Pentas.
‘How-,’ began Belwynn, astonished to see the wizard here.
Soren shrugged, allowing himself a grim smile. ‘The Isharites failed to kill him. He found us on the Jalakh Steppe. Got us here.’
Pentas gently lowered Tycho to the floor.
‘Philon!’ the big knight called over, his lungs apparently unharmed, even if he carried a bad leg injury.
Philon came over, and they clasped hands.
‘I’m done,’ Tycho admitted. ‘Can’t walk or ride. Will you take my place? We’ve taken a battering but some of them can still fight. We need to take the bastards out while we still have the chance.’
Theron joined them, tired looking but uninjured. He assured Belwynn that Evander still lived. Leontios arrived soon after, his small band of knights somehow escaping their encounter with the Drobax horde relatively unharmed.
With screams coming from the direction of the River Pineos, the Knights were forced to agree that they had to deal with the Drobax to the north first. They couldn’t just allow a slaughter of Kalinthians to take place, nor leave an enemy force at their back.
Theron, Leontios and Philon led those Knights free of injuries to the river. The injured knights and the Madrians remained, casting anxious looks to the south where Siavash, Straton and the other leaders were presumably dealing with repercussions of the Drobax retreat.
It was difficult for Belwynn to bear. Injured men and women looked at her, mute pleas for help on their faces. Elana would have been busy healing them by now. But Belwynn didn’t have such powers. She could talk to them, instruct them to fight and kill, but couldn’t save their lives when they were dying. She was a poor replacement for Elana, and she wished the priestess was here.
Instead, she walked amongst them, praising their efforts, reassuring them that Madria was still with them. A small group were fussing over a body, and Belwynn saw that it was Bemus. Elana’s disciple had fallen amongst her flock, his body mutilated from half a dozen wounds.
‘On your feet, those who can,’ came the rich voice of Pentas the wizard, full of authority. ‘They are coming for us.’
He pointed ahead. Rows of infantry were coming into view, a slow, methodical approach compared to the Drobax. In between these units, and on the flanks, were mounted soldiers, the Knights of Kalinth loyal to Galenos.
Theron, Belwynn said, they are coming for us. Come back as soon as you can.
Will do, Belwynn, he replied. Try to hold them off.
Belwynn ordered the Madrians to form ranks. They did so without complaint, but they were heavily outnumbered, by fresh troops.
If Siavash attacked now it would be over in minutes. But his infantry moved slowly, and his cavalry went at the same pace.
Belwynn glanced behind her. She imagined she would see Theron and his Knights riding to the rescue, but they weren’t in sight.
‘Soren!’ Pentas shouted.
It looked like Galenos’s knights were done with sticking to the pace of the infantry. Perhaps the Grand Master only now realised just how vulnerable his enemies were, with the knights off the field. For a charge had been ordered. They left the infantry units behind, riding for Belwynn’s Madrians. Each carried a lance under an arm, which they would soon level and aim at the front rank. The flag of the Kalinthian Knights, detailing Stephen defeating the Dragon, came with them. Belwynn suspected that Galenos himself rode there, keen to take his revenge on his enemies.
The Madrians had to hold against them. If they turned and ran, it would be a massacre.
Pentas and Soren walked towards the approaching cavalry, past Belwynn and the Madrians, then stood waiting. Some of the knights looked confused, unsure whether they should target the two wizards or ignore them.
Then, both acting at the same time, they unleashed. Fiery bolts leapt from Pentas’s outstretched hands and from Onella’s Staff.
Bright flames burned across the intervening space and struck mounts and riders alike. Horses crashed to the ground, turned and sped away in fear, ignoring their rider’s commands. Soldiers fell from their mounts, pulled on reins in a panic, crashing into one another as they did so.
Pentas and Soren began to walk forwards now, sending more fiery arcs at individual riders foolish enough to stay too close.
Gyrmund then joined in, releasing the string of the Jalakh Bow, the thrumming sound echoing around. His arrows could travel farther than the wizard’s flames, targeting those knights who thought they had gained a safe distance. The Knights wore full armour, but the arrows more often than not found a way through anyway—puncturing chest mail, finding unprotected faces. If in doubt, he targeted the horses. Although armoured, there were bigger gaps in the beast’s defences, and Gyrmund’s accuracy with the bow allowed him to find them.
