‘We’re going to find a spear?’ Stenk asked, his brow creasing in confusion.
How many of these soldiers really understood what they were doing, Rabigar wondered. Events had moved too fast to fully explain things.
He drew Bolivar’s Sword. ‘When Bolivar defeated the dread lord of Ishari at the Battle of Alta, he had six other champions with him.’
He turned to see that other Krykkers were looking at him, listening intently to what he said.
‘There was a Lipper, with a dagger. A Caladri medium, with a staff. A human, with a shield. A Jalakh archer. And there was a giant, who wielded a great spear. We need to find this spear here in Halvia, far to the west. When these weapons are assembled, we can use them to defeat the Isharites.’
‘How?’ pressed Stenk. ‘How will these weapons rid the Drobax from these lands? From our lands back in Dalriya?’
Rabigar felt all too aware of the eyes on him. They were hungry for answers—certainties—when there were none.
‘Remember,’ Rabigar answered, making sure his voice carried. ‘My friends stole into the very heart of Ishari, the fortress of Samir Durg. Who did they kill there?’
‘Erkindrix,’ someone offered.
‘Yes, the dread lord himself. And who knows what weapons they had with them? Not our sword, for no Krykker went with them.’
‘The dagger and the staff,’ said Stenk.
‘Correct. With just two of these weapons they entered the dread lord’s own lair and killed him. And at that very time the forces of the Emperor of Brasingia were defending Burkhard Castle, that great fortress that our ancestors built. When Erkindrix was slain, the horde of Drobax, the Haskans and the Isharites, all turned around and fled. So, imagine what will happen when we have all seven weapons together.’
Rabigar’s people nodded, satisfied. None of them was so foolish as to believe that they were saved. But they believed they had a fighting chance, and that was all a Krykker should ever ask for.
Wracken woke them while it was still dark. He wanted them to move out without being seen.
Bedrolls were packed, stakes collected, and breakfast taken on the march. But they weren’t free of the Drobax. When sunrise came they could be spotted: small, grey figures, coming in and out of sight. Rabigar saw one looking at them from the top of a hill. Later, someone pointed out a small group, walking through the trees to their right, before the woodland hid them from view again. The Drobax were following them, on each flank, but keeping their distance.
Sevald and the Vismarians now led the army, choosing which route to take through their lands. They avoided the deeply forested areas, in case the Drobax were waiting for them there. But Vismar was wild terrain: heavily wooded, no roads, and full of rocky outcrops, streams and other obstacles. Each time they had to slow down to cross a stream, or their vision was obscured by knoll and hummock, or they descended into a valley, there was a threat of ambush. Scouts had to be sent out, and the constant state of vigilance began to drain energy and fray tempers.
It happened when they were climbing out of a valley. Screams behind them signalled that the Drobax were finally attacking. Wracken’s Krykkers at the rear turned to face them. Meanwhile, streaming down the valley slopes on either side of their position, more Krykkers came.
‘Up!’ Sevald shouted. ‘We need to take the high ground.’
The Vismarians moved forward at pace, aiming to climb out of the depression. Jodivig, leading the Dalriyan Krykkers, followed the Vismarians. Rabigar went with them, slipping and sliding on the muddy path as he tried to get purchase. They rounded a corner where they stopped, running into each other. Ahead, the Vismarians had come up against a force of Drobax who had been waiting for them. Logs had been placed along the path to block their progress. Drobax hurled stones and rocks down on the Vismarians, who backed away from the trap.
They were surrounded on all sides. But what sent a chill down Rabigar’s spine were the voices. He saw them. These Drobax were taller and broader than any he had seen before. They were shouting out instructions to the rest of their kind.
‘Hold!’ some of them shouted, keeping the Drobax behind the logs where they held an advantage.
There was something so unnatural about seeing Drobax opening their mouths and speaking that Rabigar stood rooted to the spot, unable to react.
Meanwhile, the Vismarians turned and retreated, Sevald leading his warriors back down the path. Rabigar could see Gunnhild at the back, her giant frame a target for Drobax rocks, battering them away with her shield.
