was soon clear the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran could be seen marching forward again, so Thor and the army of Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned marched forward once more to engage them. Thor raised his sword, his stomach felt a sickness as he prepared to rain blow after blow down upon his enemy. But then something else happened; out of the corner of his eye he saw what appeared to be another army. This army was rushing towards them from the right flank; already the foremost soldiers were driving a wedge between the two armies of T’Iea. This was happening at such speed and ferocity that both the T’Iea armies stopped. But after a couple of seconds the field commanders ordered them forward once more and with a cry and with screams the foremost ranks engaged. The battle commenced.
R’Thy’Uln ran down the slope towards where the two T’Iea armies approached each other, he was screaming orders at the top of his voice, “Keep them apart! Keep them apart! Keep them separated.” He looked anxiously to his left and to his right. His rag tag army were there, many of the faster runners, especially the eastern men in animal form and some with goblin riders were already way ahead of him, wolves, big cats, bears and wild boars drove a wedge between the two T’Iea armies. Hawks and eagles flew in from above, many fell as he watched. Tears fell from R’Thy’Uln’s face as he witnessed many die under the blades of the T’Iea. Then in equal horror he watched as a group of goblin men ran up to a soldier in dark armour and seemed to engulf him by climbing up his legs and torso they hung onto his arms stopping him from raising his sword, teeth bit into any unprotected flesh, armour was ripped from the soldier and flung to the ground. The soldier’s helmet, the straps chewed through, was torn from his head and flung to the ground. The soldier fell to his knees under the combined weight of the goblins. Then to R’Thy’Uln’s horror the goblin man that had reached the soldier’s head drew back his arm and plunged a long stone dagger into the soldiers eye. The goblin man withdrew his weapon; blood gushed forth as the soldier fell forward. Even before the dead body had fallen to the ground the goblin group had abandoned it and ran towards a second soldier. The horrific process was repeated. R’Thy’Uln looked away. But then he was himself amongst the battling sides. His sword was already bloody, he didn’t even remember striking out with it, but now he was fighting for his life and had to trust that what he had started would all work out in the end.
Neth’Gore became aware that something had struck him, he felt a presence a probing in his being, his mind was under attack, at last he thought with some relief, another mage was here. Yet this intrusion was subtler than an all-out assault upon his being. He was taken aback; he did not think that any of the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran mages would be so skilled, so restrained. His experiences with the Rift entity was that it possessed no such restraint, it wanted action, it thrived on extremes of madness, it wouldn’t care if they were all destroyed in seconds as long as it got what it desired. This did not feel like the Rift, or anything to do with it. So far the battle had not produced any enemy mages to potentially counter his arcane energies. He had been surprised for all his training had been focussed primarily on battle tactics between mages, he fully expected that he would be forced to battle like with like, be engaged in what the T’Iea called D’Ere’Gru’D’ethne’E, ‘the dance of the minds’, a duel between battle mages. He directed a lot of the hate that remained within him towards this intrusion upon his mind, ready to crush it. But to his surprise the intrusion recoiled at his hate, it stepped back, he rushed forward and grasped the intrusion in his mind, this was a human and he sort the important centres of the brain, sort to close it down, he found the centre for speaking and shut it off, he pushed forward, there he found the nerve controls for the heart, he reached for them.
But then something frail about it made him withdraw the hate he projected, inadvertently he lowered his guard a little and he heard his name, a female voice said his name into his mind. The voice pleaded with him to stop, implored him to listen. His heart leapt, he knew that voice although he had not heard it for many long years of men. Long ago that voice had meant so much to him, he suddenly realised it still did. He had fallen in love with that young human female, he had not meant to, but he felt so sorry for her, sorry that she was shunned by her own people as a dangerous outcast. They had abused her, cut her, marked her as outcast. He had taken the young wisp of a girl, taught her, made it his goal to rescue her.
In sudden realisation he let his love slip past, the pres
ence warmed, it caressed his mind, many old memories flooded back, warmth and intense intimacy, the strongest of desires and needs, the most satisfying of fulfilment. He shook his head. Was this a trick? Was this the Rift presence once more trying more subtle tactics? But he knew the fate of that voice, had felt saddened at the news, greatly saddened, for the one in his thoughts was greatly skilled, it had been an honour to teach and nurture that skill. At last he projected one phrase in response, a question, “Deanola? My student? My love?”
The presence rushed forwards once more, realising it was recognised, great adoration spread before it, “yes, T’Neth’Gore, it is I. Forgive me my unprompted intrusion, but I have important tidings that may change the course of the battle that rages about you.”
Suddenly Orln was aware that something was strange, he looked to his left, soldiers fought in close, hand to hand, blood flowed from the many already wounded, a red mist seemed to hang in the air. He was surprised to see that Neth’Gore just stood there amongst the mayhem his eyes closed. Orln, lowered his bow, his next arrow already notched and ran to the side of his friend, afraid that he had been hit and stood there in pain, perhaps even mortally wounded. A T’Iea swordsman approached Neth’Gore, raising a heavy looking broadsword. The soldier looked surprised as he was flung backwards a couple of metres, an arrow embedded deeply in his chest. Orln ran, notching another arrow, he could see that Neth’Gore’s face still held the expression of deep concentration he associated with the battle mages using the arcane energies. Orln shouted as another soldier approached Neth’Gore he had a sword raised ready to strike. Then Orln recognised the second soldier it was Thor. Orln shouted, Thor turned, nodded towards Orln, suddenly his eyes shone forth with a renewed light and Thor made his way defensively to the side of his comrades. By the time Orln reached them Thor was pulling his blade from the rib cage of a T’Iea soldier.
Thor shouted above the din of battle, “what is it? What ails Neth’Gore?”
Orln’s response was to shake his head and shrug as he peered into the face of his friend. Neth’Gore just stared into the distance his eyes seemingly vacant.
From his left Thor caught a glimpse of another body of soldiers approaching at a fast pace. Some were T’Iea, some goblin men and in between men of the east. He looked and was shocked to see R’Thy’Uln his sword drawn a war cry upon his lips and the light of battle shone in those eyes. Around him were his soldiers, the ones Thor had met in R’Thy’Uln’s encampment. The Goblin men looked like terrible daemons running as they did on all fours wielding various weapons, clubs, swords, slingshots, some even had short bows and arrows. Some rode on the back of beasts. The eastern men also ran there, many in their shade form. A fusillade of arrows and stones went high up and over Thor’s head to land amongst the renegade army of Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned. Many fell dead or injured. But it got their attention as they all turned towards this new until now unforeseen threat. They formed up in a defensive line as the T’Iea and goblin army passed by Thor and his comrades and slammed into the waiting T’Iea army. The shouts and screams shook Thor to his soul; he shivered uncontrollably.
‘So this was it then’, thought Thor, ‘we finally come to it, the shame of the T’Iea. He felt great sorrow that T’Iea fought T’Iea upon this battlefield so far from home. He felt the useless, blatant futility of it. He hung his head in sorrow and dropped to his knees.