The charge was over almost before it had begun. The flag lay smouldering on the ground: maybe Galenos with it. Pentas and Soren had devastated the enemy with their power. And for the first time since the Drobax had appeared, Belwynn believed they would win the battle, because they now had two wizards with them, and the enemy had none.
With the outcome of the battle poised on a knife edge, the enemy continued their march. Shouts rang out, as they tried to speed up the march of the infantry. Belwynn understood that Straton’s best chance was to drive her Madrians from the field before Theron returned. Pentas and Soren still stood against them, but how much more did they have to expend after seeing off the knights?
The infantry came faster, save for the unit on the right, which began to fall behind.
Hold firm, Belwynn instructed the Madrians. The Knights will return soon.
The enemy drew closer and now Belwynn could see the front rank. Leading the soldiers was Siavash, still in the body of poor Prince Dorian. His men marched with him, fooled into thinking they fought to return their royal family to the throne.
I can see you, came Theron’s voice. We will be there soon.
Relief flooded Belwynn.
The enemy now came faster. Soren and Pentas unleashed their magic yet again. The soldiers either side of Siavash were caught in the flames. Clothes were set alight, as warriors desperately covered faces with arms, or rolled on the ground to put out the flames.
The fire didn’t stop Siavash, however. His clothes burned away, his skin melted, but the body of Prince Dorian kept on coming. An arrow whistled into his chest, but he still came on, pulling his spear back. It plunged into Pentas. The wizard grabbed the shaft, trying to stop Siavash from pushing it further into his body.
Soren raised Onella’s Staff, but Siavash reacted quickly. Pulling the spear from Pentas’s grasp, he cracked the blunt end of the weapon into Soren, once then twice, the second blow knocking him over.
Belwynn ran towards them, leaving the Madrians behind, desperate to stop Siavash. She watched as he turned back to Pentas, raising his spear to finish the wizard off.
Pentas shot an arm out, sending a blast of magic that sent Siavash flying into the air, landing in a heap several feet away.
Pentas’s head dropped to the ground.
Soren slowly pushed himself up with his staff.
Siavash got to his feet, Dorian’s body smouldering from the flames. But it seemed that nothing could kill him.
The Kalinthian soldiers had stopped. They now looked at their prince, clothes and skin burned away, but still standing nonetheless. Only now would they begin to ask themselves what manner of creature they served.
Belwynn still ran. To her left, she saw that Gyrmund and Moneva came too.
Gyrmund stopped, fitting another arrow to his bow. He fired true, a second missile slamming into Siavash. The creature took a couple of steps backwards from the impact, but otherwise the weapon didn’t harm it. If neither Soren or Gyrmund could kill the thing, what could do they do?
You must destroy it, Madria told Belwynn.
But how?
Belwynn and Moneva arrived together, Siavash studying them, a grin on his face.
He made a fe
int towards them before moving at astonishing speed towards Soren, whipping his spear in a long arc. It connected with Onella’s Staff, knocking it from Soren’s hands and sending it spinning away.
Belwynn knew what that meant for Soren—the loss of sight and movement. Did Siavash know, she wondered.
He cackled. ‘I knew we would meet again, Soren,’ said Siavash, though he sounded like Dorian. ‘We have unfinished business, you and I. So killing you would be a disappointment. Pentas, on the other hand,’ he continued, gesturing at the prone wizard, ‘took much longer to destroy than I would have liked.’
Moneva came for him then, swinging with her short swords, but she was unable to get close. Siavash sent a straight jab with the spear at her chest, before swinging low and taking away her legs. He looked at Belwynn, then, but dismissed her as a threat, before turning back to Moneva with a smile.
‘Another chance for revenge,’ he cooed at Moneva, ‘on the one who dared to kill Erkindrix. Diis will be pleased with today’s work.’
‘Moneva!’ Belwynn shouted at her. ‘Give me the dagger!’