Jodivig ordered the Dalriyan Krykkers to move back down again, to make room for the descending Vismarians.
The Drobax on the flanks now reached them. Rabigar grabbed his shield from his back, drew Bolivar’s Sword and met them. He slashed at one, too quick for it defend with its club, his blade crunching into its shoulder and sending it sprawling to the ground. A second he smashed into with his shield, shoving it backwards, then thrusting his sword forward so that it slid into the chest cavity of the creature. Yanking it out, he saw that a group of Krykkers had come with him.
‘Pull back!’ came a voice above them.
Rabigar looked up to see one of the larger, new breed of Drobax some distance up the slope, shouting out commands. It looked straight at him, and its sharp face made a vicious grin. It knew the Drobax had the advantage so long as they kept Rabigar’s force surrounded. All it had to do was contain and wait for reinforcements.
Rabigar turned to see that Sevald had arrived and was talking with Jodivig. The Krykker chieftain’s eyes were wide, close to panic. Rabigar joined them.
‘Rabigar,’ said Sevald. ‘They’re too entrenched up there. We need to break out the way we came in.’
Rabigar looked down to where the Binideqs were engaged with the Drobax who had come at them from behind. More Drobax were descending the sides of the valley.
‘Alright,’ Rabigar said.
It seemed the only option, but it would cost lives. And once they moved, the Drobax at the head of the valley would leave their enclosure and come at them from behind, squeezing the door shut in their trap.
‘Rabigar!’ came a shout.
It was Ignac. Together with a group of his Caladri he was trying to get to Rabigar, but the path was too congested.
‘We can protect your backs while you break out!’
‘Agreed!’ Rabigar shouted back.
He held Bolivar’s Sword aloft, trying to get the attention of those around him, before pointing it back down the valley, to his target. Without waiting any longer, he moved, Krykkers and Vismarians following him down the path.
Rabigar led his force off the path and up the side of the valley on his left. Here, they could present their shields, held in the left hand, to the Drobax descending to meet them. The first Drobax swung down at him using all its strength. He braced himself, taking the blow that rattled up and down his arm, before swinging out with his sword, chopping away the legs of the creature. It came to earth with a crash and as it sprawled there Rabigar was free to pick his spot, pushing the tip of his blade under the chin and into its head.
He kept moving, circling around the rows of Binideq Krykkers who stood on the path, before coming at the Drobax on their flank. Two of them moved out of position to meet him and he charged them, flinging all his weight behind his shield at the first, knocking it to the ground and barely staying on his feet. He whirled around, sword and shield in front of him in the hopes they would take the expected attack from the second Drobax. The strike came, a short spear glancing off his shield and striking him on the chest, leaving nothing more than a scratch on his tough, armour-like skin.
Jodivig, following in his wake, smashed a battle axe into the back of the creature’s neck, completely severing the head which sailed into the air, eyes still staring out in a look of surprise.
More Krykkers came behind them, short weapons for close work at the ready, and Rabigar led them into the Drobax. The battle mist came over him then, the un
thinking part of his brain taking over, reacting to threats by raising his shield arm, lusting for blood with his sword arm. Bolivar’s Sword hummed like a death machine, dripping red with Drobax blood.
The stink of battle rose as the body count grew, the ground treacherous with piss and shit and gore. The Drobax had brought the numbers, but the Krykkers were better armed and better trained. Finally, the Drobax gave ground under the onslaught.
The Krykkers punched through, retracing their steps down into the valley, aiming to come back out the other side. But although the Drobax had fallen back, they had not retreated. Their leaders, the large ones who spoke, ordered them to harry, as they marched along the path that led through the valley.
Rabigar stayed at the front, leading the army forwards. He began to ascend back up to the other side. The battle fury was beginning to leave him now and he felt aches and pains. His legs felt heavy, his lungs burned. Behind him his comrades were struggling with exhaustion, some walking wounded, others supporting those too injured to walk by themselves. He looked back across to the other side of the valley and saw half a dozen small figures—the Caladri mediums—holding back a force of Drobax ready to descend the valley towards them.
Up they marched, desperate to escape the trap that the Drobax had laid for them. Rabigar allowed his mind to briefly consider this. Until now the Drobax had been a mindless enemy, reliant on orders and firm control from their Ishari masters. But this new breed of Drobax seemed to change that. They could communicate, give orders, prepare an ambush and ensure that it was carried out. All of which made the threat from the Drobax even more grave.
The creatures continued to hound their movement, while staying clear of Krykker steel. But eventually Rabigar crested the top of the valley. The front ranks dragged themselves onto the flat terrain above, just as the Drobax at the other end of the valley were released and threw themselves down, howling for blood.
Rabigar looked about him, wondering where the most defensible location in these parts would be. He found Jodivig and Wracken. The Binideq leader had taken a blow to the side of his head, his hair matted with blood. Sevald joined them too. Below, Rabigar could see Gunnhild bringing up the rear of their forces as the Drobax closed in on three sides, her shield deflecting blows, her giant hammer forcing the creatures to keep their distance or else risk being flattened.
‘Can we get to a fort or defensive structure?’ Rabigar asked Sevald.
Sevald raised an eyebrow. ‘There’s too many of them,’ he said simply. ‘We could struggle to a hill or some such, but all that would do is prolong the slaughter.’
‘We need to fight our way back to the Drang,’ Wracken added. ‘That’s our only hope of survival.’ He spat a mix of saliva and blood onto the ground. ‘And that’s a faint hope.’
Rabigar shook his head. ‘I need to get the Spear.’
‘Are you mad?’ Wracken demanded angrily. ‘Look where that nonsense has got us!’
Rabigar pointed down at the horde of Drobax coming towards them. ‘Look what will happen if we don’t. You think the Drang is going to keep them out forever? This is a taste of what awaits.’
Ignac appeared. ‘We can transport a small number away a short distance. I don’t know the area, but perhaps past the valley,’ he said, pointing vaguely to the north-west, beyond the Drobax enclosure.
Sevald shrugged. ‘It may work, if there are no Drobax waiting for you there. The terrain is gentle enough.’
‘Then that’s what we do,’ said Rabigar. ‘Myself and Gunnhild are the two who need to go. If Ignac can send more, whoever else that wants to and could be of use.’
‘I’ll die with my men,’ stated Wracken flatly.
Sevald and Jodivig echoed his sentiments.
‘Could you come with us?’ Rabigar asked Ignac. ‘A medium may be useful to us.’
Ignac nodded. ‘Coming with you would make the teleportation easier. That leaves three of our enchanters left who can stay with the army.’
Rabigar saw Stenk waiting a few feet away. He wanted his young friend to live. But were his odds better with the army, retreating to the Drang, or heading west through the treacherous lands of Halvia with him? It was impossible to know.
‘Do I have permission to take Stenk if he will come?’ Rabigar asked Jodivig.
‘Of course. Good luck.’
They all shook hands there and then, for there was no more time to waste. As soon as Gunnhild arrived, she was guided over to the waiting group. Without argument, she took Rabigar’s hand in one massive palm and Stenk’s in the other. The Caladri mediums made their magic and Rabigar felt himself moving, just like he had done before when Ignac had found Rabigar and his friends wandering lost in the forests of the Grand Caladri. Most of his senses were taken from him, leaving the sensation of movement. It stopped almost as soon as it had begun, leaving a sick feeling in his stomach.
He opened his eye and focused on his surroundings.
They stood in a meadow, a few feet from a stream in one direction and a wood of birch in the other. It would have been possible to believe that they were miles away from the bloody confrontation they had just been a part of, if it wasn’t for the sound of howling Drobax carried to them on the air.
Rabigar looked at his companions: young Stenk, giant Gunnhild and the Caladri magic user, Ignac. This was all that was left of the army that had intended to march to the Nasvarl. They had fatally underestimated the strength of the Drobax.
‘It was as if they were waiting for us right from the beginning,’ he said.