Lightning fast, without hesitation, Moneva grabbed Toric’s Dagger from her belt and threw it to Belwynn.
Without time to doubt herself, Belwynn caught the weapon, grabbing the hilt in her right hand, and advanced on Siavash.
‘Now Belwynn!’ shouted Pentas.
He had risen to a sitting position and now tugged at Siavash’s spear with his magic. Siavash pulled back, loathe to lose his weapon.
Belwynn launched herself at him, raising her right hand high and bringing the blade down on top of his skull.
‘Die!’ she screamed, and as the words left her lips she felt a channelling sensation. The forces that had entered her upon Elana’s death now awoke, streaming from her body, down the length of the weapon, and into the head. Her arm jolted, and a bang, like an explosion, could be heard.
Then Dorian’s body suddenly went limp. It fell to the ground, and Toric’s Dagger came free as it did.
Siavash was gone.
Theron and his Knights arrived soon afterwards. They stopped short of engaging with the enemy. Those who had attacked with Siavash remained on the battlefield, apparently leaderless. Some had witnessed Dorian’s death; some had seen enough to question whether it had been Dorian at all—but many still saw Theron as the enemy, and the situation remained delicate. Over on the right flank, the second unit still kept its distance.
Belwynn, Soren, Gyrmund and Moneva gathered around Pentas. He was deathly pale but still conscious.
‘A shadow,’ he said, trying to explain what Siavash had done. ‘Diis must have separated Siavash’s shadow from his body, allowing him to occupy the bodies of those he killed. That’s how he did this.’
‘And he’s now dead?’ Moneva asked.
‘The shadow is destroyed. Siavash is unharmed. He and Diis must still be defeated.’
He coughed, desperately trying to find his breath. Soren gripped his hand. After a while Pentas managed to calm his breathing enough to talk again.
‘I am sorry about Elana. Mostly, of course, because if she were here I might be saved.’ He smiled wanly at this, though Belwynn struggled to see the humour in it. ‘Siavash succeeded in killing Madria’s two servants. He thought he had won.’ He turned to look at Belwynn, grimacing in pain. ‘Now he knows otherwise. He must know that you are Madria’s new champion, Belwynn.’
The others looked at her after that statement, questions in their eyes.
‘He will come to kill you,’ Pentas continued. ‘But you can kill him. You can kill Diis,’ he wheezed, struggling to speak. ‘As ever, it’s the weapons. You must find the remaining weapons before it’s too late.’
Belwynn nodded. ‘We will,’ she said. A promise to a dying man she had no idea how to make happen.
Nonetheless, Pentas seemed satisfied that she understood.
Events on the battlefield grabbed their attention. The second unit of enemy infantry, seemingly reluctant to move up to now, had begun to march towards them. Above the front line they held a white flag.
‘Go,’ said Soren to the others, still gripping Pentas’s hand. ‘I will stay with him.’
Theron was dismounting, as Belwynn, Gyrmund and Moneva made their way over to join him. The four of them walked the short distance to a location between the two armies. The second unit halted, and two men left the front rank, one of them the flag bearer.
‘Diodorus,’ Theron said in disgust, recognising the count who walked besides the flag. ‘The traitor has come to wriggle out of this mess.’
Diodorus signalled to the soldiers who had fought with Siavash, until two men detached themselves from their ranks and came to join the parley.
The two groups of four eyed each other warily, one of the soldiers staring fearfully at the Jalakh Bow that Gyrmund carried.
‘Dorian is dead?’ Diodorus asked.
‘Yes,’ Belwynn said. ‘Though it wasn’t Dorian.’
Diodorus nodded in his sad way. ‘I realised that much,’ he said.
‘I recognise you,’ Theron said to one of the other soldiers. ‘You are Proteus, a Knight of Kalinth. You fought for Galenos?’
‘Yes,’ the man said defiantly.
‘Does he live?’
‘He died, engulfed in the flames sent by your warlocks,’ Proteus replied bitterly.
Theron nodded, unmoved by the man’s hostility. ‘Well?’ he said, turning to Diodorus.