‘It was the same with my family,’ said Gunnhild. ‘They have leaders now.’
‘Will the others manage to get back home?’ Stenk asked.
‘No problem,’ said Rabigar quickly.
Maybe Stenk believed him. He could see from the expressions of the other two that they didn’t.
‘Thanks for bringing me,’ Stenk said quietly.
‘Glad you’re here,’ said Gunnhild. ‘You can keep an eye on that one,’ she said, pointing at Rabigar. ‘I swear, all he does is stare at me tits!’
Stenk’s eyes bulged as his gaze was drawn, irresistibly, to the chest area of the giant Vismarian.
Gunnhild slapped her thigh and gave a rambunctious, uninhibited laugh, loud enough to alert every Drobax in the region to their precise location.
The Gift
XX
FARRED LEFT ESSENBERG behind, taking the Great Road to the north.
It wasn’t long before he began to pass groups of people coming the other way. These weren’t merchants laden with supplies for the capital. These were family groups, taking with them all the possessions they could carry.
When he asked why, he got the same answer. An army of Drobax was heading for the Empire.
The people were mainly from Rotelegen; some from Grienna. They had learned from what had happened last year. Rotelegen wasn’t safe. The imperial army wouldn’t defend it. The best option was to abandon the duchy, find refuge in Essenberg, and hope that the Drobax would leave again. Hope that Burkhard Castle could hold against the enemy a second time.
Farred rode on, apprehensive about what he would find when he reached the fortress.
He never made it.
Riders appeared on the road ahead. Scouts of the imperial army.
One of them recognised Farred and stopped to speak with him. Walter, Marshall of the Empire and Duke of Barissia, was returning to Essenberg with urgent news.
Farred waited. Soon, Walter’s small force of riders appeared. Walter was at the front and next to him was Gustav, Archmage of the Empire. The duke hailed Farred with a smile and asked him to ride with them. He didn’t have time to stop.
‘I wasn’t expecting to find you on this road, Farred,’ Walter said. ‘Last I heard, from Prince Edgar, you were sailing north with the Caladri fleet.’
Farred briefly explained to the duke, and to the archmage who listened in, that the invasion of the Krykker lands had led him to warn the human realms of the threa
t. Walter and Gustav shared a dark look at the mention of the dragon.
‘How are we supposed to defend against that?’ demanded Walter wearily.
Gustav shook his head, seemingly bereft of answers. He looked at Farred. They had developed a close relationship of sorts in Burkhard Castle. Walter had persuaded Farred to support Gustav when he made his transformations into a hawk. It had been an experience Farred had never really got used to, and didn’t talk about.
‘The Isharite sorcerers have been more active recently. Defending their borders, preventing me from crossing into Persala. The appearance of their army wasn’t a total surprise, therefore—though I only saw it once it had crossed into Trevenza. In most respects it is the same as the force that came at us last year. Thousands upon thousands of Drobax. Isharites, Haskans and other forces in support.’
‘Jeremias and Adalheid are evacuating Rotelegen,’ Walter added. ‘We defend Burkhard, just like last time.’ He gave Farred a grave look. ‘You and I knew they would return.’
Farred nodded. This was all well and good, but he had a concern he couldn’t shake off. He resolved to tell them both.
‘You may have a problem,’ he began. ‘Baldwin and Inge. It began last summer, at Burkhard. Maybe I should have told you then. But when I was in Essenberg, they were in bed together. Baldwin didn’t seem himself—’
He stopped, not knowing what else to say.
Walter and Gustav shared another look.
‘We know,’ said Walter quietly, clearly finding the topic awkward. ‘My brother has a lot of pressure. Everyone, inside and outside the Empire, looks to him to deal with the Isharite threat. But we all learned something last year. He can’t deal with it. We can’t. That’s a difficult position to be in. Deep down, he knew this day would come again. So, this affair, it has been a diversion for him. A distraction for his mind until the time comes to fight again. And, after all, emperors and kings with mistresses isn’t exactly uncommon.’
The Jalakh Bow Page 24