‘I am here to submit to you as victor. We will lay down our arms if you spare the men’s lives.’
‘We will do no such thing!’ objected Proteus. ‘We have the numbers still!’
Diodorus swivelled his large head to look at the knight. ‘If you try to fight on I will order my men into battle against you. It’s over.’
‘Treacherous swine!’ Proteus declared.
‘Just state your decision, Proteus,’ Theron interjected, face implacable.
Proteus looked from one to the other before giving up. ‘I have no choice, do I? I will order a surrender.’
Theron nodded. ‘I accept. Though don’t think you can escape this with your life, Diodorus,’ he warned the count. ‘The punishment for treachery must always be death.’
Diodorus nodded. ‘I know that,’ he said. ‘Though I would ask a favour. Dorian—or whoever he was-’
‘Siavash of Ishari,’ said Moneva.
Diodorus raised an eyebrow at that, and Proteus frowned, unable to comprehend the statement.
‘He took my two sons from me. Kept them as hostages to ensure I fought with them. They are back at the camp. He told Straton to—to kill them should I waver.’
His eyes went down to the ground, wrestling with his emotions, before he looked up again. ‘I would appreciate your help in finding them. I would like to know whether they live or not. They are young boys, innocent in all this.’
‘Very well,’ said Theron. ‘I will accompany you.’
They walked back to their soldiers.
It is over, Belwynn said to the Madrians. Rest now.
They returned to Soren.
‘He is gone,’ he said to them as they approached.
Pentas’s eyes were closed now. Without those red eyes he looked like a normal, unremarkable man. Of course, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
‘Where would we be now without him?’ Belwynn asked out loud.
‘Do you remember when we first met him, waiting for us on the road to Coldeberg?’ Gyrmund asked. ‘That was the first time he saved our lives.’
‘He got us out of Samir Durg,’ Moneva said quietly.
‘He had been holding back the Isharites for a long time before that,’ added Soren. ‘I don’t know how we will manage without him.’
No-one had an answer to that. Pentas had said that she must do it, but why had the burden suddenly fallen on her?
‘I’m going with Theron,’ she said, keen to escape the question.
Belwynn and Theron rode with Count D
iodorus to the enemy camp. Wagons full of supplies, soldiers’ tents, and the other accoutrements of war lay all around, though few soldiers remained.
‘Where did the Drobax go?’ Belwynn asked.
‘Back where they came from,’ Diodorus replied.
Belwynn remembered Siavash boasting that he had conquered the Krykker lands. She spared a thought for Rabigar, hoping he had somehow survived.
‘It was hastily done,’ Diodorus added. ‘The Drobax had marched all the way here. They were tired, leaderless. But there are many of them. I fear they will be back.’
Theron shrugged. ‘If the Krykkers truly are defeated, the Drobax will not only be sent here, but all over Dalriya. Nowhere is safe. That’s why we must stand against the Isharites.’
Belwynn put a hand on his arm. He sounded tired; empty. He had been arguing for the Kalinthians to stand up to Ishari for years. And he had ended up fighting his own people instead. She understood his despondency.
‘There,’ said Diodorus, pointing at a covered wagon. ‘My boys were kept inside.’
They trotted their mounts over, dismounting just before it. Belwynn felt an unpleasant ache in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to find two dead boys here.
They walked to the back of the wagon. A man leaned against it. It was Prince Straton.
‘When the Drobax ran past,’ said the prince, with no preamble, ‘I thought then we might lose after all.’ He shook his head wryly. ‘Seems like I’ll always lose to you, Theron.’
The prince looked at Diodorus’s expression.
‘Oh! Your sons!’ he said. ‘You know I would never have done anything to them, don’t you?’
Straton turned around, pulling aside the canvas. ‘Come out, boys!’ he said. ‘Your father’s come for you, just like I said.’
Two boys, neither as old as ten, came to the back of the wagon. Diodorus walked over, lifted them both out, one in each arm, and deposited them onto the ground. He knelt there, hugging them and saying nothing. Belwynn, Theron and Straton walked away a few paces, giving them some room.
The Jalakh Bow Page 28
